The Navy SEAL’s Holiday Fling: Ballybeg Bad Boys, Book 3 Page 7

  “Will do,” Jill said, opening the car door. “Thanks for the lift.”

  “For the woman who helped capture The Ghost, any time.”

  The Ghost…Jill shivered. Despite knowing the man had been arrested at Blush Shoppe, she had a lingering sense of unease. Probably the dual shocks of yesterday’s bomb and today’s encounter with a terrorist had shattered her nerves. A good night’s sleep would do her the power of good.

  When Jill let herself into the house, her nostrils twitched. Aftershave. Funny, she hadn’t noticed Garda Toomey’s aftershave in the car. Liam? But his scent was subtler than this and wouldn’t have lingered for twenty-four hours. She blinked and gave herself a mental shake. Yeah, her nerves were shot. The aftershave must be Garda Toomey’s.

  After she’d locked and bolted the door, she sagged against it and squeezed her eyes shut. Liam would be at the airport by now, waiting to board his plane. Would she ever see him again? Was he serious about wanting a relationship with her, or was last night just another pretense? Her heart soared at the memories. Even if it was all an illusion, just another act like he’d played with Jean-Baptiste, she had no regrets. The sex had been off the charts and the warmth of another human body was exactly what she’d needed after the shock of yesterday’s bomb.

  Whatever happened, she was moving forward with her life. Happiness and living a normal life was the best remedy against people who sought to destroy freedom.

  Jill shrugged off her coat and shoes and climbed the ladder to her loft bedroom, wincing each time she placed her weight on her bad ankle. A hot shower was what she needed right now, preferably with her favorite rose shower gel.

  She slung her handbag onto the floor and hooked her phone up to its charger. After she’d grabbed clean underwear and pajamas from her wardrobe, she padded across the room to the tiny bathroom.

  In the bathroom, she turned on the water, letting it get nice and hot, and stripped out of her clothes. The instant she stepped under the jets and the needles hit her tired skin, she sighed in pleasure.

  Pure heaven.

  When Liam peered through the one-way mirror at the Emergency Response Unit’s HQ, icicles formed on his spine. “That’s not him,” he said hoarsely. “That’s not The Ghost.”

  “What?” barked Inspector Tobin. “Of course it is. The man’s already confessed.”

  Liam shook his head. “I’m telling you, it isn’t him.”

  Inspector Tobin swore in a language Liam assumed to be Gaelic and ran a hand through his sparse red hair. “Are you sure?”

  “I’m positive. I wish I wasn’t, believe me.”

  The police inspector shook his head, already tapping numbers into his phone. “I’ll reactivate the alert until we know more. Go in there and question the man yourself. Why is he saying he’s The Ghost if he’s not?”

  “I don’t know. Lust for notoriety? A loose screw? Does he have a vine tattoo on his left hand?”

  “The man is covered in tattoos. He’s got a vine or a snake or something trailing down his arm. Are you sure you got a good look at The Ghost’s tattoo?”

  “I’m certain. It was a vine.”

  The policeman bounced impatiently on the balls of his feet and thrust open the door of the interrogation room. He ushered Liam inside. “Go ahead and question him. If we’ve got the wrong fella, we’re well and truly fucked.”

  The man in handcuffs raised his head when Liam entered. He examined his new visitor carefully.

  Liam returned the favor. The man who claimed to be The Ghost was as nondescript as the guy he’d eyeballed in France. Same average height, average build, average face. As Tobin had mentioned, he sported several tattoos, one of which snaked down onto his left hand—literally.

  Liam leaned down to get a closer look. “That is a snake, not a vine.”

  The prisoner snorted. “Of course it’s a fucking snake, man.” He yanked the sleeve of his shirt up to reveal the rest of the tattoo. “It’s Saint Patrick ridding Ireland of snakes.”

  “Who are you?” Liam demanded. “Why did you break into Blush Shoppe?”

  The man shrugged. “A mate in my local pub had the catalog. He said they stocked solid gold vibrators. I was to break in and nick a few, and we were going to flog them on the black market. Solid fucking gold, man. Who pays thirty thousand euros for vibrator, I ask you?”

  “If you’d read the catalog properly, you’d have seen that they don’t stock them in the stores. The gold versions are special order only.”

  The man mouth gaped. “You’re not serious. Are you saying I broke in for nothing?”

  “It would appear so.” Liam swung his legs over a chair and sat across from the prisoner. “Let me get this straight. You didn’t go to the Blush Shoppe store to attack Jill Bekele?”

  “Who the hell is she?”

  “The woman who threw a paperweight at your head,” Liam said, indicating the impressive lump on the other man’s forehead.

  “That bitch?” The man’s face contorted with rage. “I’ve had a splitting headache ever since she whacked me.”

  Inspector Tobin, still clutching his phone, marched into the interrogation room. The policeman’s nostrils flared when he scanned the prisoner. Judging by the red flush on the police inspectors face, he’d received a reprimand from his superiors.

  “Did you or did you not blow up the Sheldon Hotel yesterday?” Tobin demanded.

  The prisoner regarded him through bloodshot eyes. “Of course I bloody didn’t. Why would I want to bomb a hotel? Sure I was in my local pub the entire evening. You ask Tommy the barman at Dingle’s in Cobh. He’ll back me up.”

  Tobin’s face grew even redder. If he were a pressure cooker, he’d explode. “Then why the hell did you say you were The Ghost?”

  The man shrugged. “I don’t know what I said. I was hit on the head by that mad bitch in the shop, and then one of your eejit officers electrocuted me.”

  Liam and Tobin exchanged glances. “I believe him,” Liam said. “I’m going to call Jill to make sure she’s okay.”

  He slipped his phone out of his pocket and hit Jill’s number. It went straight to voice mail. Liam frowned. “Do you have a number for the police who escorted Jill home?”

  Tobin nodded and punched a number into his phone. After a tense wait, the man shook his head. “Neither Toomey or Walsh is answering.”

  Liam’s stomach clenched and the pulse at the base of his neck throbbed. “I don’t like this. I’m going to Ballybeg to check on Jill.”

  “I’m sure she’s fine,” Tobin said, not looking convinced. “I sent her home with two of my best plain-clothes detectives. Go on and catch your flight before it’s too late.”

  Liam shook his head. “No. I’ve had a bad feeling all day. I can’t leave Ireland until I know Jill’s okay.”

  Tobin sighed and got to his feet. “Go on, then. As for me, it appears I still have to hunt down a terrorist.”

  Jill hummed her favorite dance tune and worked the rose-scented shower gel into a lather. The hot needles of the shower on her aching bones felt so good. She adjusted the angle of the showerhead and stretched her neck from side to side. At this moment, Liam must be at the airport, if not already on the plane. How could a man whose real name she’d only know for a day have come to mean so much to her? Was it a reaction to the crazy events of the last twenty-four hours? Even if that were the case, her heart had filled with joy when he’d suggested she visit him in January. Life didn’t come with guarantees. That much had become abundantly clear to her over the last day. Whatever happened between her and Liam, she intended to choose joy and live a life filled with love and laughter.

  She grabbed a bottle from the rack and squeezed shampoo onto her hair.

  And froze. What was that sound?

  Pulse pounding, she turned off the water and listened.

  Nothing.

  The seconds stretched into a minute. She released the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding and shook her head, laughing at
her jumpiness. Yeah, her nerves must be frayed from lack of sleep and shock if she was imagining sounds that weren’t there.

  She massaged shampoo into her hair but didn’t switch the water back on.

  Thirty seconds later, her heart leaped in her chest. There it was again. Someone was moving about downstairs. Had the police changed their minds about coming inside? But she’d bolted the doors, both front and back, just like they’d told her to. If they wanted to come in, they’d have to ring the doorbell.

  Jill removed shaky hands from her soapy hair and stepped out of the shower. When she landed on her bad foot, she bit her tongue to silence a yelp. She edged her way out of the shower cubicle and gasped.

  Words were scrawled across the floor-to-ceiling bathroom mirror in soap. They must have been there before she’d gotten into the shower but she hadn’t been able to see them until the mirror steamed up.

  Corinthians 6:15

  Do you not know that your bodies are members of Christ himself? Shall I then take the members of Christ and unite them with a prostitute? Never!

  Her breathing grew labored. The Ghost.

  Oh, shit. Why hadn’t she brought her phone into the bathroom? It was still on her bedside table, hooked up to its charger. She inched out of the bathroom, trying not to make a noise.

  Someone was climbing the ladder up to her bedroom.

  Jill tasted bile. Her gaze darted around the room, searching for a weapon. On the bedside table was the Cleopatra sex toy Liam had used on her the previous night. And then she had an idea.

  She forced her legs into motion and sidled over to her bed. Struggling to breathe, she dropped to her knees and reached underneath for her box of sex toys. She eased it out, careful not to make a sound. Then she flipped the lid and reached inside. Her fingers closed around the Magick Wand and a pair of pink fluffy handcuffs.

  The person on the ladder was getting closer.

  Taking a deep breath, Jill extracted her makeshift weapons and waited.

  When fingers appeared on the uppermost rung of the ladder, she reached out and whacked them with the Magick Wand. A surprised grunt was followed by a shout. Her uninvited guest fell from the ladder and landed with a yowl. Jill grabbed her mobile phone and hit the number for emergency services.

  He was coming up again, shouting this time. When the strange man climbed into her bedroom with his eyes blazing and his fists clenched, Jill backed up against the wall.

  Oh, fuck.

  10

  Liam pressed the gas pedal to the floor, not caring if he racked up ten speeding tickets on the journey from Cork to Ballybeg. He hit Jill’s number but got her voice mail again. Ditto with the police stationed outside her house.

  Come on, one of you. Answer the damn phone.

  He passed the sign for Ballybeg and swerved into the narrow road that led to Jill’s house, dimming his lights. In the distance, he spied the upstairs light on in her house and the police car parked outside. No other vehicle was in evidence. His breathing steadied. At least the police were still there, but the fact that they weren’t answering their phones bothered him.

  Liam pulled up behind the police and killed the engine. After a quick check of his weapons, he slipped out of the car. He scanned the terrain while he padded toward the police vehicle, his ID card held high.

  No reaction. An icy prickle made the hairs on the nape of his neck stand to attention. Something wasn’t right.

  And then he registered the blood all over the police car and the two slumped figures inside. Fuck. He wrenched open the car door and the lifeless body of a young policemen tumbled out. A woman in the driver’s seat had been shot in the forehead. Liam checked both bodies for a pulse, but it was too late.

  Liam hit Tobin’s number. “Get your asses over to Jill’s house,” he said before the man could say a word of greeting. “He’s here.”

  Cocking both guns, Liam leaped over the garden wall and sprinted to the front door.

  He had to reach Jill before the Ghost did.

  The man reached for Jill’s phone and hurled it against the wall. Then he reached for her.

  Her breathing labored, she sidestepped him with more luck than finesse, and used every ounce of strength in her body to strike him across the face with the sex toy. Stunned, the man took a step back and whacked his head against a low beam, just as Liam had done last night. Clutching his head, he slumped to his knees.

  “What the fuck are you doing to me?” he moaned in excellent but accented English.

  Jill wasted no time. She hit him again and again until he lay prostrate on the floor. When she was certain she’d knocked him out, she seized his wrists and secured them with the handcuffs. Then she rooted through her box of tricks, located leather restraints, and used them to bind his ankles.

  Downstairs, someone banged on her front door. “Jill? Are you in there?”

  “Liam?” she shouted. “I’m coming.”

  She scrambled down the ladder and hobbled across the living room to the front door. She slid the bolt to the side, turned the key in the lock. When he burst in, she threw herself into his arms.

  “Jill,” he murmured, stroking her soapy hair. “Thank God you’re okay.”

  “How did you know I was in trouble?”

  “Someone shot the two police officers outside in the car. I’ve already notified Inspector Tobin and emergency services.”

  Jill covered her mouth to stifle a scream. Sergeant Walsh and Garda Toomey were dead? “The Ghost is up in my bedroom. He broke into my house and wrote a Bible quote on my bathroom mirror.” The words tumbled out in a mad jumble, sounding crazy even to her ears.

  Liam moved past her and scrambled up the ladder. “Whoa,” he said halfway up. “What the hell went on up here? A Blush Shoppe product demonstration?”

  “I’ll have you know that Blush Shoppe products make excellent weapons,” she said between tears. “I took him out with a Magick Wand.”

  “Are those pink fluffy handcuffs on his wrists?”

  “Yes. I had to improvise.”

  Liam whistled and peered down from the ladder. “You did well, girl. Remind me never to piss you off.”

  Jill shivered, realizing she was still wet and naked. She reached for her coat on the back of the door, and her fingers turned numb. A red backpack lay on her sofa. A red backpack that definitely hadn’t been there before she’d gone upstairs to have a shower. “Liam?”

  He came back down the ladder, an eyebrow raised in question. “Yes?”

  She pointed to the sofa. “Is that your backpack?”

  His gaze fixed on the object in question and his eyes widened. “Oh, fuck.”

  He sprinted across the room, grabbed Jill by the waist.

  “What are you doing?” she asked with a gasp, realizing the stupidity of her words as she was uttering them.

  Liam sprinted down the garden path with her in his arms, hurling them over the wall and racing down the lane. Police sirens sounded in the distance, and flashing lights followed a few seconds later.

  “Protect your head,” Liam shouted, and dove to the ground, sheltering Jill in his arms.

  Seconds later, her house exploded in a fiery inferno.

  The debriefing after The Ghost and Jill’s house were blown heavenward stretched into Christmas Day. While no positive I.D. had been made, international intelligence agencies were of the opinion that The Ghost was a lone wolf with a past affiliation to a Russian religious cult. Liam wasn’t entirely satisfied with this conclusion, but then, neither was anybody else. A terrorist with a name and a clear motive was easier to classify and analyze than a nameless lunatic. He and Cash would continue to dig for info but their hopes weren’t high.

  When Liam and Jill were finally allowed to leave the Emergency Response Unit’s HQ, Liam called Meggie via video chat in the lobby. She was adorable in her red Christmas dress and matching Santa hat. She’d even tied a lopsided red bow around Barnabus’s head.

  “I miss you, Daddy.”

 
Tears stung Liam’s eyes as he watched his little girl blow him a kiss. “I miss you, too. I’m sorry I couldn’t make it on time for Christmas. I’ll be with you as soon as I can.”

  His little girl nodded and adopted a stoic expression that no child her age should have to wear. “It’s okay. I know you were doing your job. Mommy says you’re a hero.”

  Liam’s laugh caught in his throat. “I don’t feel much like a hero, baby.”

  “I saw your picture on the news. The lady you saved is real pretty. I like her hair.”

  Now he laughed in earnest. “So do I.”

  Silence.

  Liam could see the wheels in Meggie’s head turning. “Is she your girlfriend?”

  He glanced in Jill’s direction. She was pretending not to listen in but the curve of her mouth gave her away. “I hope so, baby. How would you feel about her visiting us in January?”

  Meggie considered this proposition. “Does she like dogs?”

  Liam turned to Jill and raised an eyebrow in question.

  “Yes,” she mouthed.

  Liam grinned at Jill and turned back to the display. “Yeah. She likes dogs. And I’m sure she’s going to love Barnabus.”

  Meggie nodded. “Well, all right then. She can come visit. But if you guys get married, I want to wear a glittery dress.”

  “A…what?” Was this a fashion trend he’d missed?

  “Hang on a sec.” Meggie vanished from the screen. When she reappeared, she was holding up a Barbie doll that was wearing a hideous pink glittery dress. His little girl beamed. “I want a dress just like this one.”

  Liam opened and shut his mouth, fishlike. “Uh…sure.”

  In the background, the doorbell chimed.

  “That’s Grandma,” Meggie said. “I gotta go say hello.”

  “You do that.” Much as he’d miss chatting to Meggie, Liam had no desire to encounter his former mother-in-law, on screen or anywhere else. “Enjoy your Christmas.”

  “I will. See you.”

  When Meggie ended the call, Jill slipped her arms around Liam’s shoulders. “I’m sorry you won’t make it home in time to collect your daughter.”