she set a bomb in our facility. When it went off, Deacon and I”—and Lyse—“were too close to avoid a singein’.”
Siobhan shook her head, her eyes wide. “Why would she do that? It makes no sense, Fionn. The girl I know—”
“That’s just it—she’s not the girl you know. Not the woman I thought I knew. She cannot be trusted.”
“If that’s true,” his mam said, “tell me why she did it. Tell me so I can be understanding her.”
Fionn’s eyes narrowed. “I’m not caring why she did it. What I care about is that I can’t trust her, not with your life.”
“Fionn—”
He leaned down, absorbing her sweet scent as he hugged. Discussing this further would do no good, at least not tonight. “Good night, Mam.”
He turned to walk away, but her grip on his arm forced him to a halt. Or tried to, anyway. He looked down at Siobhan, burying his amusement at the thought.
His mam was deadly serious. “Don’t hurt her, Fionn. I don’t know what happened, but I can tell you are angry. Don’t do anything you’ll be regretting later.”
He had done a couple of things he’d been after regretting since he got here. When he was around Lyse, the anger took over his mind and overrode his control in ways he’d never allowed with another target, especially a woman. Looking into his mam’s eyes, the memories of those actions set off a hit of shame.
“I promise not to be hurting her,” he said.
Siobhan relaxed, and he wondered if she was truly thinking he would do something physical. He might not be the man who’d left Ireland a decade ago, but he hadn’t changed that much.
The memory of Lyse’s body forced between him and the cabinet, knowing he was grinding her against the counter in ways that would be painful, returned. He sighed and rubbed a hand down his face. Maybe he’d changed more than he thought.
The bedroom door was cracked open, and he entered without knocking. Lyse sat on the far side of the bed, her back to him, shoulders up around her ears. He knew immediately that she’d heard the conversation with his mam, but he refused to apologize.
“Have you been to the toilet?” He dumped his pack on the floor on the side of the bed closest to the door.
Lyse turned her head, giving him her solemn, stressed profile. “No.”
“Better be going.”
Lyse nodded and left the room. By the time she returned, he was ready for her.
“C’mere.”
As she rounded the end of the bed, eyeing him warily, he took ahold of her arm and whipped a zip tie around it before she could be protesting. The sleeve of her jumper would protect her skin from the plastic. Before Lyse could react, he had her at the headboard and attached to a daisy chain of zip ties that would be keeping her on the bed but not fully restricted during the night.
See, he could be nice.
What—” Lyse tugged on her arm, exasperation in her eyes. “Fionn…”
“This way I know you’ll be staying where I put you.”
“Fionn, I’m not going anywhere tonight.”
“You’re definitely not. I’ll be back.”
Grabbing what he needed from his pack, he left to get ready for the night. When he returned, it was to Lyse lying on the bed, her back to him, fully clothed but shoes off, glasses on the side table. Her hair was pulled up and spread over the pillow, leaving her nape bare. The vulnerability that one spot was revealin’ hit him somewhere he didn’t want to think about.
Leaving his fatigues on, he stripped off his shirt and emptied his pockets. The Sig went on the nightstand within easy reach. After turning off the light, he laid down on his side of the too-small bed and tried to be ignoring the fact that he was in bed with the woman he fantasized about far too often.
Except he couldn’t ignore it, and he couldn’t go to sleep. Every time he was close to drifting off, Lyse would shift around restlessly, jostling the bed as if she couldn’t find a way to get comfortable. He was wanting to help, to fix whatever the problem was, and that pissed him off. He jerked up to sitting. “What’s the story, for feck’s sake?”
The bed went still, almost as if Lyse was holding her breath “I can’t—” She sighed and shifted again. “I can’t sleep in these clothes, and you didn’t give me a chance to change.”
“What do you want me to be doing, stripping you?”
“N-no,”