The Navy SEAL’s Holiday Fling: Ballybeg Bad Boys, Book 3 (2 page)

L
iam let
out a string of expletives. He’d hoped the bomb threat was a hoax, but the instant he’d laid eyes on The Ghost, he’d known it was no joke.

The crowd screamed as glass and debris rained down on them.

Beside him, Jill gasped and began to shake. “Oh my God. There really was a bomb.”

Liam closed the space between them and put his arms around her. She was so shocked by the explosion that she didn’t protest. He pulled her close and inhaled the familiar scent of her perfume. His heart skipped a beat. He’d missed this. He’d missed her. “You’re safe,” he whispered. “Everything will be all right.”

In the distance, sirens wailed, growing closer by the second.

Jill pushed back and stared at him, her beautiful dark eyes wide. “How did you know about the bomb?”

“Lucky guess.”

Her nostrils flared. “Bollocks. You’ll have to come up with a better explanation when the police question you.”

“I only discovered the Blush Shoppe launch party by chance,” he said hoarsely. “Like the emergency services, I was headed for the store.” He exhaled in a whoosh, shoving away images of what would have happened had he not spotted The Ghost going into the hotel.

Jill took another step back, adding distance between them. Her beautiful brow was creased in confusion, her eyes wide with fear. “Who are you? What happened to your French accent?”

Liam hesitated before extracting his wallet from his jacket pocket. He’d have to inform the police what he knew and there was no point in delaying the inevitable with Jill. He flipped his wallet open to reveal his ID and handed it to her.

She examined his identity card and then scrutinized his face. “Liam Ryan, securities operative. What does that mean?”

He placed a finger on her lips. “Not so loud. When I met you, I was working undercover.”

She thrust the wallet back at him and crossed her arms over her chest. “So you introduced yourself as Jean-Baptiste, French chef and intrepid sailor. You told me all about your little sister, your mother’s illness, and your dream of sailing around the world. Were all your stories blarney?”

“I told you the truth insofar as I could, but I left out a few facts.”

She snorted. “You don’t bloody say. You let me practice my halting school French on you. That must have given you a good laugh.”

Over her shoulder, he spotted police cars, ambulances, and a fire truck pulling up outside the hotel. “I’m sorry, Jill. I never wanted to hurt you. Let’s talk later, okay? I owe you an explanation, but the police have just arrived and I need to talk to them first.”

Her glare burned holes into his skin. “You do that, Mr. Ryan. And unless you’re planning to pay for it, you can give me back that dildo.”

Liam blinked and stared at the huge purple dildo he clutched in one hand. “Uh, sorry. Forgot I still had this.”

He handed the dildo to Jill with a grin, then turned and fought his way through the crowd. Some people were too stunned to speak. Others were crying. A few were covered in blood, presumably from the glass that had rained down on the crowd post-explosion. The firemen and women were tackling the blaze while the Emergency Response Unit guys conducted a search on the other floors of the building.

Liam recognized a couple of the Emergency Response Unit guys from the incident on Inish Glas a couple of weeks previously, including their commander, who was standing to the side, liaising with ambulance and fire personnel.

Liam jogged over to him. “Inspector Tobin.”

The red-haired man squinted at Liam. “Jaysus. If it isn’t the Navy SEAL from Inish Glas. What are you doing here?”

The two men pumped hands.

“I’m the person who called emergency services with the bomb alert.”

Inspector Tobin’s frowned. “That was you? How did you know there was a bomb in the hotel?”

“I didn’t know for sure until it detonated. Long story short, the guy who issued the bomb threats against Blush Shoppe is a terrorist who goes by the moniker of The Ghost. I encountered him during my time as a SEAL. I believe I’m the only person who’s ever seen his face. When my boss called me and ordered me to drive to Blush Shoppe, I got stuck in traffic along the quays. I witnessed a man who looked like The Ghost entering the Sheldon Hotel. I followed him, saw a sign advertising the Blush Shoppe launch party in a second-floor conference room, and put two and two together.”

“Your quick thinking saved lives,” Inspector Tobin said, running a hand over his balding scalp.

“I’m glad to have been of service, but I’m worried about what The Ghost might be planning next.”

“You have no idea where he went after he entered the hotel?”

Liam shook his head. “By the time I reached the lobby, he’d disappeared. My guess is he planted the bomb and got the hell out.”

“You searched for him?”

“My primary concern at that moment was evacuating the hotel.”

The policeman scratched his beard. “Will your boss be arranging a permit for you to work with us?”

“He’s already put the steps in motion.”

“I can give you emergency clearance in the meantime.”

Liam raised an eyebrow. “So quickly?”

Inspector Tobin’s expression turned grim. “Your boss told you about the bomb threats to five shops in five different cities?”

“Yeah.”

“The bombs were placed in buildings connected to Blush Shoppe, but not the retailers themselves. The Ghost’s bomb warning was a lie. He never meant to warn anyone. His goal was to kill innocent people, and he succeeded.”

Liam’s limbs turned to ice. “The other bombs detonated?”

The man nodded. “Blush Shoppe warehouses in Paris and Berlin exploded, as well as a delivery truck in Chicago, and a cargo plane carrying Blush Shoppe wares at Manchester Airport. The death toll worldwide is expected to exceed two hundred and fifty.”

Liam swore in English and in French.

“But thanks to you,” Inspector Tobin continued, “Cork’s casualties will be kept to a minimum.” The older man nodded to the hotel. “I’m waiting for confirmation from my team, but it looks like the hotel was fully evacuated before the blast.”

“I hope to God that’s true,” Liam said with feeling.

“We’re calling a meeting in an hour back at HQ. I’d like you to be there.”

“I’d be honored.”

The policeman slapped Liam on the back. “We’re grateful for your help. Sergeant Lally will drive you there in his car.”

Lally, a squat muscular man in his mid-thirties, inclined his short neck in acquiescence. “Want to head now?”

“Can you give me a sec? I’d like to say goodbye to someone.”

Lally nodded. “Sure. I’ll wait for you by the post box.”

“Thanks, pal.”

Liam maneuvered his way through the throng to where Jill stood with her friend, Olivia. Both women were shivering and wore blankets around their bare shoulders.

“Who knew I’d ever be grateful to a nun?” Olivia said through chattering teeth when he approached. “The nuns who run the homeless shelter on the quays provided blankets for those of us without coats, and hot drinks for everyone.”

Jill regarded him with an expression of pure granite. “You’re being hailed as a hero, Mr. Ryan.”

He ignored this and focused on her chocolate brown eyes. “I need to liaise with the Emergency Response Unit. We should be done in a few hours. Can I come by your house later? I’ll call you when I’m on my way.”

Jill jutted her jaw. “What do we have to talk about?”

“As you said earlier, I owe you an explanation. Let me give you one before you throw me out on my ass.”

Olivia quirked an eyebrow. “Oh, let him come over, Jill. I’m dying to know why a US Navy SEAL has been running around Ireland incognito.”

“I’m a former Navy SEAL,” Liam corrected. “My actions aren’t affiliated with the US military in any way.” Not
officially
affiliated with the US military, at any rate.

“A Navy SEAL, did you say?” asked a strident voice behind him. “The punters will love this. Did you really smash the alarm box with a dildo?”

When Liam whirled around to see who’d spoken, the flash of a camera blinded him. “No pictures,” he snarled. “If any photos of me appear in whatever paper you work for, you’ll have to answer to my boss.”

Cash had no jurisdiction in Ireland, and even less over the media, but a photo of Liam appearing on the news was the last thing he wanted. While Liam was the only person to have ever eyeballed The Ghost, the man had also seen him. He couldn’t run the risk of The Ghost recognizing him from a photo.

“Freedom of the press, Mr. Ryan.” The journalist smirked and backed into the crowd.

“Fuck.” Liam ran a hand through his tightly cropped hair. “He must have overheard you say my name. My boss will go apeshit if my photo is splashed all over the news.”

“Don’t blame me for your lies.”

“Jeez, Jill. I’m not blaming. It’s just…” He trailed off before he revealed classified information.

Jill treated him to an icy glare, her arms folded under her fabulous breasts. “Fine,” she said crisply. “I’m intrigued. Come by my cottage later. I deserve an explanation, and I expect it to be the truth.”

Liam inclined his head. “Okay. I’ll call you when my meeting is over.” On impulse, he leaned down and kissed her cheek, relishing the softness of her skin beneath his lips. “
À bientôt
,” he murmured.

Jill’s stern expression faltered, and her eyes clouded with an emotion he couldn’t decipher. “You are a prick, Liam Ryan. Now go and play hero. You might as well enjoy your moment of glory, because I intend to give you a right bollocking later.”

He winked at her, nodded to Olivia, and melted into the crowd.

B
y eleven o’clock that night
, Jill had cleaned and tidied her cottage and scrubbed the stone floors until they shone. She’d baked four batches of muffins that she’d never eat, reorganized the linen cupboard, and arranged her books in alphabetical order.

The cleaning frenzy was an effort to calm her nerves. It hadn’t worked. She held her hands in front of her face and watched them tremble. Hot tears stung her eyes. She forced air into her lungs and tried to stay calm.

On the drive back to Ballybeg, Olivia had switched on the radio. According to the news, over two hundred people were feared dead in four cities across the globe. That Cork wasn’t among them was only thanks to the mysterious Liam Ryan.

Jill slumped onto the floor and surrendered to the tears. She could have been killed. She
would
have been killed, along with everyone else at the Blush Shoppe launch party. Despite the lack of concrete information on the news report, the international retail business targeted had to be Blush Shoppe. But why? Why would anyone want to murder employees of a sex toy company? A religious fanatic? A lone nut with an aversion to vibrators?

Whatever the reason behind the attack, no one deserved to be murdered. Her heart broke at the thought of all those families left without their loved ones, of all the children whose holiday season would be forever tainted by the atrocity.

On the kitchen counter, her mobile phone began to vibrate. Jill struggled to her feet, grabbed the phone, and hit connect. “Hello.”

“Hey, Jill. It’s Liam. The meeting just finished. I should be at your place in around thirty minutes.”

“Okay,” she said in a voice thick from crying. “See you then.”

She rang off before he could respond. Whatever Liam had done to her last summer, he’d saved her life today. He’d saved everyone in the conference room. Jill was no bomb expert, but even she could tell an explosion of that magnitude would have left few or no survivors.

She finished mopping the floor and jumped in the shower. She stood motionless in the small cubicle and allowed the hot needles to massage her skin.
Damn the man.
Jill dumped shampoo onto her hair and lathered it vigorously. Why did he, of all men, possess the power to make her blood hum? He was a liar and a fraud. He’d used and discarded her without a word of explanation. And yet he’d saved her life this evening.

Why had she agreed to talk to him? Curiosity? While she was dying to know why he’d been masquerading as a French chef, she was furious with herself for wanting to spend time with the man.

Because that was the real reason she’d agreed to see him this evening. Since his pump-and-dump stunt over the summer, he’d been on her mind far more frequently than she cared to admit. Their fling had meant something to her. He was the first man to make her feel alive, to truly bring her pleasure in bed. She’d always wondered why her friends made such a big deal about sex when she found it ho-hum at best. The first night with Jean-Baptiste—Liam, she supposed she should call him—she’d finally understood what the fuss was all about. Her cheeks burned at the memories, and her heart rate kicked up a notch. He’d shown her how much fun sex could be and had proven once and for all that her ex-boyfriend had been wrong: she wasn’t frigid or disinterested in sex…if she was with the right man.

Fifteen minutes later, she was clean and dressed and ready to face her visitor—more or less.

When the bell chimed, she adjusted the skirt of her corduroy dress and wrenched open the door, determined to treat him with cool reserve. Her resolve melted the instant she laid eyes on him.

Liam wore casual blue jeans and an open-necked shirt, revealing a hint of the intricate Celtic tattoo that circled his neck. His gaze roamed over her body, sending a searing heat up her cheeks and down to parts of her anatomy that really should know better.

“You’re beautiful,” he said in his low, husky voice, tinged with an American rather than a French accent.

Jill narrowed her eyes and stepped to the side to let him enter. “Don’t try to flatter me.”

A slow-burn smile spread across his handsome face. “No flattery needed. I speak the truth.”

“That must be a novelty.”

His smile faded and his expression grew serious. “I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you the truth. I shouldn’t have started dating you, but I was lonely and—”

“And I was willing and available,” she finished for him.

“That’s not what I was going to say.” He pulled a bottle of red wine from inside his jacket. “Want a glass of vino while we talk?”

She opened her mouth to refuse but then caught sight of the label. It was a Californian Cabernet Sauvignon made by one her favorite wineries. He’d remembered her preference. Her treacherous heart beat faster.

“Okay,” she said. “A glass of wine, an explanation, and then you leave.”

“To use the beloved Irish phrase, fair enough.” He was grinning now, drawing attention to the adorable dimples in his cheeks. Infuriating man. Was her urge to slap him or to kiss him stronger? It was hard to tell.

“Take a seat while I open the wine,” she said and gestured toward the living room.

Her mother had renovated the cottage when she’d bought it a couple of years previously as an investment property. The original idea had been to lease it to holidaymakers looking for a quieter location than the center of town, but when Jill moved back to Ballybeg after a year in Dublin, her mother gave her the lease at a bargain rate in return for the cottage’s upkeep.

During the renovations, the wall dividing the two rooms downstairs had been knocked down to form one large room. The door to the kitchen had been removed, and a cute little archway now divided the kitchen from the open plan living area, giving Jill a perfect view of Liam.

While she uncorked the wine bottle and fetched glasses, she watched him out of the corner of her eye. He was more handsome without the bushy eyebrows and beard, although she missed his tousled shoulder-length hair. His new look didn’t dim his sex appeal. Far from it. The grumpy slouch she’d associated with Jean-Baptiste was gone. This man moved with the lithe stealth of a skilled predator.

She carried the glasses into the living room and handed him one. When his fingers brushed against hers, she drew in a sharp breath and prayed for self-control.

“
Sláinte
,” he said, taking her off guard. She clinked glasses on reflex.

While Jill took a seat on the sofa, Liam stayed upright, pacing in front of the window like an impatient panther. “Okay,” he said in a husky tone that sent an electric awareness shooting through her veins. “Let me preface this by saying that I never meant to hurt you. I fucked up big time, but not for the reasons you think.”

She raised an eyebrow. “And what do I think?”

“That I used you for sex and disappeared, rather than break up with you properly.”

“A-plus for astuteness,” she drawled, swirling the wine in her glass. “I understand the undercover part…sort of. But why turn on the charm only to bolt a couple of months later? If you weren’t interested in seeing me anymore, all you had to do was tell me. How would that have compromised your undercover operation?”

Liam ran a hand over his short hair. “Here’s what happened. I work for a private security firm. We fix…situations…that government agencies can’t be seen to involve themselves in.”

“Black ops,” Jill supplied in an icy tone.

He grimaced but didn’t deny her assertion. “I was sent to Inish Glas to track down and trap the leader of an international human trafficking gang. We knew they’d been active on Inish Glas before Darko Dunne moved out there, and we figured the gang was using another small island in that section of the Celtic Sea to trade sex slaves kidnapped on the Ivory Coast. I spent my weekends sailing around the islands, checking for signs of illegal activity.”

“Did you catch the gang leader?”

He nodded. “Eventually, but not under the circumstances I expected. The operation is classified, and that’s really all I can tell you.”

Jill crossed her arms over her breasts. “Was it on one of those weekend jaunts that you decided to cut ties with me?”

Liam shook his head. “Totally different scenario. Back in July, I got word that my little sister, Katy, was in Ballybeg as part of a diving expedition. I couldn’t risk running into her and having her blow my cover. At the time, she thought I was still in the Navy.”

Jill frowned. “Wait…was that the dive down to the wreck of the
Lusitania
?”

“That’s the one. My sister’s an underwater archaeologist. Before going into academia, she was in the Navy.”

“You both went into the military?” Jill frowned. “How did your parents feel about that?”

“I neither know nor care what my dad thinks. I haven’t seen him since I was a kid. As for Mom, she was okay with it. The Navy paid for our college education and gave us opportunities we’d never have had if we’d stayed civilians. The US military isn’t perfect, but I have no regrets about my years serving Uncle Sam.”

“Where did you learn to speak French? You did that quite convincingly.” Jill failed to hide the note of asperity in her voice. “So much so that you ‘helped’ me improve my skills.”

“That wasn’t fake. I speak French like a native. My mother is from France, and I grew up bilingual. She also taught me to cook. Anyway, I stayed on the island until I was sure Katy had left Ballybeg. We had no telephone or Internet access on Inish Glas at that time, and I couldn’t call you on the satellite phone my boss had given me.”

Jill exhaled sharply. “You have a neat explanation for everything.”

“What more can I say? I needed to avoid Ballybeg while Katy was here. I knew she’d see past the beard and fake eyebrows. I couldn’t risk her blowing my cover. I came to see you the moment I heard she’d left.”

“And I slapped you across the face in front of everyone in McCarthy’s pub.”

“Yeah, you did,” Liam said with a bark of laughter. “It hurt.”

A glint of humor sparkled in her dark eyes. “Good. You still should have called me.”

“I know. I should have cleared it with Cash—my boss—or found some other way to contact you.” He stopped pacing and looked her straight in the eye, pinning her in place with the intensity of his stare. “I’m flying back to the States right after this case wraps up—or I hand it over to someone else. Where do we go from here?”

“
We
go nowhere. If you’re leaving the country, I see no point in rekindling…whatever it was we had.”

That slow-burn smile again. Her tummy performed an acrobatic flip. “What we had was a good time and great sex.”

Her heart beat faster. “Are you trying to seduce me?”

“Not really.” He grinned. “Well, maybe just a little.”

She laughed in spite of herself. “There are a lot of modifiers in that sentence.”

“Okay. You’re sexy, funny, and I like being around you. But you’ve had a hell of a shock today, and I don’t want to take advantage of the situation.”

Her lips twitched. “Not willing to take advantage of the fact that you saved my life?”

His face turned grave. “No, Jill. That was pure dumb luck, not skill. I was in the right place at the right time.”

“Thank goodness you were,” she said in a solemn tone.

He sat beside her and took her hand in his. The sensation of his skin against hers made her blood hum. “I’m sorry I hurt you, Jill. After the night in the pub, I should have tried to talk to you again.”

“You did try. I ignored your letter.”

“I should have tried harder.”

“What would you have said? The truth? Or a lie to make yourself feel better?”

He had the good grace to flush. “I wouldn’t have told you I was working undercover. My mission wasn’t yet over.”

She removed her hand from his. “See? You’d have fobbed me off with yet another lie.”

He sighed. “I had a job to do, and that job required me to play a role. For what it’s worth, I was always
me
when we were together, despite the different name and accent. What we had was real. Maybe that’s why I didn’t make more of an effort when you didn’t respond to my letter. Forming an attachment while undercover wasn’t a smart move.”

She gave a low laugh. “And what do you define as an ‘attachment?’”

“Feelings. Emotions. What we had wasn’t just sex.”

She took a sip of the wine and absorbed his words. Did she believe him? The undercover story was outlandish, but the head policeman at the bomb scene treated him like an old friend. “The police took a brief statement from me and Olivia before we were allowed to go home. I couldn’t tell them anything. I’m the manager of Blush Shoppe’s Cork store, and we didn’t receive any threats.”

“Rebecca Sampson, Blush Shoppe’s founder and CEO, received an email around an hour before the Paris bomb detonated,” Liam said. “The sender is a known morality terrorist who goes by the name The Ghost. He said Blush Shoppe stores in five cities would be targeted. Rebecca contacted the authorities as soon as she read the email, and they got in touch with my boss.”

“What on earth is a morality terrorist?”

“The Ghost refers to himself as a moral judge. He targets people working in the sex industry, and those who pay for their services or avail of their products.”

Jill shuddered. “That’s crazy.”

“Totally.”

Jill fell silent for a minute, sipping her wine and mulling over what he’d told her. The entire scenario was preposterous, but the bomb had been very real. She turned to him and noted the chiseled jaw that had been less apparent when he’d worn a beard. “Is there anything else I should know about Liam Ryan, Man of Mystery?”

A shy smile suffused his face. He took out his phone and showed her his screensaver. “This is my daughter, Meggie.” The photo was of a sweet little girl of four or five holding a black puppy. She had her father’s dimples and dark eyes, but her hair was a rich auburn.

“She’s adorable.”

“She’s the best,” he said with a beam.

“Where’s her mother? I’m assuming you’re no longer together.”

“We’re divorced. Karen left me for an investment banker with an apartment overlooking Central Park and a holiday home in the Hamptons.”