Fatal Thrill Page 12

  “It’s a date.” He kissed her forehead, then took her hand and led her back inside.

  Shelby and Colton had disappeared and Jon drew her upstairs to the bedroom and closed the door. Backing her up against it, he slid one hand under her hair to the nape of her neck and leaned in for a full-blown kiss.

  The solid feel of him was so welcome Jaya wrapped her arms around his neck and let him part her lips with his tongue. Everything in her wanted him, just like it had the first moment she’d laid eyes on him.

  He broke the kiss, his hot gaze locking on hers. “This is a bad idea.”

  She shifted restlessly, knowing he was right. Her legs grazed against his. “Is it?”

  A low growl came from his throat. “You should be angry at me for not having found your brother yet.”

  “Anger doesn’t usually get me anywhere. I’d rather not waste precious time on it. Seducing you, however, now that’s worth a lot.”

  Jaya felt herself rising, Jon lifting her up and making her laugh. He carried her to the nearest surface—a chair—and sat with her, her legs draping over his, her suddenly needy self pressing into his hard erection.

  He kissed her neck, lips light and teasing. His hand roamed under her shirt, finding a tender breast and making her gasp. She caught his earlobe between her teeth and gave a return tug.

  A soft laugh. “You’re a dangerous woman.”

  He was the dangerous one in this relationship. Jaya shucked her shirt, baring her breasts to him. “I don’t want there to be secrets between us anymore, okay?”

  The glittering edge returned to his eyes as he gazed at her skin, mounding over the edge of her bra cups. “Secrets are a burden, but there are things I’m not allowed to share about my job, J. We talked about this.”

  “I’m not talking about your job.” She popped open the button on his jeans and slipped her hand inside. He growled a low curse. “I’m talking about between us. Our personal shit. Families, emotions, all of it.”

  He was hard and velvety in her hands, and his face took on an intensity she loved. “I’ll try.”

  “Try?” She gave him a hard squeeze. “You’ll do better than that, won’t you?”

  “I have…problems.”

  “I know about the depression and PTSD.” She caught his lips and kissed him lightly. “I’m not running from that or you, so stop worrying. You promised to help me with my problems, so let me make the same promise. I’m here for you, whatever you need.”

  His hands went to her bra clasp and next thing she knew, the garment hit the floor. He sat for a moment, pushing her breasts up with his big hands and massaging them. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

  She felt beautiful in his arms. “I want you. Now.”

  Hefting her off of his lap, he made her turn loose of him and stood her on her feet. Skilled hands worked her jeans over her hips and they pooled on the floor around her ankles. Gently, he helped her step out of them and then his fingers teased her thigh, then moved higher, tracing the edge of her panties.

  One finger slipped under the hem, him watching her. “These rooms are probably bugged.”

  She glanced around, wondering if there were cameras too. Stepping forward, she shoved his pants down and once again took him in her hand. “Then I guess Kieran’s going to get a show.”

  Jon’s warm hand cupped her through her panties. The other went to the base of her spine, his finger tickling along the satin there. He nuzzled her neck. “You make me whole, Jaya. Make me feel like I have purpose in this world again. Whatever you want, you can have it.”

  Licking the pulse on the side of his neck, she pressed into his hands and whispered, “I want you inside me, Jon Wolfe.”

  Her panties hit the floor this time and he lifted her again, carrying her back to the chair. As she resumed her place on his lap, one of his fingers slipped inside her.

  Jaya moaned as he caressed her and she grabbed his shoulders, digging her nails into his skin and giving herself better leverage to move against him.

  But it wasn’t enough.

  He kissed her lips, cheeks, and temples, stroking her over and over. She didn’t want him to quit, the fire building higher and higher inside, but with every stroke she needed more.

  Pulling back, she caught his erection and adjusted her seat, pushing him inside. He held her hips, guiding her, his breath hissing as he hit home.

  She rode him, the feeling so damn good. Hands, lips…touching, caressing, sucking, making her mindless.

  And then his thrusts grew deeper, her body opening more fully to take him in. He filled her, her body, her heart, her soul.

  I am, too, lucky.

  Because this was the most amazing man she’d ever met. Women would line up to be his lover, and here she was, enjoying his body, having his baby.

  Her heart raced, her breasts bounced as they moved harder, faster. Tightening and spiraling, up, up, up.

  Her release hit like a hurricane, her lips parting on a scream. He thrust again, harder than before, taking her higher, and everything inside her exploded.

  Another two strokes and Jon’s release followed, his lips parting in another soft curse. For long moments, they both breathed heavily, his hands still clasping her hips, her arms around his neck. Pleasure shuddered through her in waves. She couldn’t seem to catch her breath. To believe this was her life.

  9

  While Jaya slept, Jon regrouped, changing his clothes before he rounded up Colton. Kieran was nowhere to be found. Shelby was back at her makeshift workstation, trying to keep the Garda off their backs, and get in good with an Interpol agent on his way who was tasked with closing out his Mathew Fitzpatrick file.

  “Finally, I get to have a pint of beer in Ireland,” Colton mused as they headed back to town.

  Jon checked his texts, saw the one he was waiting for. “Miles and Charlotte are meeting us outside the pub. They landed an hour ago and drove from the municipal airport.”

  “Charlotte too, huh?” Colton shifted. “Maybe she can translate the heavy brogue everybody has around her. I feel like I need subtitles half the time.”

  “She’s British, dude, not Irish.”

  “She’s still more familiar with what they’re saying in this part of the world than a poor boy from Oklahoma.”

  Jon couldn’t argue. He liked the sound of the Irish intonations, and the landscape was growing on him. Maybe he and Jaya could pick an Irish name for the baby.

  The ride to town was interrupted by a bunch of sheep in the roadway, blocking both sides. A farmer and his son emerged from a peat field, rounding them up and getting them off the road after a ten-minute delay.

  “How far is it to the O’Sullivan castle?” Colton asked as they finally entered town. “After we check out the pub, we should swing by that place too. Maybe Sean’s holed up there.”

  “Beatrice sent me the coordinates. It’s a good forty miles from here.”

  “At least it actually exists.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Colton shifted and pulled into a parking spot. “Sean makes up a lot of shit. I didn’t want to say anything in front of Jaya, but I wondered if there was a legitimate castle belonging to his family or not.”

  Jon spotted Miles and Charlotte exiting from a VW Gulf a block down from the pub. “Apparently, there is, so that much is true. Not sure it will help us find Finn, but you’re right. It’s on my list to check out if we have time.”

  Colton and Jon met up with Miles and Charlotte halfway between the B&B and the pub. Charlotte hugged and did that funky European air kiss thing to both of them, while Miles traded handshakes and back slaps.

  “Glad you two could make it,” Jon said. Night had fallen and a few streetlights were the only illumination on the sidewalks. The curtains at the Red Hen were drawn, the pubs windows were either frosted or so dirty they barely let the interior lights shine through.

  “You’re in my part of the world now,” Charlotte said, her British accent clear and crisp. Her b
reath created white puffs in the air.

  Miles studied the front of the pub and the latest customers entering through the front door. “Who are we looking for here?”

  Jon filled them in on Ferris/Fitzpatrick, and how he’d been spotted hanging out at this pub and speaking to Sean O’Sullivan. “The B&B’s owners are Paddy and Lorna Doyle. We spoke to Lorna, but Paddy was inside this bar before 11 am this morning. He went out the back door and into the B&B, also through the back, like he didn’t want to be seen. He might have shared a round or two with Sean or Fitzpatrick in the past week, and there may be others who remember either or both men.”

  Charlotte nodded, the yellow knit cap on her head bobbing. “The regulars will remember ’em, even if they get quite a few strangers through here thanks to the bed and breakfast. But they won’t be much for sharing anything with outsiders, so maybe you ought to let me do the talking.”

  Colton screwed up his nose. “I thought you were British. Aren’t you an outsider too?”

  Her accent changed with the blink of an eye. “Today, I be an Irish lass, and a foine one at that, laddie.”

  The men laughed.

  “Do you have pictures of Sean and Finn?” Jon asked.

  She dug out her phone and used her teeth to remove one glove before flipping through a couple of screens. “Yes, but I could use one o’ Fitzgerald if you have it. The Doyles too, especially Paddy, if he’s a patron of the pub.”

  Jon sent her the photo Shelby had found through the FBI of Fitzgerald. Less blood and Fitz was still breathing in this one. Then he sent Charlotte the photo he’d snapped of Paddy Doyle earlier in the day. “I don’t have a picture of Lorna, but she should be in the house. Anything else?”

  Charlotte shook her head. “You two stay out here. Miles, come with me.”

  She marched toward the pub’s front entrance and Miles shrugged at Jon and Colton’s arguments. The two disappeared inside, leaving Jon and Colton on the sidewalk.

  “I call bullshit,” Colton said. “I need a beer in the worst way.”

  “I second that.”

  Colton’s surprised face swung his direction. “You do?”

  “My life has turned completely upside down and I don’t have a single flippin’ clue where Jaya’s brother is yet. The kid is running out of time, and I promised her I’d find him. Instead, I’m standing out here, freezing my balls off while Charlotte goes in and asks questions, and Miles helps himself to a pint.”

  Colton huffed in agreement and crossed his arms over his chest. “Life is fucking unfair.”

  Jon’s phone buzzed. Beatrice. “Yo, tell me you have a lead on that text or the video or Sir Ref’s Inquisition and Expedition Services.”

  Beatrice’s voice sounded tired and it wasn’t even quitting time back in DC. “Rory was able to get the phone records for Sean and Finn.”

  “And?” Give me some good news.

  “There was a number that Sean called multiple times while in Ireland, and also a dozen times before that. The calls stopped two days ago. We believe the number is Mathew Fitzpatrick’s cell phone and we’ve put in a request for Interpol to work with us to verify that. Once they do, we can eliminate that number. But that’s the only one he called in that area. And no other international calls were made on that phone.”

  That wasn’t much to go on when it came to finding Finn. Jon’s current boots-on-the-ground approach was still going to net more. But not if he ran into jurisdiction issues. “Are Interpol and the Garda going to give us a bunch of grief or tie our hands on this investigation?”

  “I’m working on that. Zeb has a friend inside Interpol. She’s trying to get us access to the full jacket on Sean and help us navigate the delicacies involved in working the case in conjunction with the officials.”

  “Somehow I have the feeling that’s a lot of words to say I’m screwed.”

  “You’re not screwed. I’m handling it from this end, but you may have another visitor.”

  “Who?”

  “I believe it would be beneficial for me to send Zeb over to handle Ms. MacIntosh in person. They have a…congenial relationship.”

  Jon didn’t like the images that conjured, so he cleared his mental cache and went back to the problem.

  “As soon as we can trace Sean’s phone contacts and see who else he was calling, I’ll let you know.”

  “Thanks. We’re heading to the O’Sullivan castle next.”

  A slap of a door shutting behind him made him turn. Mrs. Doyle was on the porch, waving a hand at him. “You boys lost?”

  “Gotta go,” Jon said to Beatrice. “Thanks for paying O’Sullivan’s tab at the B&B and getting the other information for us. I’ll be touch.”

  They disconnected as Mrs. Doyle came down the steps, wrapping her sweater tighter around her. Colton shot Jon an uncomfortable look and gave the woman a tight smile. He pointed at the pub. “No ma’am, we’re not lost. Just considering our options for the evening.”

  “I’m sure no good will come from that.” Doyle smiled. “Did you find Blackrock and Mr. Ferris?”

  No sense going down that road since he couldn’t share what—or who—they’d discovered there. The town gossip would know soon enough anyway. Best to change the subject. “Did you receive reimbursement from my friend for O’Sullivan’s rooms?”

  Her smile brightened. “I did, and I thank ye. That’s why I came out. I saw you standing here and thought I should express my appreciation. You two ever need anything, you just ask, ye hear?”

  At that moment, Miles and Charlotte emerged from the pub, Charlotte grinning and Miles looking like he didn’t get to finish his pint. “A fine evening to ye!” Charlotte stuck her hand out to Lorna, who returned the greeting and looked at Jon.

  “A friend of yours?”

  “Unfortunately, yes,” Colton grumbled.

  Charlotte smacked him on the arm. “I’m Carylln, and who might you be?”

  “Lorna Doyle. I run the inn. You sound like you’ve been in these parts before, Carylln.”

  “I have family up north.” The two women went on for a moment, Charlotte throwing out names and places and sounding like a good Irish lass, indeed. “Say, you must know everyone around here, I bet.”

  Lorna lifted her chin. “I know most, yes I do.”

  “Do you know anything about the Gypsies that travel east of town? Someone inside mentioned they sell tinctures. I feel a cold coming on and my mother always used an elderberry tincture to keep us kids healthy. Hated it, we did, but she would keep a potion of elderberry and honey in the fridge and said a swig a day keeps colds and flu away. I sure would like to find the Gypsies and buy a bit.”

  A frown creased the woman’s features, already darkened by the shadows. “Well, I don’t care for that lot, but I do admit to using their valerian tincture to help me sleep on occasion. I have anxiety, ye know, trying to run this place.”

  Charlotte made sympathetic sounds while Jon kept an eye on the comings and goings around the pub and Colton and Miles shuffled their feet.

  “Like I told yer friend here,” Lorna said, pointing at Jon, “the tinkers used to use Blackrock castle on and off for a landing place. That and a few other abandoned castles in the area. They don’t keep any kind of schedule, mind ya, but there’s a tea leaf reader—Elisabeth, her name is, but they call her Kelli. She comes to town once a week and brings her putsi bags and other products to sell to the tourists. Scams them she does, but I reckon she’ll be here on the morrow. You’ll see her by the rock wall down by the water at the end of the square.”

  “Wonderful.” Charlotte practically bounced on the balls of her feet. “Thank you so much for your help.”

  They walked away, Lorna returning to the B&B. Miles and Charlotte accompanied Jon and Colton to the truck.

  Under her breath, Charlotte swore and called Mrs. Doyle a foul name. Charlotte, herself, was part Gypsy, and she’d led Miles on quite an adventure in Romania a while back. “Tinkers. How dare she use their products but h
ave no respect for them.”

  “Nice acting job,” Colton smirked. “What the hell is a putsi bag? Sounds gross.”

  “It’s a charm bag. Gypsies fill them with herbs, trinkets, and treasures for good luck, health, protection, you name it. They can be carried, placed under your pillow, hung from your rearview mirror or a window.”

  Colton scratched his head. “How does a bag of smelly herbs give you good luck?”

  “It’s no different than four-leaf clovers, horseshoes, or burying teeth in graveyards for luck.”

  Colton’s eyes widened. “Burying what in graveyards?”

  “What did you find out inside?” Jon asked, ready to talk about anything other than graveyards. Colton would bring up ghosts next. “Anything about Fitzpatrick or Sean?”

  “That’s why I asked your friend there about the Gypsies,” Charlotte said. She stomped her booted feet in a warming gesture. “While we were inside, two men approached a guy who looked like Paddy Doyle.”

  Miles rubbed her arms, helping her generate some heat. “Charlotte thinks they’re Gypsies. Doyle handed them a very fat envelope and one of them checked the contents. Looked like a lot of money.”

  “May not have a thing to do with Sean O’Sullivan or Finn.” Charlotte brought out her phone and fiddled with it. Showed them a picture. “But I think we should follow those two and see where they go. If Paddy found out Sean was searching for the cross and he knew anything about it and wanted the bounty for himself, he might have paid those men to do the dirty work. They might know where Sean is, or at the very least Finn.”

  Colton scratched his jaw. “You can tell they’re Gypsies just by looking at them?”

  Charlotte rolled her eyes. “I heard them talking after Paddy gave them the money. Gypsies use a very specific language, and although I couldn’t hear everything they said, one of them mentioned something about taking care of a big, hairy problem. I swear he said O’Sullivan, but it was loud in there and I could be wrong since their slang is different than the one I’m used to. Anyway, it’s very unlikely they’re still with their Gypsy families. Gypsies don’t go outside their own circles much and they’re not big on murder. Hexes, yes, murder no. These two are no doubt outcasts. If I can talk to this Kelli tomorrow, I can probably find out for sure.”