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I don’t want to think about her being married. The darkness inside me yanks at its tether. My breath tightens in my chest. If she’s married, it won’t end well for the bastard. It’s obvious he hasn’t been taking care of her needs.
I grip tighter and pick up speed.
Oh, yes. Faster. Harder.
I throw back my head as my release breaks free and ropes of cream warm my hand. Doubling forward, I ride out the violent wave and curse myself for using Laine as a prop for getting here.
I exhale and rinse my hand off.
There are too many daggers bouncing around in my head, piercing my gray matter, to think about that right now.
After turning off the water, I wrap my hips with a towel and my lips around the bottle. All I need to do is down more whiskey and black the fuck out.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Laine
The morning sun spills through the ornate window, casting beams of light that make the room feel less ominous than the shadows of last night. The gardens outside are tranquil, a stark contrast to the chaos that seems to encircle this place after dark.
Did I really see men loading bodies into a van?
The thought sends a shiver down my spine.
Do I really want to know? No. I don’t. As a criminal defense attorney, there are things I’m better off not knowing.
Plausible deniability is real.
Flipping back my covers, I stretch and take twenty minutes in the washroom to shower and get ready for what is certain to be another stressful day.
Cora has the ensuite bathroom stocked with anything a guest could want and I appreciate it more than she knows. I only saw her interact with Tag for a moment last night, but there is a light of genuine affection between them.
How long has she been on staff here? Did she watch over him and his brothers as they grew up? Tag mentioned losing his father but didn’t mention his mother at all. Was that intentional?
I’m pulled from my thoughts by a knock at the door. “Come in.”
A beautiful redhead pokes her head inside. “Good morning. I’m Siobhan. We met last night. Actually, I don’t think Tag introduced us.” Her voice is smooth, with a lilting accent that matches the rolling green hills outside.
She steps into my room, carrying my duffle bag, and I instantly grow more interested in her visit. “Tag asked that I pick up your things at the Gilford and make you feel welcome.”
Flowing red hair cascades around porcelain shoulders as she sets my bag on the bed. “He’s always been like that with the ladies. I can’t tell you how many women have gotten the wrong idea about his ways and thought that they were special.”
Her smile doesn’t erase the calculating edge to her gaze, and I bristle. Is she seriously sizing me up?
Catty women are the same all around the world. I ignore the drama, grip the handles of my duffle, and move the bag to the dresser.
A wave of panic hits when I lift it.
It’s way too light.
The sixty grand I lined into the false bottom was a comforting weight throughout my travels. Now, it’s gone. I fight the urge to fling my clothes into the air to rip into the bag.
Instead, I force a smile. “Thanks for bringing this.”
She juts her hip out and leans against the end of the bed. “I bet a gun battle was more than you bargained for when you decided to take Tag for a wild ride, wasn’t it?”
Her tone is casual, but her eyes are probing, searching.
“Thanks again for my bag. I’m sure you’ve got a busy day to get to.”
