Page 33 of Blood in the Water

He clenched his jaw. “I disagree, but it might be a moot point anyway.” Will likely wouldn’t stay, not if it meant leaving Nolan vulnerable when he went back. “Which iswhy I’m going to teach you to shoot tomorrow before I leave, just in case.”

“You got the gun?”

“I got it. I hate the thought of you having to use it, but I hate the thought of you needing it and not having it more.”

She stood on tiptoe and kissed him. “We’ll be fine. The gun is just a precaution.”

He wished he was as sure.

18

Bridget tucked her chin into her coat as they left the house early the next morning. Her mother had been up starting coffee and breakfast while Will kept up a steady stream of friendly chatter and Maurice, the nurse Nolan had hired for Owen, helped get Owen ready for the day.

Bridget had had to force her mom to stay in the kitchen and let Maurice do his job. Taking care of Owen 24/7 had become the default for her mother, but there was no reason in the world why she shouldn’t take advantage of the break, however it had come about.

Her mom had tried to argue that she’d always been the one to take care of Owen until Bridget pointed out that it was possible Owen was more comfortable with Maurice — a strapping man in his late twenties with dark skin and warm, humor-filled eyes — tending to his personal needs than his mother. Owen had preferred their mom over Bridget, but maybe that was because there hadn’t been any other choices.

“You warm enough?” Nolan asked as they strapped into the dune buggy he’d pulled out of the garage.

“I’m fine.” She looked around at the steel frame that crisscrossed around them and above their heads. “Where did this come from?”

“I don’t know actually. It’s been here as long as I can remember. It’s the only way to get around the island other than a golf cart, and that won’t work in this weather.”

She looked up at the gray sky and took in the snow that blanketed the ground. “Dune buggy it is.”

He turned the key and it started with a rumble. He looked at her with a grin. “Hang on.”

The vehicle lurched forward, picking up a surprising amount of speed in the first few seconds. Laughter bubbled from her throat, the thrill of speed and the cold air against her face releasing some of the anxiety she’d been carrying around for the last twenty-four hours.

They bounced and bumped over the ground, the ocean almost always visible on one side as they got farther away from the house. By the time Nolan slowed down, Bridget felt markedly lighter, her cheeks tingling with cold.

“This should do it,” Nolan said when he’d turned off the engine.

She struggled with the five-point harness, and he leaned over to help, his nearness causing her pulse to jump with lust.

He’d insisted on sleeping in a separate room, not wanting her parents to feel like allowing Nolan to help them meant he was entitled to take liberties with their daughter. Bridget had spent the night in alternating states of worry and arousal: the people she cared most about under threat from Seamus, the relief she would find in Nolan’s arms close enough to be agonizing.

Her mind appreciated the gentlemanly gesture, but her body didn’t feel the same way. It just wanted him inside her.

“There you go,” he said, turning his face to kiss her.

She slipped her tongue in his mouth and touched his face with her gloved hands.

He groaned and pulled away. “You’re a tempting little vixen, Bridget Monaghan.” He got out of the car. “Now come on before I forget why we’re here.”

She stepped out of the car and adjusted the knit cap covering her head while Nolan removed a gun from the duffel bag he’d brought along. He looked around, his gaze settling on a stand of trees at the edge of the snow-covered meadow where they’d stopped.

“There.”

She walked beside him, their feet sinking into the snow as they headed for the trees. When they were ten feet away, he stopped and turned to her.

“You sure about this?”

She looked down at the gun in his hand. She’d never been a proponent of guns. In theory, it made sense that people might want to protect themselves. In practice, it seemed dangerous to have a deadly weapon around, the paradox of safety versus accessibility unsolvable.

But she’d never been a target for a mobster either. Had never been holed up on an island, planning escape routes for her family, for her brother who was in a wheelchair.

“I’m sure.”

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