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Carys
I lead the way into the house. Each step is quicksand, tugging on my feet, sucking me deeper. Rescuing Finn was more instinct than intellect. For seventeen years I ignored anything to do with him. Then a whiff of the Donaghey brothers, thanks to Kim’s scheming, and I’ve been hauled into their vortex of death and danger.
Not that the international arms business is sunshine and roses. I’ve grown up with those dangers, and my father is well-established. Everything in this world makes sense to me. Finn’s brand of rage, sex, and violence has always turned me on, but I never understood why.
I stride through the house, my flats making me silent on the wood floor. Usually I make a more of an entrance. Finn and Jay are far enough behind that I should be able to warn Eric before the two men come face to face.
Sitting on the couch, suit jacket open, feet propped on the table and a drink in his hand, is Eric. Like this, he makes my breath catch. He’s the opposite of Finn in his build and coloring, but his aura of power draws me to him.
“You didn’t have to come all this way,” I tell him.
A sly smile spreads across his lips. “You’re hiding something from me.”
“We haven’t been engaged for years. I’m also your boss. So I suppose I can literally hide anything, and you can’t do shit about it.”
His grin fades, and he turns in the couch to inspect me. “Don’t be a bitch. We’re missing a massive amount of product in Russia, and you’re more interested in a skiing vacation than tracking a thief? You can’t tell me that’s normal behavior for you.”
“That’s the thing about being the boss. I assigned people to gather the information for me while I’m here. I don’t have to do everything myself. The word delegation was invented for that.”
Eric raises his cranberry vodka soda and swishes it around his glass. He saunters over to me with the ease of a man who knows how this will go.
“I can delegate with the best of them. There are people who require a more personal touch.” He grazes his fingers over my collarbone as he pushes my hair behind my shoulders.
Normally his familiarity would cause a shiver to race down my spine. But I am so achingly aware of Finn’s approach, Eric’s caress barely registers.
His rich brown eyes search me, trying to figure out what’s different. He might be an asshole and a cheat, but he can read people. He’s known me for so long in so many ways, my lack of reaction must jar him. “What are you doing here in Switzerland?”
“Me.” Finn’s deep timber responds from behind me.
Eric darts his gaze over my head, and confusion mars his face. “And you would be?”
I half-turn, willing Finn to use an alias, any alias. Eric’s never been a threat to me outside the business arena, but I’m not sure what he’ll do about me harboring a known fugitive. One who almost murdered an FBI agent and, if he could do it again, would simply have better aim.
“Finn Donaghey.”
Eric’s eyes widen and he glances at me before straightening to his full height. It’s impressive. He’s six-foot-four to Finn’s six-foot stature. But Finn’s fighting motto has always been, The bigger they are, the harder they fall. Size never intimidated him. Eric’s lean, ropy, a runner. Finn’s bulkier, a brawler. Most people wouldn’t want to come across him in a dark alley.
Unbidden, the image of him pressing me up against a cold brick wall, pushing his hands up my skirt, the ache to be with him, to have him inside me, is more than I can bear. It was the last time we were together before I was stabbed. Heat rises to my cheeks, and I turn from Eric, hoping he’s too focused on his rival to notice my sudden arousal.
“Is he the reason the fucking FBI has been sniffing around the office in Chicago?” Eric’s drink sloshes over the edges as he gestures toward Finn.
Not his first alcoholic beverage since arriving.
“Yes.” I swallow, willing myself to stay in the moment and stop getting lost in the past.
Finn’s not capable of feeling for me what I once believed I felt for him. He doesn’t do commitment. Most men don’t. Least of all Eric.
“I’m helping him get sorted,” I say, “and then I’ll be back to the office. I have people figuring out what happened at the warehouse.”
“Not just what happened, Carys. We need to comprehend why and who was involved and whether it’s likely to happen again. If we were a smaller organization, that theft would have ruined us. As it is, we don’t have a clue where those arms are headed. Our proverbial fingerprints coat them.”
Lashing out is tempting, but when Eric’s been into the alcohol, he’s too easily riled. Given that Finn has already reminded me about his quick temper, I keep my anger in check.
“I’m aware of the questions that need answered,” I say. “You being here instead of in Chicago or Russia isn’t helpful for any of them.”
Finn moves around the two of us and crosses to the couch Eric vacated. Easing into the soft white leather, he takes us in with his flinty gaze.
“Don’t mind me,” Finn says. “Pretend I’m not here. Carry on.” He waves his hand and then rests them over, last I checked, an impressive set of abs.
“Are you going to get arrested?” Eric focuses on me, his jaw tight. “For the guy who almost got you killed years ago?” He brushes his fingers over the spot on my chest where the faint remnants of a scar still lie underneath my shirt.
Finn raises his eyebrows. “You’re fucking lucky I’m recovering from bullet wounds, or you’d be having your ass handed to you right now. That’s your one asshole comment. I’d prefer to let my stitches heal. But if you poke this bear, you’re going to get the claws and my teeth.”
“He’s not kidding.” I give Eric a pointed stare.
His face contorts with disgust and disbelief. “A bear metaphor? That’s the best you’ve got?” He tucks a stray strand of my hair behind my ear.
His constant points of contact are annoying me. He’s never this affectionate anymore.
Tension vibrates off Finn. Is it the familiarity Eric is showing with me, or my ex-fiancé’s disrespect of him?
“You have the shittiest taste in men,” Eric says. “He probably doesn’t understand metaphors.”
Finn holds up two fingers. “Two credits shy of getting a business and literary studies degree. I could give you a better metaphor, but you seemed like a simple guy. I didn’t want to overwhelm you with my intellect.” He smirks and laces his fingers together across his middle again.
“I’m simple? How the fuck, in this day and age, do you stay two credits shy of getting a degree?”
“Well,” he says, drawing out the word. “You start by murdering a bunch of people in Ireland and then you keep killing people.” Finn shrugs. “Seems I was cut out for a path in life which didn’t require a degree.”
My heart races, and my knees are unsteady. I can’t decide if I’ll vomit in disgust or faint with longing. Terrible taste in men is an understatement because everything he said makes me want to haul him upstairs and reacquaint my body with his.
Eric pales at the implications of Finn’s words, and then he wheels on me.
“We need to have a discussion in private. I’m extremely concerned about what you’re getting yourself into here.”
With a sigh, I purse my lips together. “I’ll show him where he’s staying, and we can chat.”
“Jay can do that.” Eric nods toward Jay, who is by the main entrance.
“No, he cannot. He’s guarding the door from anyone who might want to burst in here. I’ll show him to his room and come back.”
“I’m not tired yet.” Finn settles deeper into the couch.
There’s no way I am pleading with him to leave the room. “Fine,” I grit out. “Eric and I will go spend time in my room, alone, to get privacy then.”
Finn holds up a hand. “I can show myself to my room. It’s fine. Where is it?”
As he rises, it’s clear he’s still stiff and sore. Seeing him weak softens me toward him and his stubbornness.
“Up the stairs, fourth door on the left. The last one.”
“Where’s your room?” He angles his head toward Eric.
Eric meets his curious stare. “Not your concern, I don’t think.”
“I’ll see you in the morning, Carys.” His gaze trails over me, my skin prickling with desire.
“Right,” I agree. He will not go to bed. He’ll retreat to the top of the stairs and find somewhere to eavesdrop. The upper level of the house has a balcony which overlooks the living area, and voices drift up. Eric is so intent on berating me, he hasn’t even considered this idea.
After Finn disappears from the room, Eric takes the next hour to try to ‘talk sense into me.’ I counter every argument with two responses—he’s no longer my fiancée or I’m his boss. He continues to suck back the vodka and becomes less interested in turning me off Finn and more interested in turning me onto him.
We’ve fallen into a post-breakup routine of sleeping together whenever we’re in any city but Chicago. Part of me wonders whether he flew here just to get laid. If I wasn’t so desperate to propel Finn out of my head, I wouldn’t even entertain sleeping with him tonight. He’s being an obnoxious dick who doesn’t recognize his place in my life or the organization.
When he heads upstairs before me, I don’t tell him he can’t go to my room. When I get there, I’ll find him naked, waiting. Any other time, his presence would be a bit thrilling. Sex was never the problem between us. Rather, the sex he was having with other people behind my back. Tonight he’s a means to an end. I need a release before my sexual frustration rages out of control.
After I’ve put the glasses in the dishwasher, I wander up the stairs. On the landing just outside my door is Finn.
“I assumed you’d be asleep by now.” I keep my voice low. Eric doesn’t need to realize he was eavesdropping.
“Did you?” Finn pushes his hands into his pockets and shrugs. “You knew I’d be listening.”
“Hear anything of interest?”
“Eric’s a dick.”
“What can I say? I have a thing for dicks.”
He smirks and glances away from me. “You’ve had a warehouse theft?”
“Yes. But we’ll get it under control. Eric is overreacting.”
He isn’t, but I don’t need Finn trying to ride to the rescue when he has to sort out his own life.
Finn scans me with his ice-blue eyes. “He’s in your room?”
“Probably.” My heart hammers.
Whether Eric’s in my room shouldn’t matter to him.
Finn grips the back of his neck with one hand, while his other disappears deeper into his jean’s pocket.
“You don’t have to sleep with him to prove a point to me.”
“Is that what I’m doing?”
“I still feel it, Carys. The connection between us. It’s humming right now. You can’t tell me you don’t feel it, too.”
Goosebumps rise on my arms, and I rub them. His sixth sense is accurate. When Finn and I are alone in a room together, something lives and breathes in our space. Back when this whole thing first started, the sensation freaked me out. Then I wondered if the tension in the air might be love. Now I recognize it as good old-fashioned lust. I can take care of that myself.
“If it makes tonight easier for you,” I say, “I would have had sex with him even if you weren’t here.” Backing away from him, I place my hand on my bedroom door. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
He shakes his head but doesn’t meet my gaze. “You’re better than this, Carys.”
With pursed lips, I examine him for a moment. “Maybe. But this is all I want.”
Then I turn the handle and walk into my room.