Chapter 2

Chapter Two

The second Cass’s body softened against his, Dylan “Irish” O’Reilly cursed his impulsiveness.

One touch of her lips against his, and he was back to the night he and Cass had given into the passion they’d both tried hard to ignore.

It’d been a night like no other, but Cass was too good to be linked with him.

His tarnished reputation would steal all the good from her. Irish didn’t want to do that. Didn’t want what colored his soul to affect Cass. Whether his reputation was earned or given, he wouldn’t dull Cass’s shine.

But now.

Tonight. He couldn’t stop himself. The look of utter devastation, one she likely had no idea she was portraying, had him forgetting everything, and all he’d wanted to do was hold her. Help her. Attempt to erase the words that’d changed the trajectory of her life.

Her fingers teased the hair at the nape of Irish’s neck, and he pulled her even closer, hoping it would make her feel better.

The kiss went from demanding to soft, and her mouth opened beneath his, allowing him to deepen the lip lock.

From the moment Cass had walked into the Alliez office, with her dark rimmed glasses perched on the end of her nose, her hair pulled into a high ponytail, and her modest black dress skimming her curves, ending just above her knees, Irish had been lost.

He’d ignored her for the first six months. Only speaking when necessary. However, when she was instrumental in finding a missing woman using her computer skills, he’d given himself permission to not be so cold.

Slowly, Irish broke the kiss because if he didn’t, he’d be dragging her to her bedroom for a repeat performance of their night together.

Something he’d wanted to do on many occasions but hadn’t given into it. Because if he slept with her again, he wouldn’t be able to walk away. Wouldn’t be able to maintain the distance he kept for her own safety.

Her eyes slowly drifted open, and he could almost drown in her desire-laden brown eyes. Her lips were puffy from his kiss.

“I shouldn’t have done that, I’m sor?—”

“Don’t you dare apologize for that kiss.” In a flash, Cass was out of his arms and on the other side of the kitchen.

Irish scraped a hand down his face. This was why he shouldn’t put himself in Cass’s orbit. “You’re right. I’m not sorry.”

While those might not have been the words he wanted or should’ve said, they were the truth.

Her eyes widened. “Then why the hell did you say you were?”

He shrugged.

How the hell do I answer?

Whenever Irish was around her, he was always warring with himself. Always trying to do the right thing, although doing the right thing had never worked out for him.

“I think you should go,” she said when the silence between them dragged on for too long .

He crossed his arms over his chest. “Are we really going to do this? Because you know that’s not happening.”

“Oh my God, you are so frustrating,” Cass threw her arms up in the air. “Fine. But if you expect me to get you blankets for the couch, you can think again.”

With that, she turned on her heel and strode out of her kitchen, leaving him standing there.

Irish smirked. Fuck, she was amazing. The fire in her soul was a sight to behold, and he wanted to follow her to her bedroom. He’d be burned if he touched her again, but he didn’t care.

Except, he didn’t allow himself to give into the urge.

He stayed where he was, waiting until he was certain she was asleep, and she couldn’t tempt him to give into his baser needs.

Irish’s eyes popped open, his heart racing and sweat beading along his brow.

What’d woken him ?

Had he been dreaming about his last mission as a Delta, where everything had gone to shit?

No, he always knew when he woke up from that dream. This time, it was something else.

He sat up, the soft blanket he’d used sliding the ground. The couch in Cass’s living room was large and accommodated his six-foot four frame. It wasn’t as good as sleeping in her bed, but it was the next best thing.

Her cherry blossom scent had seeped into the cushions, and it surrounded him.

A soft cry reached his ears.

Was that what’d woken him?

Irish padded to the hallway that led to the two back bedrooms. One, Cass used as her office. The other was her haven. She’d told him so when she’d been soft and relaxed in his arms after they’d made love for the first time.

Just thinking about that night and her all curled up in her large king bed has his dick hardening against his boxers. He should’ve grabbed his jeans and put them on before he wandered anywhere near her bedroom.

The sound came again, a whimper followed by muttered words .

Wait, was that Spanish Cass was speaking? It was one of the languages he could speak, and that was definitely what it sounded like.

In all the years they’d been working together, he’d never heard her speak anything but English. She hadn’t even told them she spoke Spanish. Why would she keep something like that from Alliez?

He crept a little closer to her room. He’d just open her door a little, peek in, and see if she was okay. Perhaps she was watching something, and that was what he’d heard. A television show, and the sounds weren’t coming from Cass.

As quietly as possible, he turned the doorknob and pushed the door open. A soft glow came from the corner of the room. A night light on the wall.

Did she use the light because she was afraid of the dark? Or was it something more?

Had she always used one, or was it new?

Irish didn’t recall seeing it the night he’d stayed there, but in the grand scheme of things, it didn’t matter why she had it.

The dim light was enough for him to make out Cass curled up into a ball in the middle of her bed. The blankets were tangled around her, as if they were strangling her.

“ No, lo siento. Lo siento. ”

No. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.

Definitely Spanish, but what was she sorry about? Her voice was pitched higher, almost as though she was scared.

Irish didn’t have time to process anything.

Cass popped to a sitting position and screamed.

He raced to the bed, careful not to touch her. “Cass! Wake up!”

She kept screaming, lost in the torment of whatever was going on in her mind.

“Cassandra!” Irish yelled.

The screaming abruptly ceased. The remnants of it echoed in the room. It would be a long time before he forgot that toe-curling sound.

Carefully, as not to spook her, he climbed on the bed and pulled her into his arms. Her body trembled, and he had no idea if she was awake or still caught up in the web of her dream. “I’ve got you, sweetheart. I’ve got you.” He kept murmuring the words until her shaking subsided and she relaxed.

“Dylan,” she whispered.

Fuck, he loved it when she used his name. Not in anger, but that soft, reverent tone. The same way she’d spoken his name when he’d slid into her body for the first time.

“I’m here. I’ve got you,” he repeated.

Irish had no idea how long they stayed like that. Both holding each other. It could’ve been seconds, minutes, or hours. It didn’t matter.

All that mattered was that whatever demons had crept into her dreams were gone.

Cass’s body rose and fell as a large sigh rippled through her. “What happened?” she asked.

Irish shifted them so they rested against her headboard. He fixed the covers around her so she was snug beneath it, and he lay on top of it. “You were having a dream,” he started. What he said next would add to the mystery of what she’d found out earlier. “You were speaking in Spanish.”

Cass stiffened and tried to move away from him, but he kept his arm around her. “What? I don’t speak Spanish.”

Yep the exact response he’d expected. “I know, but I heard you saying, ‘I’m sorry’ twice in Spanish.”

“Saying two words hardly means I know the whole language,” Cass scoffed.

Irish had to concede she had a point, but that wasn’t all she’d said—those words were the only ones he’d heard clearly. “Correct, but before you said that, you were muttering in Spanish. I couldn’t hear what you were saying clearly, but you were definitely saying more than I’m sorry over and over.”

“I don’t understand. Even now if I think about saying something in Spanish all that comes to mind is ‘ muchas gracias.’ You know, the basic kind of words that everyone knows.”

“I can’t answer why, but maybe, for whatever reason, it’s locked away.”

Cass’s eyes widened with a hint of fear in them.. “What’s your earliest memory?”

The change of subject was sharp, but Irish followed because he suspected where it was headed, based on something she’d said earlier. “I was four. It was my birthday, and I got a fire truck. I also remember being on the swings at kindergarten. I would’ve been around the same age.”

“My earliest memory is the first day of school, when I was going into third grade. I was already eight because my teacher grouped us into kids who were already eight and those who would turn eight before the calendar year finished.”

“There are some people who don’t remember their younger years. I don’t think you should be too worried.” He clamped his lips shut and withheld a groan. Why did he say that? He gave her shoulder a squeeze. “Sorry, that was an asshole thing to say.”

“It was, but I feel like I should remember something earlier than that, considering what I do for a living. I can remember the first code I learned when I was twelve.” Cass twisted the comforter in her hands.

Irish waited her out because she was obviously processing something.

Whether or not she’d tell him was another story.

Either way, he’d provide her with the comfort she needed. Because he wasn’t going to leave her to deal with this on her own. She may not know it or even want to acknowledge it, but that was what he was going to do.

“Back in the office when I opened that file—” She took a breath. “Sharp pains pounded my skull. Like what I’ve been experiencing the last few months.”

“I know,” Irish murmured. He’d been walking past her office when he heard her gasp, and recognized the sound for what it was. He’d been there a second later, letting her know she wasn’t alone.

Then he’d seen it. The words that’d led them to this moment.

“This was different, though. When I closed my eyes, I saw something.”

Coming from an Irish family, he was well acquainted with feelings and seeing things from various family members. Hell, his instincts that something bad was about to happen had saved his ass on numerous occasions when he’d been on missions with his team.

Pity it hadn’t kicked in the last mission he’d been on, but he quickly pushed that thought away.

Not the time, nor the place.

“What did you see?” he asked when she hadn’t continued speaking.

“A man carrying a little girl. He was running down some streets. It was blurry, and I wasn’t sure if it was real or not.”

“Was the little girl you?”

Her shoulders rose up and down. “I don’t know. It was there, and then it was gone. It was probably something I saw in a movie.”

Irish doubted that. If Cass wasn’t in the office working on her computers, she was here doing the same. Although he’d heard through the office grapevine that the women who’d captured the hearts of three of the guys he worked with had been getting together for girls’ nights, and they’d included Cass in their little posse.

He was glad she had some friends because in all the time he’d known her, Cass had never talked about hanging out with girlfriends. Or even seeing her parents.

Irish wanted to push her further. To ask her if she talked to her parents. To discuss the file she’d unlocked, but she looked too exhausted.

“Sleep, Cass. Morning will be here before you know it.” Even though he didn’t want to walk away, it was the right thing to do. The only thing he should do. He lifted his arm away and went to slide off the bed, when her fingers curled around his forearm.

“Stay, please,” she asked.

It was the “please” that got him. Irish couldn’t deny her anything. Especially not after the dream she’d had and the confusion he’d given her when he told her about speaking Spanish. “Okay.”

Cass wiggled down until her head rested against the pillow.

He moved back to his position leaning against the headboard.

“Lie down, Irish. You can’t be comfortable like that.”

If he lay down, he’d be opening himself up to a temptation he was finding harder and harder to resist. Yet denying Cass what she wanted was impossible. Irish found himself sliding down so his head rested on the pillow next to hers.

He was still on top of the covers because getting under them would push him over the line he’d drawn.

“Sleep, Cass. I’ll keep you safe.” Irish twisted to his side so he was spooning her. He laid his arm over her and sighed when her fingers entwined with his.

What he’d do was wait until she fell asleep, and he’d leave her side, breaking his promise to keep her safe.

For his sanity and her safety, it was best for them both if he did that.