My phone buzzes:Progress report. Now.
I stare at Byrne's message, thinking about violated apartments and missing handlers. About protection that feels like possession. About attraction to a man who could destroy everything.
Forty-eight hours to produce results or face career termination.
But standing in my empty apartment, skin still tingling from Eamon's proximity, I wonder if my heart might surrender first.
The game just became infinitely more dangerous.
And I'm no longer certain who's hunting whom.
CHAPTER
FIVE
I watchSorcha wipe down the last table at Finnegan's, her movements efficient despite the late hour. Three days since the warehouse incident, and I can't shake the feeling we're being watched.
My phone buzzes. Connor at the docks.
"Moran's people asking questions about the redhead," he says. "Asking by name."
My blood turns cold. "What kind of questions?"
"Where she lives. When she works alone. If she's got protection."
"Double security at the pub. I'm handling this personally."
I hang up and cross the empty bar. Sorcha looks up as I approach, reading the tension in my face.
"We need to talk," I say. "Now."
She sets down her rag. "What's wrong?"
"Moran knows about you. You're not safe here anymore."
Her face pales but she nods. Smart woman doesn't argue when death comes calling.
Twenty minutes later, I follow her beat-up Honda to her apartment building. The neighborhood makes my skin crawl—too many blind spots, too many ways for enemies to approach unseen.
Inside her cramped apartment, I check every window while she stands by the door, arms crossed.
"Your security is nonexistent," I say, testing the flimsy deadbolt. "These locks won't stop a determined child, much less Moran's crew."
"It's what I can afford."
I turn to face her. "Pack a bag. You're staying somewhere safe tonight."
"Where?"
"With me."
The words hang between us. Her eyes widen as the implications sink in.
"That's not necessary?—"
"It is." I move closer, backing her against the door. "Moran doesn't make idle threats. He targets what matters to send a message."
"I don't matter to you." Her voice wavers.
