Russian faded, as did the sound of the stranger’s footsteps. Whoever had come up here hadn’t been very thorough.
Had they been looking for me? Or for Finn?
I sent up a quick prayer of thanks that I’d sent him out to confess. God, talk about perfect timing.
The only problem was, I didn’t dare move. How would I know the apartment was clear? How would I know it was safe, and that the Russian wasn’t waiting for Finn to arrive? And if he was waiting on Finn’s return, I had no means of warning my husband, because, dammit to hell, I’d left my cell phone charging on the nightstand.
Oh, God. I was one of those women. One of those stupid damn women in the horror movies who went outside when everyone behind the screen was yelling at her foolish ass to stay inside the house.
Fuck.
Fright crashed into my very fragile sense of self. I was shaking like a leaf from both the exertion and terror, and in the end, I had to slump against the side of the wardrobe, my head pressing into the maple, to stop myself from passing out.
I didn’t know how long it was, hours or minutes later, but I heard Finn’s panicked voice as he called my name.
“Finn!”
God, was that me?
So weak? So quivery?
I wasn’t sure he could hear me, but how would I find the strength to speak up?
I clenched my eyes shut, gathered all my strength in preparation for yelling out his name, but I didn’t have to.
The door opened. The clothes were shoved aside, and there they were.
The O'Donnelly brothers and Finn. All armed. All looking a mixture of piss-your-pants scary and concerned for me.
When Finn’s worried gaze snared mine, my knees buckled like that was all I’d been waiting for. He swore and dove to catch me. I had no doubt he would, just hated that I looked so damn weak—especially in front of his brothers. They were men who respected strength, something I’d seen the first time I’d met them that initial Sunday lunch I’d had with the family.
Flopping into Finn’s arms wasn’t exactly a show of strength, and I felt sick about it, but I nuzzled into Finn’s arms the second he hauled me into him. Needing his support, needing to cling to him. Just knowing he was here made me feel safe, when life had already proven to me that there was no such thing as safety anymore.
God, what had I gotten myself into?
“Fuck, Aoife, fuck,” he whispered, kissing my head, kissing the side of my face. Anywhere he could reach, he kissed, and I sensed his panic in each caress.
“What’s going on?” I whispered back, frightened by how quiet my voice was.
Shit, was I on the brink of passing out?
The combination of the heat from the closet, the fact I’d been standing for only God knew how long, and the gut-wrenching fear were plaguing my besieged system.
But I had to be strong.
Had to be.
Finn didn’t need a wimp for a wife. It was bad enough I’d hid in a fucking wardrobe again, but I’d had no choice, had I? It wasn’t like I had a gun in my bedside table. Crap, it wasn’t like I could even fire one.
Putting shooting lessons on the top of my to-do list when I got back on my feet, I let Finn carry me to the bed. Declan had already dragged the covers back, and Finn lay me amid the sheets and covered me.
I shot the brothers a look and saw they were staring back at me grimly. The only one who wasn’t here was Aidan, and considering he was still in the hospital, that made sense.
“How did you know someone was here?”
“Someone hacked the code box on the elevator. I got a notification on my phone.” Finn took a careful seat at my side as he leaned over to drag open the nightstand drawer.
The good stuff, like lube and condoms, had been shoved in the middle one, and pain meds had been stored at the top.
I really had not envisaged starting married life out with pain meds in the top drawer of my nightstand.
“He was Russian,” I told Finn, catching each man’s eye. Before they could ask how I knew—no, I wasn’t a mind reader, but the way they gaped at me was irritating—I continued, “H-He came in here and was looking for me. He spoke with someone on his phone. I didn’t understand any of it.”