Chapter 22

Laine

As I step out of the car, the soft crunch of gravel under my feet blends with the rustling of leaves in the evening breeze. The day at the seaside with my kin has lightened my spirits, and the salty memories still cling to my skin. The sun, now a golden smear on the horizon, bathes the Quinn castle in a warm glow.

It's magical.

"Home again, home again." Finn swings the keys around his finger as he closes the door behind me.

"I can't thank you enough, Finn, though I feel bad you sat in the truck the whole day."

"Not the whole day," he says, pulling the strap of his backpack higher on his shoulder. "I set out a chair at the back of the truck and read in the sunshine for a few hours."

I pat his arm. "You're a good sport. Thank you."

He winks and then looks up to smile at Tag waiting for us at the entrance. "Hello, brother. What's the craic?"

"Oh, there's splendid craic today. Did the two of you have a nice time?"

"I certainly did," Finn says without hesitation.

I nod. "I did as well."

"Good then. I look forward to hearing all about it over dinner." Tag opens the door for us, his stance relaxed, the worries of this morning seemingly gone and forgotten. "Bryan and Brendan went up to grab their gear before heading over to the gym. They're going to work out a bit and go over the last of the arrangements for the charity fight."

"Och, good. I think I'll join them for the workout." Finn winks at me. "Don't want to get soft around the middle."

As if. All five of the Quinn brothers are built like scrappy street fighters. I don't think there's anything doughy about any of them.

When he jogs off toward the stairs, Tag waggles his brows at me. "Looks like we'll have the house to ourselves tonight."

I wait for the oppressive anxiety that being alone with Tag should elicit, but it doesn't come.

I'm not sure what that says about me but speaking with Patrick this afternoon brought two important points to light.

First, Tag Quinn isn't responsible for my life currently being adrift. That is Moneta business. And while things got more complicated upon my arrival, it was through no fault or action of Tag.

Second, if I were asked to represent Tag or one of his brothers, given what I know about them, I would find them worthy of my time and I would rise to the challenge of defending them.

Occupied as I am in my thoughts, I lose track of where we're going until Tag opens a set of double doors and leads me into a romantic haven.

I take it in, my heart skipping a beat at the gesture. "What's this?"

"I thought since the boys were off to the gym, we might enjoy a quiet evening, just the two of us. I'm anxious to hear about your day."

His suggestion, casual yet intimate, sparks a flutter of excitement within me. We walk together, into the intimate space, softly lit by the sinking sun.

Twinkling fairy lights are strung across the ceiling, casting a gentle glow that dances on the walls. At the center, a small table for two is impeccably set with fine china and crystal glasses that catch the light, shimmering like tiny stars.

A bouquet of wildflowers sits in the middle, their colors vibrant against the white linen tablecloth.

Soft music whispers through the air, a delicate instrumental that adds to the atmosphere of serene isolation. It's as if the room has been carved out from the rest of the world, sheltering us from everything outside its glass walls.

Tag pulls out a chair for me, and I sit down, still taking in every detail of this setup. "Tag, this is beautiful, but you didn't have to do this. I'm just as happy grabbing a burger and a beer with your brothers."

He squeezes my shoulders and bends to kiss the top of my head. "Nonsense. I wanted to give us a moment, to enjoy each other's company with no distractions. You've made several comments in passing that make me think that your husband didn't cherish you as he should have. I will set that right."

I'm still such a jumbled mess inside that the mention of Marco threatens to set me off, but after the day I had, I'm not going to let it. Marco Moneta is in my past. Maybe he's alive or maybe not, but he is no longer my concern.

Moving to take his place on the opposite side of the little table, Tag settles in. His gaze locks with mine, earnest and open. "Would you like some wine before dinner?"

"Yes. That sounds lovely."

"White or red?"

"I think white tonight, if that's all right."

He pours, and I accept the glass, swirling the contents in the wide bowl at the bottom. "A day in the countryside has done you good. You seem much more at peace."

I sip against the edge of my glass and swallow. "I am. With a little distance and a long conversation with my newfound cousin, Patrick, I was able to put a few things into perspective."

Tag sits back and sips at his glass. "Anything you want to share?"

"I'm still sorting through it, but I'm closer."

He takes another sip. "You'll find not only am I an incredibly patient man, I'm also a good listener."

"I have no doubt."

But while I'm not ready to get into all that, I'm happy to tell him about my great aunt and my cousins and the quaint home on the little country property in town. "And my mom's boyfriend from back in the day will help me find the perfect place to spread her ashes."

"I'm sure he's honored to help."

"I think so. He seemed very moved by the whole thing. If it wasn't so long ago, I'd say he might still hold a torch for her."

Cora wheels in a serving cart with two silver heating domes over our plates. "Shall I serve, Sir?"

"Unnecessary, Cora. I'm sure we'll manage."

Cora dips her chin and steps back. "I'll bring coffee and dessert after a while, then."

"Perfect. Thank you."

When we're alone again, Tag makes quick work of setting our plates before us. "Ginny came by this afternoon, and I asked her what you fancied trying on the menu. I'm hoping she was paying attention."

I stare down at the chicken curry with jasmine rice and mango chutney. A long inhale fills my senses with the glorious scent of it, and my stomach growls in appreciation. "It smells delicious."

I'm still processing the yumminess of my dinner when his words sink in. "Ginny was here? Did she find my mom?"

"Aye, she returned the little urn, your jacket, and your purse, safe and sound. I set them up on your dresser myself. Your purse is a little worse for wear, but the urn is unharmed."

Tag's perfect face wavers behind a wall of tears and I lift my linen napkin to my face to pat them dry. "That's such a relief. Thank you."

"Of course. It's my pleasure to reunite the lovely O'Neill ladies once again."

There's so much emotion packed into my gratitude that I focus on dinner rather than getting swept away by the kindness of Tag Quinn.

Thankfully, he seems to sense I need a moment, and we set our sights on our meals. The next time I look up, he's staring with a dazzling smile dancing in his brilliant green eyes.

"What? Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Honestly, it's the first time in years that a lady at my table has been so consumed by her meal that it was like I wasn't even in the room."

I set my cutlery down. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to ignore you. My mind is?—"

He holds up his hands. "Och, no, don't apologize. I found it wonderfully refreshing. For the past decade, I've been ‘Tag Quinn' heir to the Quinn family or head of the Quinn family. That makes dinners uncomfortable and often hard to digest. I love that you felt at ease enough to eat with me and spend time with your thoughts. Although, I do wonder what those thoughts comprise."

I brush my napkin over my mouth and set my empty plate onto the cart. "First, I was engrossed by the meal. It was delicious."

"Cora will be thrilled to hear you enjoyed it."

"And beyond that…there are things I need to figure out about the life I left behind."

He clears his plate and leans forward on the table. "The idiot cheating husband, you mean?"

"Among other things, yes."

"I'd like to help you with things, if you'll let me."

I tilt my head from side to side. While it would be good to have his insight into how much trouble I might be in from the Chicago family, Tray was very clear—Madelaine Moneta died that night.

I can't have people poking around, stirring up questions now that I'm here. Even if the person stirring up those questions is better equipped to handle things than me.

"Thank you for the offer, but I've never been one to have a man solve my problems. I want to try to sort things out myself if I can."

"All right. We'll leave it at that for now, but maybe there's a way I can help and not solve your problems? Is there anything you need?"

I can think of a dozen things this man could do to me as well as for me, but I don't think that's what he's asking. "Could Finn take me into town for a laptop and a phone? I'm cut off from the world right now and don't know if anyone is looking for me."

His gaze grows darker. "Do you think your husband's people are looking for you?"

"I honestly don't know, but if they are…it won't be good for anyone."

Tag

Cora clears the dishes from our main course and leaves us with my favorite raspberry mousse chocolate cake for dessert. "You're spoiling me, Cora."

She grins. "And happy to admit it, sir. It's so good to have you back home where you belong."

"I don't disagree, though I'm sorry it took me so long to realize it."

She waves that away. "Do you need anything else?"

I glance over to where Laine's moonlit eyes are telling tales of a long few days. She's tired and has had a good day. I don't want to press my luck.

"No. This is wonderful, thank you. Feel free to turn in for the night. You can get the tea tray and dessert dishes in the morning."

"Are you sure?"

I nod. "I am. We'll enjoy our dessert, and then I'll escort Miss O'Neill up to her room."

"As you wish, sir." Cora takes the serving cart and wheels away, leaving Laine and I in a content quiet.

Something shifted between us today. I'm not sure if it was spending time with her family or having her mother's ashes returned to her or something more specifically between us, but the barriers of resistance between us are melting away.

And as much as I love a mystery, I like it even more that she's opening up—a little.

"I've got an idea," I suggest, noticing her attempt to stifle a yawn with grace. "How about we take our tea and dessert outside? The night's too nice to waste, and the back terrace has the best view of the moonrise."

"That sounds lovely," she replies, her fatigue momentarily forgotten as she accepts my hand to help her stand.

A throat clears by the door, and when I look over, I want to curse Aiden. "What are you doing back here, mate? I thought everyone was off doing busy work."

"Sorry to interrupt. I need to speak with you."

I shoot him a glare. "Can it wait until morning?"

"If it could, I wouldn't be here interrupting your evening."

"It's fine," Laine says, picking up her cake. "I'm done in for the night, anyway. I'll take this up to bed and see you in the morning."

"But what about the terrace?"

She casts a quick look at Aiden and then drops her gaze. "The terrace will still be there tomorrow. Have a good evening, gentlemen."

As she hurries away, Aiden crosses his arms over his broad chest and arches a brow.

"What?"

"I thought we agreed you'd keep your distance from her."

"And I did. I sent her into the countryside for the day while we figured out our response plan for the McGuires. Finn found her people, and she spent the day with them."

"So why is she back here?"

"Because she intrigues me."

"With the McGuires making a play, you don't need to be intrigued. You need to be focused."

"And I am. Why do you have such a problem with her?"

"We know nothing about her. Has Finn looked into her?"

I reclaim my seat at the table and chunk off a large bite of my cake. Aiden may have ended my evening early, but I won't let him take all the pleasure out of my night. "Enough to confirm that her story about arriving here and having a family in Brittas Bay rang true."

"But what about her life in Chicago? Do we know anything about that?"

I swallow the raspberry-chocolate bliss and close my eyes. "No, but she's sharing bits of her life as she begins to trust me."

"Like that she's married."

"To an eejit who doesn't take care of her."

"That's not your problem."

I take another bite of cake and remind myself that Aiden is my advisor. It's his job to advise. "You didn't come back here to talk about Laine. What was it you wanted to talk to me about?"

He doesn't look like he wants to let it go, but thankfully we move on. "Tonight went off without incident. Sean called in to say the first shipment of women was intercepted and delivered to the NGO."

"And the McGuire men?"

"Eliminated."

"The warehouse and holdings sites?"

"We haven't nailed them all down yet, but we're on it."

"Mattie will try to rush another shipment through quickly. Watch for it. We have to make sure he can't recover from this."

Dublin's criminal landscape is a chessboard, and every move we make shifts the pieces. The McGuires and the Quinns have coexisted for decades, but Mattie doesn't seem to want to play by my father's rules any longer.

"Anything else?"

Aiden drops his chin. "When Mattie realizes what's happening, he'll call a meeting to hash out a counterstrike. I have Siobhan working on where and when that will be. It might create an opportunity to clear the board."

"Set up surveillance for this yourself. We still haven't figured out who bugged the truck, but if there's someone in our camp who shouldn't be, I don't want our plans getting back to the McGuires."

Aiden nods. "Agreed. The next few days are going to be important. Don't let anything slip to your houseguest that could do us in."

I arch a brow at how cheeky he's getting. "The same goes for you and pillow talk with Siobhan. Nothing is said to her that doesn't involve her directly in the capacity of her job."

Aiden rolls his eyes. "Fine."