Chapter 11

Laine

The night air is still damp and brisk as we step out of Rose's house, my heart pounding against my ribcage. Tag has an arm around my hips as he leads me down the driveway toward the black SUV. His grip is firm but not unkind, his touch sending an inexplicable shiver down my spine.

Either he means to keep me safe or to keep me from running. It's impossible to know which.

Likely both.

The moment we step off the porch, a blond beast of a man gets out of the driver's seat. I recognize him as the one who rushed into the office to cover our butts when the McGuires attacked. "Are the two of you whole?"

"We are." Tag guides me straight toward the passenger side door and then frowns at the redhead sitting in the front seat. "And why is Siobhan here?"

He shrugs. "You needed a pickup, and I came straight as soon as I heard. She was in the truck."

Tag gives him a look I don't understand but lets it pass. "Laine, this is Aiden Kelly, my right hand."

"I recognize you from Tag's office. You held back the McGuires while Tag and I escaped. Are you in one piece?" I look him over and because it's night, and he's wearing all black, I wouldn't be able to tell if he's whole or if he's bleeding to death.

"Right as rain, lass. And speaking of rain, let's get out of it." He shifts his gaze over to Tag. "Where to? The loft? The clubhouse?"

"The house."

Aiden straightens, then looks from his boss to me and then back to Tag. "All right. The house it is."

Tag opens the door to the back seat and helps me inside with a gentleness that conflicts with the man I now know him to be—the head of the Quinn family.

And though I'm not familiar with it, growing up on the streets of Chicago, I can extrapolate. It's the name that would whisper danger in the dark corners of pubs and alleys.

Tag climbs in on the opposite side and reaches across me to grab my seat belt. The sudden nearness of him consumes the space and eats at my resolve. I push at his chest. "I'm not a child. I can buckle myself?—"

"It's done," he says, frowning at me and retreating to his side of the seat. "I told you I will take to get you back to your life whole, so don't fight me if I want to make sure you're safe. Do you know how many times people have tried to run me off the road?"

My mouth falls open. "Do you know that's not a normal thing people ask someone? Jesus, Tag."

He shrugs. "Welcome to Dublin."

The woman in the front seat laughs. "Same old, Tag. You've always had a way with the ladies."

Tag sends her a lethal glare. "Shut it, Siobhan, or Aiden can pull over and you can feck off."

Good. It's good for me to see the angry, ruthless side of him. It will keep me focused on leaving this madness behind me.

I turn to watch the streets pass in a blur of city lights. Despite his assurance that he's looking out for me, I can't help but feel like he's taking me prisoner for his own selfish reasons.

I reach for the window button and drop the tinted glass an inch to let in some air. Exhaustion is clawing its way over me, and I don't feel safe falling asleep in this truck.

The drive to the Quinn house is shrouded in silence. Aiden focuses on the road, Siobhan takes the threat to stay quiet to heart, and Tag focuses on his phone.

That leaves me with my turbulent thoughts.

The landscape shifts from quaint rural roads to more secluded estate homes with wooded grounds. Every turn takes me further away from what little I know in this country, and deeper into the enigma that is Tag Quinn.

I cast a sideways glance at him as we approach the Quinn home and wonder what is going on in his mind. He faced off against a rival mob tonight, was shot at, and sitting here beside me is the tensest I've seen him.

Why doesn't he want to be here?

Maybe he doesn't want me to be here.

The gates to his family home loom ahead, grand and imposing. We approach a guard house where two men with automatic weapons are standing sentry. The gates split apart without us stopping, and Tag rolls down his window and nods. "On your toes tonight, lads. Safe home."

Aiden drives along the winding path and I wonder how long it will be until we see the house. Sitting forward, I open the window wider.

The grounds are expansive and there are cameras among the trees and movement in the shadows tells me there is an unmistakable presence of more security personnel.

How will I ever escape from here?

"You won't." Tag's voice is harsh, his gaze hard.

I blink. "I won't what?"

A sly smile curls his lips. "I've been trained to read people my entire life, Laine. Assume I can read your mind."

I cross my arms and glare at him. Such an autocratic, arrogant ass.

He barks a laugh and nods. "Aye, I can be. Now, be good. We're here. In ten minutes, you'll be in your room and rid of me for the night."

"That's the best news I've heard all evening."

The house itself is an elegant stone castle, its ivy-clad fa?ade and pointed, leaded windows a beautiful testament to an old-world charm. The lights in the front flower beds illuminate the structure like something out of a millionaire magazine.

I don't think I've ever seen anything so beautiful.

Yet, the tight security makes it clear that this place is built as much for defense as it is for comfort.

Aiden pulls the SUV under a wide overhang on the side of the castle and a silver-haired woman in traditional livery rushes out through a set of double doors.

When the engine cuts off, Tag gets out and somehow makes his way around to open my door before I get my buckle off and can do it myself.

I peg him with a look. "You can cut the gentleman routine, Mr. Quinn. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice? No, I don't think so."

I slap away his hand as he extends it to me to help me out of the truck and he laughs. "You're cranky when you're tired."

"Yeah, well, it's been a day."

"When and where do you want to meet, brother?" Aiden asks.

"In the war room in ten," Tag says. "And make sure Finn joins us. He's been moping too long."

"Agreed."

Tag walks beside me as we approach the woman, and she dips her chin. "Such a pleasure to have you home again, sir."

"Thank you, Cora. Is the Silver Room ready for a guest?"

"Yes, sir. Always."

"Perfect. Then please fix a tea tray with a light snack and bring it up to Miss O'Neill. She's had a long day and will turn in straight away."

"Aye, sir. I'll be right up, ma'am."

I'm about to tell her not to bother, but I don't have the energy. Sure. Whatever. If it makes him feel like he's in charge of me to give orders, let him think that.

Tag leads me inside, and the interior is just as impressive as the exterior—rich hardwood floors, antique furniture, and opulent rugs.

But it's the air of solemnity that captivates me, the quiet power that seems to permeate through the very walls of the Quinn family home.

"Holy shit, am I dreaming?"

I turn toward the male voice and find two more Quinns. There's no doubt about it—these men are his brothers. They are the bigger, bulkier version of Tag, but with a devilish youth that seems to have been lost or worn down on their older brother.

"Wow, you boys look so much alike."

Tag nods. "We all take after our da. These are the twins, Brendan and Bryan."

"Did your mother's genes even try?"

He arches an ebony brow. "The Quinn genes are hard to overcome. Come now, I'll show you to your room. Boys, war room in ten."

"Why? What's happened?" Brendan asks.

"A great deal."

Tag walks me up the grand staircase and stops at a door halfway down an ornately decorated hallway. "I'm sure you'll be comfortable, but if you need anything, there's an intercom by the bed to call Cora."

He opens the door to reveal a bedroom that's both luxurious and inviting, with a large four-poster bed and a view of the gardens. "I'll ask Aiden to retrieve your things from the Gilford. You'll have them by morning."

My steps falter. "I'd rather he not."

"And why is that?" he asks in a calm, confident tone. "I assure you there is nothing about your delicates or your belongings that will shock or interest him."

I draw a deep breath and sigh. "I was looking forward to staying in that little inn. I thought it would be my sanctuary in this foreign land."

"Things have changed."

Yes, and I'm trying to figure out how to change them back without getting drawn into the Quinn whirlpool any further. "It's fine. I rented the room for a week. I'm sure my things are safe there."

He arches an imperious brow. "Reading people is a skill that keeps me and those around me alive. As I mentioned earlier, I am extraordinarily good at it. Right now, you're being evasive, verging on lying. What is it you don't want Aiden to find?"

I roll my eyes. "You really have a problem with privacy, don't you?"

"I am trying to be accommodating and make your stay here more comfortable."

"This isn't a hotel stay, Tag. You've basically kidnapped me."

His expression hardens. "Trust me. If this were a kidnapping, you wouldn't be in the guest room of my family home."

No. I'd likely be locked in a basement somewhere with a single bed against a concrete wall because that's the kind of man he is.

"Fine. Get my things or don't. I don't care."

He exhales and rubs a rough hand over his stubbled jaw. "Tomorrow, I'll show you around, but tonight I'm needed downstairs. You look knackered, so get some rest."

"If knackered is ready to drop, then I'm guilty as charged."

With that, he turns to leave, but stops in the hall and turns back. His emerald gaze is as stormy as ever, and I fight not to get drawn into it.

"I realize you're a smart woman, but just for the sake of clarity, don't try to leave. After the attack at the pub, my men will have instructions to take down anyone on the grounds with violent force. I'd hate for you to be hurt."

The threat is clear but there is genuine concern there too. "Just for the sake of clarity, not being allowed to leave is the very definition of kidnapping."

He scowls. "Sleep well, Miss Laine. Hopefully, things will look better in the morning."

I close the door softly and turn to face the room.

I doubt that very much.