Page 38 of Desired

“If I have my way about it, there will never be a night like that for you, ever again, so long as I’m around.” His eyes are warm, but then they start dancing again. “Too cheesy? Did that sound like a line?”

“Well, it would, if you weren’t still inside me, Declan.” I tease.

“Oh, right.” He corrects, helping me lift off him, carefully.

We adjust our clothes and I put my fresh panties on and snuggle in the leather chairs. “Sleep, lass. It’s a long flight, and you need your rest.” He says, reading my mind.

“Thanks.” I murmur to him as he kisses my head.

“It’s my pleasure, love.”

I lift my head and kiss his lips, searching his eyes, and I’m certain of it.

...Declan Harris loves me.

...and I love him, too.

...with all my heart.

Chapter 13

Declan

Withironcladnerves,Ihold Moira’s hand, as we enter the correctional facility. By the sweat on her palm, I can tell that she’s a bundle of nerves. She announces her arrival and we’re led into a room with a plexiglass wall between two small pods and a phone hanging on either side of the glass. Moira sits in the chair and her face turns pale. “Do you want me to stay?” I ask her respectfully, even though I have zero intention of leaving her here alone with this man.

“Of course.” She says kindly, but with a tone that tells me it’s a ridiculous question. I suppose bringing her all this way, only to tell me to sit outside, would be perceived as unfair to some.

When James McTavish enters the room, I’m surprised to see that he’s not handcuffed in front. Rather, other than his bright yellow romper, he’s as free as a bird, which makes me wonder if this adds clout to his story. Certainly, they wouldn’t restrain a dying man. He sees Moira and his face lights up like a goddamn Christmas tree. As I watch her expression turn from nervous to something unreadable, I rise with her. Adding salt to the wound, he rests his hand on the glass, as though to touch her, making my stomach turn.

He picks up the receiver on his side and Moira mirrors him on her side. “Da....h....how are you?” She asks, voice quivering. Then she shakes her head, as though she’s forgotten that he’s sick.

The plexiglass isn’t exactly soundproof, and us Harris boys have learned over the years, how to read lips to an extent. Connor taught me how to do it, so that I can tell if someone’s pulling the wool over my eyes or not. I see him mouth, ‘I’ve been better.’ But he leaves it at that. It takes everything in me not to confess right there that this man is a fraud, and as healthy as I am. But I know that it’s not my place, nor is it the time, since Moira needs to do this herself. I’m just here for window dressing and for protection, if needed. She digests that comment for a moment, before he takes a seat, I’m guessing to plead his case, that he’s too weak to stand.

James looks lank and disheveled, but not ill by any means, to me. To a trained eye like Moira’s, I would think that he looks slightly undernourished, and a little pale, but I have no idea what the man looked like prior to his incarceration. She’s about to say something, when he cuts her off. My eyes are trained on the son of a bitch’s lips. “Richard is dead, Moira. And I don’t want to die behind bars. I’d like to get out of here while I still have time.”

I watch her neck crane slightly, and her eyes widen. “Wh...how...what happened?” She stammers.

“I don’t know the details. I heard from my lawyer that the asshole died. The lawyer is useless, but at least he knew that much.” He licks his lips and I can tell that he’s measuring his words. “So, I’d like for you to give testimony. I’d like to be free of this place for the short time that I have left, Moira. I don’t think that that’s too much to ask.”

I want to jump right in there and strangle the bastard, but instead, I send a text message to Connor, asking him to corroborate. If I know him well enough, he’ll have figured out anyone that the man has been in touch with since he could speak. Connor is that good. Always ready with the answers before the questions are even asked.

“I don’t know, da.” Moira answers honestly.

“Moira.” James begs. “The doctors say that I have about six weeks. Maybe more, maybe less. I’d love to spend that with you and your brothers. Not here. I’ve been here long enough, and my lawyer is as daft as a sheet of paper, nor can I afford a better one. Your brothers won’t help me. You’re my only hope.”

A moment later, as Moira fights tears, my phone beeps. Connor has responded, ‘Car accident. Dead. Three weeks ago.’ And it all makes sense. The man knew that he could get off but he knew that Moira wouldn’t fall for it unless he was dying. So he cooked up the story.

“I want out of here, Moira. And time is running out.” He repeats.

I touch her arm. She looks at me like she’s crawled out of her own skin and into something sinister, where she’s in a world not her own and she’s as lost as a puppy. “Da, this is Declan. Declan Harris.”

He looks at me strangely. It’s a look that I can’t decipher. But if I had to guess, I’d say it’s like he already knew who I was, and he’s trying to pull off that he didn’t. Slick bastard. All the same, I nod to him, acknowledging the introduction. I see him mouth that he wants to talk to me. Moira hands me the phone and explains as much. I paste on an impassive face, even though my insides are churning.

“Declan. It’s nice to meet you.” He says, but I feel like he wanted to add the word ‘finally’. The hair on the back of my neck stands up, and I fight the urge to lift my lip and growl at him. Instead, I don’t respond, I simply wait for him to utter whatever lie he has cooked up for me. “My daughter means the world to me. I’d love to see her outside of these bars, and I look forward to meeting you in the same regard.”

I manage a nod but nothing else. I try to act like I’m simply being polite, like a good little boyfriend, but my jaw muscles are locked, and my teeth are grinding against each other.

“Ah, well, you can pass me back to Moira, if you please.” He says, and I’m not sure if he’s just playing along, or if he senses that I’m onto him. Either way the message has been sent. I’m not here for the dog and pony show like Moira is. I do as I’m told and hand the phone back to her. She looks worried. I place a hand on her back but give nothing away with my facial expression. I don’t want this asshole to read anything into my actions. I’m giving him nothing.

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