Page 4 of Dublin Charmer
Nothing wrong with that.
I shift to rest my hands politely on her hips as she leans in closer. “When I asked when you became a man, I meant you grew up nice. This whole James Bond look suits you.”
Her approval is welcome, and so is the appraising gaze she’s searing me with. “Women love a man in a tux.”
Her fingers trace the lapel of my jacket, and she bites her bottom lip. “I bet you’d look even better without it.”
The music fades into background noise.
The party, my brothers, the business—everything disappears except for Ginny’s lust-filled gaze locked on mine. Her comment hangs between us, and my cock stiffens at the possibility of where the night is headed.
“Do you want to find out?” The words are out of my mouth before I can reconsider.
She dips her chin. “Lead the way, Dublin Charmer.”
I turn her toward the corridor, guiding her through the crowd with a hand on the small of her back. We slip past a group of guests, past the Devils serving as security for the event, and up the grand staircase.
Kieran—Sean’s Sergeant at Arms—raises an eyebrow but says nothing, pretending not to notice.
The sound of the party dulls as the second-floor hallway stretches before us, lined with doors to guest bedrooms. Tag assigned us each a room to get dressed in or, if we should decide to stay, to use for the night.
“Which one’s yours?” Ginny whispers, her fingers intertwined with mine.
I pull her through the third door on the right.
The door clicks shut behind us, and suddenly we are alone in the darkness. The only light to guide us toward the historic framed bed comes from the moon glowing past heavy brocade drapery.
Ginny’s hand finds my face in the dim light. “Now, about that tuxedo...”
CHAPTER TWO
Nyx
Awall of password iterations scroll up my screen as I hit another Quinn Industries security protocol. Their chief technical officer is good—impressively good, really—but tonight is my best chance. The Quinn tech team will be distracted by the fancy party at Clontarf Castle, so while the cats are away…my little mouse can play.
My fingers dance over my keyboard, theclick-click-clackof keys filling the cozy space of my mobile command center. Four curved monitors dominate my workspace, showing different feeds: security camera footage from the Quinn compound, another showing the Q brothers hosting a fancy party across town, one is filled with system diagnostics and my infiltration progress and the fourth, as always, is locked on a dingy cell that alludes me no matter how hard I try to find it.
“Come on, come on.” The progress bar of my breach program is barely inching forward. The Quinns might be off celebrating, but their security system has layers upon layers of firewalls and coding to keep people out.
It’s nothing I hadn’t expected from a mafia family, but I’ve spent hours preparing for this moment. My heart races as I continue to probe their firewalls for weaknesses. My adrenaline is pumping.
This is my drug of choice…the challenge, the high of getting into places people have worked to keep others out of.
A message pings on my phone, and I glance over to see a happy face emoji with a knife in its skull. Beside it is the contact name,Dead Man Walking.
Billy Gravely.
I pick up my phone and tap in my digits to open things up. His text is sitting there, judging me. Can a text be judgy? Feels like it.
Status update?
My jaw clenches. I hate the bastard.
On schedule. Your team has arrived and is clear to move at 22:00.
I run a finger over the grainy video feed on the fourth screen—my brother, Gio, is curled up on a flimsy cot in the corner of a concrete cell. The timestamp shows it is live, but I’m not so sure. If it’s live, why can’t I find where the feed is coming from? Why can’t I find my brother?
My throat tightens as I touch his face where it’s visible on the screen. “I’m coming for you,fratellino. Just hold on.”
