“Then that changes things and would mean she wasn’t a crime of opportunity,” Brad said.
“We may have one or two contacts in the Underground. We’ll see what we can get from them,” said AJ, who’d been an enforcer for a drug lord, albeit undercover FBI. If contacts had been made, he’d have made them when he went through that dark time of his life.
“Well, until we find out, you’re all restricted to the house,” AJ directed. “No more shopping trips.”
He wanted to argue out of principle, but AJ had it right. They needed to stay together and out of sight. Now, if only he could convince Moira that was best, without scaring her to death about the potential threat.
Chapter Twenty-Three
The soothing sound of the storm outside didn’t interrupt Moira’s mind. She slid her brush across the celestial blue on her pallet for her drybrush stroke, but her mind wandered. Even though she’d painted mostly works of Ireland to keep the memories alive, Moira enjoyed living in America.
With a heavy sigh, she pulled back, and, with a critical eye, she inspected what she’d created so far. She hadn’t thought about what she’d been painting since her brush and muse helped bring it together. Another painting of the streets of Dublin. She’d only been to this narrow street, with bars on both sides and friends congregating on the street blocked off for traffic, a few times. Her recollections sometimes surprised her.
Taking the time to thoroughly clean her new brushes, she jumped when the front door slammed. Even with Danny’s teammates outside, fear ripped through her, and her body shook as small droplets of water dripped from the brush in her hand. They’d been on house arrest for three weeks now, and neither Danny nor the guards had slammed the door. She could only assume it was someone else—they’d been found. Thunder boomed at that moment, driving the terror home.
Her chest heaved and she couldn’t catch her breath. Not an attack, not now. With her heart pounding, her gaze raced around the room for a hiding place. She decided on the far corner, yet her legs wouldn’t move. Those wobbly legs. Why couldn’t she move? Her life might depend on it. She closed her eyes as tears spilled down her cheeks and hoped Danny returned before whoever broke in, either killed her or took her away. Danny, where are you?
“Moira, you here?” Danny’s voice traveled up the stairs to her third-floor haven and unfroze her mind and body.
As her legs buckled, she fell to the floor with a combination of relief and anger at him for almost giving her a heart attack. Or as she would say to her brother “putting the heart crossways in her.” She hoped her voice didn’t sound as frightened as she’d been. “Yes, just cleaning up.”
“Can I come up and see?”
She squeaked. In no way did she want him to see her like this. Like a scared little girl. “Nay, it’s a work in progress.” He understood that no one saw her ealaín until it was complete.
Slipping inside her bedroom, she freshened up and waited until her body felt normal again.
The walk down the stairs with her hand gliding on the banister elicited a laugh from Danny. She narrowed her eyes at him but wasn’t upset. “What’s so funny?”
Sucking in a breath as he tried to calm his laughing enough to speak, he finally won the battle. “You. You looked like royalty gliding down the stairs. Did they teach you that at that prissy boarding school?”
They actually had taught them a great deal of comportment. Ignoring him and his “prissy” comment, she walked past him and peered into the refrigerator and groaned. She shut the door and turned to Danny; his eyebrows rose as if to laugh again. Ignoring the expression and his damp hair needing a comb, she asked, “Are you hungry?”
He gazed at her for a moment with a tight jaw, and she worried what she’d done. Not moving, his serious gaze bothered her. As she looked closer, it wasn’t serious—it was heated.
“Did you know you’ve got a perfect ass?” he asked
Her body tingled in pleasure, but she had no idea how to respond. Instead, she changed the subject. “Who’s open this late for takeaway?”
A quirk at the corner of his lips told her he saw through her. After a moment—too long of one—he checked his watch. “For delivery, we have Chinese or pizza.”
She wrinkled her nose. “I’d like Chinese. How about you?”
With a shrug, he agreed, “Chinese works. There’s a—”
Waving her hand to cut him off, she turned to the counter. “—menu in the drawer.”
After ordering enough food for the crew and leftovers galore, they stood, and his gaze continued to bore into her. Walking to the refrigerator, she asked, “What’d you like to drink?”
“Guinness. You’ve ruined me for American beers.” He moved to the shelf where he kept the alcohol.
Sitting, she squirmed a bit. They’d not had this stilted a silence since she’d first arrived. They’d also not spent so much time together since before, he’d worked days or weeks at a time, leaving her alone. Her nerves were getting the better of her when they shouldn’t.
Another boom of thunder shook his house before the power blinked and remained off. They remained still, her hoping the lights would return. She wasn’t afraid of the dark but preferred to avoid it unless sleeping.
A light appeared in Danny’s hand. Moving his cell phone around, he found her. “Candles,” he stated firmly. “Do you have your phone?”
She kept it in her pocket or purse, always, in case her brother called. She pulled it from a pocket.
Through the glow of her screen, she caught his nod before she turned on her flashlight app. Touching her arm, he led her to a cabinet she’d never explored.
Her mouth dropped. Was he expecting a zombie apocalypse? Accepting the handful of items, concern climbed
