Page 20 of Dublin Debacle

“I want to know what’s happening to my father, my uncle and what could impact me and my brother.” She paused. “Speaking of my brother… I need to go see him tomorrow. My uncle asked me to warn him. About what, I don’t know. I hope Finn does.”

“We can leave as soon as the protector the boss sent arrives to take over.” Jack yawned. “In the meantime, get some rest.”

“Are you sure you can sleep on the hard floor?” Emily asked.

The hardwood flooring was very unforgiving, but Jack would make do. “I’m perfectly fine. Sleep.”

As silence descended, Jack’s gaze sought the shadowy form of Emily lying on the sofa. He couldn’t see if her eyes were open or closed, nor could he hear the sound of her breathing to gauge whether or not she was asleep.

When he’d sat across the bar from where she worked steadily and efficiently to serve orders, he’d admired her take-charge attitude and the way she handled her customers with grace and snark. That she’d thrown herself into saving her uncle and staying with him until she was certain he would be all right elevated her in Jack’s regard.

That she had beautiful golden-blond hair, gray-blue eyes and a petite but curvy figure was a bonus. She reminded him a little of the pretty little staff sergeant he’d met and fallen in love with in Afghanistan.

Laura hadn’t had blond hair or gray-blue eyes. In fact, she’d been brunette with eyes the color of root beer. But she’d been just as confident and capable of dealing with demanding males.

Jack liked a woman who didn’t back down, who could hold her own in a male-dominated environment. But what he’d learned with Laura would forever color his decisions on relationships with the opposite sex. He’d learned to hold back from giving his heart.

Jack had given his whole heart to Laura. They’d snuck kisses behind their tents and found ways to be alone, knowing that fraternization during a deployment was strictly forbidden.

That hadn’t mattered to Jack and Laura. They’d discovered each other in one of the most hostile and dangerous environments and found ways to be together despite the rules and fear of discovery. Jack suspected the risk of getting caught had added to the excitement. They’d been young, impetuous and crazy in love.

His missions with the US Army Rangers had led him into treacherous Taliban territory, where his chances of getting killed had been high. Yet, he’d returned from each mission to her arms.

As Laura’s deployment had neared its end, they’d promised to see each other when they were both Stateside again. They’d write letters and make video calls to stay in touch.

The week before Laura had been due to ship out, she’d been a driver on a convoy to deliver supplies to an orphanage when her truck rolled over an improvised explosive device.

Jack had been out on a mission at the time. The mission had taken longer than anticipated. When his team had returned two days later, Jack had dropped all his gear and hurried to Laura’s tent, only to find people inventorying and packing her belongings.

For days, he’d walked around in a haze. If not for his teammates and their work eliminating Taliban terrorists, Jack didn’t know how he would have survived. He’d channeled all his anger into the missions, taking point every time, half-wishing he’d die and end the pain of his grief.

Since then, he’d sworn off love. Yeah, he dated, but never for long. He’d learned that love hurt too much. He was better off alone. He had his buddies to hang out with when he was tired of his own company. If he ever settled in one place, he might get a dog. He had yet to find that one place that made him want to stay.

Emily stirred, rolled to her back and lay her arm over her forehead, nothing more than a silhouette in the darkness. Yet, her very presence roused Jack’s protective instincts. He’d agreed to let her help in his investigation because she had contacts with the locals that he’d need to dig deeper and find the person or people who were pushing the propaganda with the call to violence. More than her help with the locals, by working with her, he could stay close enough to keep an eye on her in case the men who’d tried to abduct her came back.

He reminded himself that he was on a mission. Though he was attracted to the fiery Irishwoman, he would soon be moving on.

Jack rolled to his back and focused on the light fixture in the center of the ceiling, shoving the desire to keep staring in Emily’s direction to the back of his mind. He’d spent years hardening his heart to avoid pain. He wouldn’t let a petite pub owner breach his defenses.

As he slipped into restless slumber, the devil on his shoulder whispered,

My friend, you’re too late.

CHAPTER5

Jack wishedhe’d stayed awake throughout the night rather than endure a fitful sleep, filled with flashbacks of an empty tent with a box of personal effects positioned on an army cot. He’d recognized that tent, the box and effects as all that had been left of a once-blossoming love, now lost to a senseless war.

An overwhelming feeling of loss had pressed on his chest with the weight of a bull elephant, making it so hard to breathe. He’d told his dream self it was a nightmare and the only way to escape was to wake.

In the gray light of predawn, he sat up, stiff from lying on the hardwood floor, but ready to shake off the memories and get on with the day and life in general. He hadn’t had that dream for years. Why now?

As he pushed to his feet, his gaze swept across Emily, curled on her side, her hand tucked beneath her cheek and her forehead smooth of the worry from the night before. Her chin had a light purple bruise and mild road burn where it must have hit the pavement when her attacker had landed on top of her.

Jack’s fists clenched, and anger pushed through his veins. He wished he could have slammed the bastard on the ground like he’d done Emily. He deserved to feel as helpless as she must have felt, crushed beneath his body that weighed more than twice hers.

Quietly, he gathered the blanket and pillow, carried them down the hallway and folded and placed them in the closet where they’d found them. Then he went in search of coffee.

He had a pot brewing when Dr. Kelly padded into the kitchen, her dark hair in disarray as if she’d just tumbled out of bed. “Oh, good,” she murmured softly. “Coffee.” She pulled mugs out of a cabinet and set them on the counter. “Mr. O’Brien is sleeping peacefully. Steady heartbeat, breathing is normal, and no other signs of distress.”

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