Page 98 of Illicit Temptation

We pass the main gate after our car is inspected. Lachlan discloses we’re armed, and we’re told we’ll have to surrender our weapons at the front entrance.

My fingers itch to hold Shea’s hand. She looks utterly terrified. This place houses the worst of the worst. Prisoners of a sensitive nature the Irish government doesn’t trust to the public prison system. Cruel cartel lords who dump their traitors for punishment. It’s no longer a place to teach unruly young gangsters a lesson in pain and submission.

As far as I’m concerned, Cormac didn’t deserve to be here. A punishment he accepted with grace. But it’s not the same place Lachlan was banished to teach him discipline and how to be a heartless killing machine.

A few yards from the gate, Lachlan collects our weapons. Sighing, I hand mine over.

Inside, I take hold of Shea’s hand, not caring who sees. Lachlan immediately notices, but I nod to him, signaling it’s to keep her close to me without carrying her over my shoulder. Does he notice how easily she accepts my hand? His nod of approval only slightly relaxes me.

We walk through a tunnel and into an empty waiting room. It’s the middle of the day, and I wonder if the place was cleared out just for Cormac and the family. We’re given a table, and Shea’s sweaty palm loosens from mine.

One painful hour passes while we wait. Lachlan and Darragh go into an office to ask what’s the hold-up. I almost wish I could be there to watch someone tell Lachlan O’Rourke to sit the fuck down. One guard initially shrugs while the other does a comical doubletake at Darragh, who’s Cormac’s identical twin. Even with all the ink Cormac etched into his neck and arms, they’re unmistakable as brothers.

Finally, one of the guards makes a call, lifting an old-school black lacquer phone handset to his ear. The way Lachlan’s hands ball into fists when the guard speaks into the phone and Darragh dumps his head into his hand, I know something is wrong. They come out moments later and Lachlan looks ready to murder someone.

At least I know this time, it won’t be me.

“What’s wrong?” Shea asks.

Lachlan tosses me a furious glower. He didn’t want her here. But hey... I’m just a Quinlan bodyguard. I make no decisions. But that doesn’t mean I can’t help make matters better.

“Shall I bring her back to the car, boss?” I say to Lachlan.

“No,” Shea blurts. “What’s going on?”

Lachlan growls, “The warden insists on bringing out Cormac himself.”

Along one cinderblock wall, casement windows stretch out the entire length. I swear, it’s like it happens in slow motion. Just the shape of the shadow that creeps along the wall opposite the windows confirms my absolute worst nightmare.

Broad shoulders, thick neck, buzz cut on a bulky skull, sculpted cheekbones, and a sinister grin.

Faolan Malone. My old commander.

The man who tried to kill me is now the warden of Dunbar Valley.

CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

Shea

Abehemoth of a man struts into the waiting room. My brothers are all tall, broad, and deadly, but this guy...

While his size utterly terrifies me, the man has the face of a god. But it’s all sharp, harsh lines. He wears a uniform similar to the guards Lachlan and Darragh met with earlier, only it’s nicer. The fabric looks rich and not faded.

“Who is that?” I whisper to Darragh.

“The warden,” he answers.

The man makes eye contact with me and it’s a soul-stroking stare like he... Like he owns me. Like he knew I’d be here. This really is the last place on earth I should be. I haven’t even seen another woman. Although, I’m sure between the medical staff and other administrators, there has to be other females.

Yet, I feel like the only one within these dirty cinderblock walls.

The warden wisely takes his scandalous eyes off me, but they land on Trace, whose jugular visibly pulses. With someone outside our circle among us, I know not to ask questions. I sit up straight, looking unaffected by this horror show of a prison run by a man who looks as if he’s hiding plenty of his own sins.

Cormac, wearing a blueish-gray jumpsuit that makes his face appear shadowed, is brought in a moment later and deposited into the warden’s authority.

Lachlan stands up and shakes the warden’s hand. A growl slips from Trace’s chest. I hop up from the table, wanting to hug Cormac, but I’m snapped back by Trace.

“Ouch,” I say, my arm feeling like it got yanked out of the socket.

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