Page 54 of Midnight Escape

“Hey, times with Megan were different,” AJ blustered.

“Yeah, sure. You kept her on the run with you instead of handing her over to the safety of your brother’s protective arms. At least I’m utilizing all the protection available.”

“Megan was still different,” AJ hedged.

“Maybe not.” Let them take that for what it was worth. He’d just let them know Moira meant more than a friend needing protection. If they tried to take him off lead for the op because she meant something to him, he’d go ballistic. Only Boss could usurp his leadership of the team. Technically, any Hamilton brother could do that, but they didn’t. They left the teams to Boss and even followed him when they participated on a mission. Well, mostly. They each took over when the women, they later married, had been in danger.

“So that’s how it is.” AJ shook his head. “Only a man in too deep would even consider putting a tracker on his woman.”

Okay, it sounded wrong, but he knew it wasn’t. She’d been free to move around, but between the men he’d hired and the tracker, he’d known where she was in case she’d been in trouble. Well, except for last night, since he’d chosen not to replace the men. He’d become comfortable and somewhat safe. He swallowed at the thought of the danger she’d been in when he’d been drinking beer with the guys.

“Anything on the men who chased her?”

“Underground by association, but no specific IDs on their names.”

His gut clenched in fear for Moira. If they had caught her…. He couldn’t think it. “So now we need to figure out if she was a target of opportunity or contracted.”

“It sounds like they gave up too easily for a targeted pick,” Brad said. “Think about it. They let the boys turn them away from checking, not only the woman being kissed, but the women’s restroom. Then, they weren’t waiting outside the door for when she left. No, I’d go for target of opportunity. Those two were probably trying to impress the bosses. I’m upset to say that since they didn’t get Moira, they probably snatched another woman.”

Danny nodded. He liked that line of thinking, but not that another woman may have been abducted. They’d keep an eye out for anyone suspicious, potentially from the Underground, but he’d keep that hope she hadn’t been targeted. Just in case there was another faction at work, he’d check in with Justin and Declan to see if they knew of any activity.

“But someone still broke in and destroyed her studio,” Devon said. “Thatwas targeted. It screams petty though. The Underground would’ve trashed the entire place.”

It did seem petty. “Moira doesn’t know anyone she’s upset since she’s been here. Couldn’t it have been the two men who tried to grab her as a revenge for escaping them?”

“Then that changes things and would mean she wasn’t a crime of opportunity,” Brad said.

“We may have one or two contacts in the Underground. We’ll see what we can get from them,” said AJ, who’d been an enforcer for a drug lord, albeit undercover FBI. If contacts had been made, he’d have made them when he went through that dark time of his life.

“Well, until we find out, you’re all restricted to the house,” AJ directed. “No more shopping trips.”

He wanted to argue out of principle, but AJ had it right. They needed to stay together and out of sight. Now, if only he could convince Moira that was best, without scaring her to death about the potential threat.

Chapter Twenty-Three

The soothing sound of the storm outside didn’t interrupt Moira’s mind. She slid her brush across the celestial blue on her pallet for her drybrush stroke, but her mind wandered. Even though she’d painted mostly works of Ireland to keep the memories alive, Moira enjoyed living in America.

With a heavy sigh, she pulled back, and, with a critical eye, she inspected what she’d created so far. She hadn’t thought about what she’d been painting since her brush and muse helped bring it together. Another painting of the streets of Dublin. She’d only been to this narrow street, with bars on both sides and friends congregating on the street blocked off for traffic, a few times. Her recollections sometimes surprised her.

Taking the time to thoroughly clean her new brushes, she jumped when the front door slammed. Even with Danny’s teammates outside, fear ripped through her, and her body shook as small droplets of water dripped from the brush in her hand. They’d been on house arrest for three weeks now, and neither Danny nor the guards had slammed the door. She could only assume it was someone else—they’d been found. Thunder boomed at that moment, driving the terror home.

Her chest heaved and she couldn’t catch her breath.Not an attack, not now.With her heart pounding, her gaze raced around the room for a hiding place. She decided on the far corner, yet her legs wouldn’t move. Those wobbly legs. Why couldn’t she move? Her life might depend on it. She closed her eyes as tears spilled down her cheeks and hoped Danny returned before whoever broke in, either killed her or took her away.Danny, where are you?

“Moira, you here?” Danny’s voice traveled up the stairs to her third-floor haven and unfroze her mind and body.

As her legs buckled, she fell to the floor with a combination of relief and anger at him for almost giving her a heart attack. Or as she would say to her brother “putting the heart crossways in her.” She hoped her voice didn’t sound as frightened as she’d been. “Yes, just cleaning up.”

“Can I come up and see?”

She squeaked. In no way did she want him to see her like this. Like a scared little girl. “Nay, it’s a work in progress.” He understood that no one saw herealaínuntil it was complete.

Slipping inside her bedroom, she freshened up and waited until her body felt normal again.

The walk down the stairs with her hand gliding on the banister elicited a laugh from Danny. She narrowed her eyes at him but wasn’t upset. “What’s so funny?”

Sucking in a breath as he tried to calm his laughing enough to speak, he finally won the battle. “You. You looked like royalty gliding down the stairs. Did they teach you that at that prissy boarding school?”

They actually had taught them a great deal of comportment. Ignoring him and his “prissy” comment, she walked past him and peered into the refrigerator and groaned. She shut the door and turned to Danny; his eyebrows rose as if to laugh again. Ignoring the expression and his damp hair needing a comb, she asked, “Are you hungry?”

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