EDGE OF HONOR: On The Edge Duet: Book One Page 9

  “You think Nash is behind everything?”

  “I’m not saying that, but I don’t think we should be ruling anyone out at this point. Not until we have some information.”

  “When is that going to happen? And how will we find anything out if we don’t even have a way to ask anyone without tipping them off to our whereabouts?”

  “Mikey’s going to contact me when he finds something useful.”

  “And if he doesn’t?”

  “Then we’re probably fucked.”

  “Probably?”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Georgia

  Leaning my elbow on the table separating us, I cup my chin and stare across at Belfast from under the brim of the baseball cap shading my face. “I know we have to be on guard twenty-four seven, but now that we’ve put some distance between us and them, can we sit here and have a normal meal? I just want to have a relaxing dinner. I’m sick of heartburn and anxiety.”

  “You don’t strike me as the anxious type,” he states.

  “I’m not usually, but this is hardly a typical situation for me.”

  “How’d you sleep last night?”

  “Really?” I scoff. “That’s the best conversation you can offer?”

  “I’m only asking because you sounded restless.”

  “Oh. Sorry.” My lips tighten in a grimace. “Yeah, I was. With all the sitting around yesterday and everything on my mind, sleep was hard to come and it wasn’t solid. Which sucks because it was the first night I spent in a bed in two days. But I guess that’s to be expected. After all, I’ve never been on the run like a fugitive from justice before.”

  He lets out a bark of laughter. “This is true. Your adrenaline is rushing, though, isn’t it? Admit it.”

  “Is that what you call it?” I roll my eyes. To me it feels more like teetering on the edge of a breakdown.

  Belfast picks up the glass of water, pausing with it halfway to his mouth. “You’ve never told me if you have any siblings.” He drinks deeply, the muscles in his throat flexing attractively. Wrenching my gaze from him, I scan the inside of the Waffle House, checking out the other customers before my eyes land on him once more.

  “I have an older brother and a younger sister.”

  “Middle child, eh?” He quirks a brow.

  “Yep.”

  “That explains a lot.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “I’ve heard the second child is always the daredevil. They’re the ones who are the thrill seekers.”

  “Is that how you see me?”

  “Well, luv, you don’t work for the FBI if you’re not willing to tempt fate on a daily basis.” His words are unexpectedly enlightening. I don't think about my mortality much. If I did, it would make me cautious when I can't afford to be. But I've always been a risk taker, so there might be some truth to what he said.

  My shoulders twitch in a quick shrug. “I’ve never looked at it that way. Working for the FBI has always been my plan since I was a teenager. For me, there was no other option. What about you?” I point my chin at him. “Any siblings?”

  “No, it was just me.”

  “Oh, I see. The spoiled only child.”

  He chuckles. “No one who grew up in the neighborhood I did had the luxury of being spoiled.”

  I want to know more about his life in Ireland, but that can wait for another time. Belfast isn’t the type to answer too many questions at once, and I’d rather keep the mood lighter.

  “Did you always want to be a criminal mastermind?”

  A grin slowly spreads across his face. “I never knew you thought so highly of me.”

  “I don’t know if I’d qualify being a criminal mastermind as a positive.”

  “Well, in my world it is. And a mastermind by definition is someone with outstanding intellect.” He nods, tapping his head. “So, basically you’re calling me a genius.”

  I snort. “I love your innate talent for spinning a negative into a positive.”

  “Wow, Georgie. Now you’re saying I’m talented. Watch out, or I’ll think you’re in love with me.”

  I release a quick laugh. “Oh shoot. You weren’t supposed to find out.”

  He winks. “It’s nothing I didn’t already know.”

  “Are your parents still in Ireland?”

  “My parents died long ago. Haven’t you read my file forwards and backwards by now?”

  I slowly tick my head from side to side. “I haven’t. Does that disappoint you?”

  “Maybe a little.”

  My lips curve into a small smile. “Did you have visions of me devouring every bit of info I could find on you, like some obsessed stalker?”

  “No, Georgia, those aren’t the kinds of visions I’ve had about you.” He smirks and leans forward. “Speaking of devouring, would you like me to share some of the details with you?”

  I swallow past the instant tightening in my throat and try to dismiss the surge of longing in my lower stomach. “No, that’s not necessary.”

  The waitress appears, distracting Belfast from his careful observation of me. I drag a ragged breath into my lungs. Calm down. I’m sure he doesn’t have visions of me at all. He’s just messing around to get a rise out of me.

  Once our plates are in front of us, the waitress takes her leave, and we’re alone once again. Focusing on my food, I keep my eyes on my egg sandwich as I scoop the greasy mess from my plate. I take the first bite and my eyes drift shut as I barely hold in a pleasure filled groan. I didn’t realize how hungry I was.

  “It’s good?”

  My lids raise at his question and I nod. “It’s better than good. This might be the best thing I’ve ever eaten. What about yours?”

  “It could use more bacon, but it’s delicious. It beats the fast food we’ve been having.”

  “That’s for sure. I don’t want to see another drive thru for at least a year.” Every meal we ate on the road yesterday we got from a fast food chain restaurant. I jam a forkful of hashbrowns in my mouth. “I don’t know if I can remember a meal tasting this good before.”

  “My mum’s Irish stew.”

  “What’s that?”

  “The best meal for me will always be my mum’s cooking, especially her Irish stew.” He smacks his lips together. “I can still recall the taste of it.”

  “Did she make it with lamb?” He seems surprised at my question.

  “She did. How did you know we Irish prefer it that way?”

  “I might have a little Irish blood flowing through my veins.” I hold my thumb and index finger close together.

  “And to think I already thought you were perfect.” He grins and a warm buzz travels through me, a combination of his words and eye-catching good looks. Glancing away, I scan the diner once more for signs of unwanted attention or anything out of the ordinary. I have to focus on doing whatever is needed to survive this situation, not get all tingly when Belfast compliments me.

  We continue to eat our meals in silence. I try to avoid looking across the table as much as possible, but it’s like he’s a magnet and my eyes are metal—they keep fastening on him and I’m powerless to stop them. And once they do, it’s difficult to pry them away.

  He makes no effort to mask his clear observation of me. His warm gaze leisurely travels over my features, warming me from the inside out.

  I gobble down the remainder of my food, anxious to put more than a table’s distance between us.

  As soon as we’re finished, Belfast throws cash down on the table and slides his sunglasses on, covering his eyes. I covertly check out the other diners as we make our way to the exit.

  Once we’re outside, he catches hold of my hand, as if he’s done it hundreds of times. As if it’s his right to do so. Large palm engulfing mine, he leads me toward the car. “If we look like a real couple we’re less likely to draw attention,” he mentions quietly before I can protest.

  “Right,” I agree, doing my best to ignore the way the skin
on skin contact has me curious what he would be like as a boyfriend.

  Is he actually a hand holder?

  How affectionate would he be with a woman he cared about?

  Would he cuddle after sex?

  He clicks the keyless entry, opening the passenger door for me before releasing my hand. I slip inside, immediately missing the contact.

  While he makes his way around the car to the driver’s side, I silently scold myself for my inappropriate thoughts. Keep it professional, that’s all I need to do. It’s never been an issue for me before and it shouldn’t be one now. But this is Belfast, and he’s the ultimate bad boy, irresistible with his sexy accent and devil-may-care attitude.

  He starts the car, slanting his eyes to me. “We should reach our destination in about four and a half hours.”

  “Okay. Is that all the information I get?”

  He guides the vehicle out onto the main street and we jump on 95 South, merging with the early morning commuter traffic. “For now.”

  I sigh when I see the number of cars on the interstate. “We probably should’ve waited until after rush hour to leave,” I mention.

  “No.” He shakes his head. “As much as this will suck, more traffic makes it easier for us to blend in and not be noticed.”

  “Good point.” I slip my sunglasses on and mentally shake my head at myself. I knew that. I must be too tired to think clearly. Or being around Belfast so much has short circuited my usually keen insight into the criminal mind. While I’ve never been on the run before, I do have experience thinking like a fugitive in order to catch one.

  “If you’re still tired, you can sleep. I’m wide awake and I’m familiar with this drive.”

  “So you’ve been where we’re going?”

  “Maybe. Or maybe not.”

  “You do realize I’m going to know when we get there.”

  “I do, but it’s fun to keep you guessing for now.” His head turns to me, a smug grin settling on his masculine lips before focusing on the highway once more.

  “You might be the most frustrating man on the planet.”

  “I’m not used to you doling out so many compliments, luv.”

  “How is saying that complimentary?”

  “Because I’m the most, which means the best.” He rakes his teeth over his bottom lip and looks my way once more. “I give my all to everything I do.”

  Is that a sexual reference?

  Even though his eyes are shaded, I swear I can feel the heat of them burning into my skin.

  This is Belfast.

  It was definitely a sexual reference.

  A warm flush envelops me from head to toe. I slip the cap off my head and smooth a hand over my pulled back hair. Leaning forward, I turn the air conditioning temperature down a few degrees and settle back into my seat as if nothing is wrong.

  Fortunately, he doesn’t say anything else, and I lean my head back, closing my eyes. If I’m asleep, he can’t talk to me.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Belfast

  Georgia’s slow, steady breathing relaxes me as I drive along the last portion of NC-12 S. I took a roundabout way of traveling to the Outer Banks of North Carolina, which added about thirty minutes extra onto our time. But it was necessary if I wanted to avoid all toll roads and the toll plazas that accompany them.

  There might not be collectors in booths anymore, but there are cameras everywhere. And you can bet the FBI and whoever else might be after us will be facilitating that resource. The longer they don’t realize which direction we’re traveling, the more time we’ll have to find some of the answers we need.

  Signaling before the next street, I turn left and drive to the very end, stopping just before the road turns to beach sand. “Georgia.” I shake her arm and she jumps as if she’s been jolted with electricity. Which might be a bad reference, seeing how I did tase her yesterday. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. We’re almost there.”

  She gasps when she notices the impressive view in front of us. The Atlantic Ocean stretches out before us as far as we can see, surging and rolling, an endless sea of blue-green dotted with foaming white caps. “It’s beautiful.”

  I smile and nod. “Aye, it sure is.” I’m glad she’s as overcome by the view as I am every single time I see it. I purchased my home in Cape Hatteras a few years ago under a dummy corporation so it can never be traced back to me. I’ve only had the pleasure of spending a few weeks here in total, but every time I see this stretch of sea it feels like the first time.

  With our current circumstances, this is the perfect place for us to take refuge.

  And with it being late September, most of the seasonal visitors should be gone and we won’t have to worry about many people being around.

  “Where are we?” she asks.

  “Cape Hatteras, North Carolina.”

  “I’ve never been to the Outer Banks before, but I’ve always wanted to vacation here.”

  “It’s a good thing you found me when you did then. You get to stay for free and you’ll have me to keep you company.”

  “The free stay sounds nice,” she drolls.

  I snicker. “Plus, you’ll be able to cross it off your bucket list.”

  “Hopefully, it won’t be the last thing I get to cross off,” she grumbles.

  “Where’s your optimism, Georgie?”

  “I lost it when we were being shot at back in Boston--along with my career,” she snipes.

  “Being near the ocean is good for putting things into proper perspective. Everything feels tiny compared to the sea. It could swallow us up any time it wants and we’d be powerless to stop it. What we’re dealing with isn’t anywhere near that bad.”

  “True, but the likelihood of us not making it out of this situation alive is more realistic than the ocean drowning us.”

  “Then we’ll go down together,” I offer.

  She snorts. “That’s a comfort.”

  “Have some faith in me, luv. I’ve got plenty of experience at walking away from difficult situations unscathed.”

  “That’s true.” She tips her head in agreement.

  “And somehow we’ll find the answers we need, so you can get back to your job.”

  “That would be ideal, but not very probable at this point.”

  “Put it out of your mind for now.” Shifting into reverse, I back up into the first driveway and turn off the engine.

  “This is where we’re staying?” Georgia’s tone is one of awe.

  “Aye. Do you like it?”

  “It’s gorgeous. Is this your house?”

  “Maybe,” I tease. I can’t forget that she works for the FBI, no matter how much I want to. As it stands, this is probably the last time I’ll be staying here. “Let’s head inside.” I grab my bag from the back seat and watch Georgia as I escort her to the front door. Her eyes glide over every inch of the front portion of the house.

  I chose this particular spot because the builder constructed the house sideways on the large lot, so the back portion faces the beach instead of a neighboring street.

  “You know, this place would look just as at home on Cape Cod. I love the cedar shingle siding.”

  “Thanks. I didn’t want vinyl. Homes here should look natural against the sand and sea backdrop.”

  “Too bad you couldn’t find a stone cottage to remind you of Ireland.”

  “Ireland’s always on my mind and in my heart. She was my first love. I don’t need anything to remind me of her.”

  “I’ve always wanted to travel there.”

  “I’ll take you someday.”

  “Sure you will.” Her sarcasm is understood, but she doesn’t realize I mean those words. I’d love to bring her to my homeland and show her all the things I love best about it. I’d regale her with tales like only an Irishman can do.

  I barely suppress a smile as I imagine us there, sharing stories over a couple of mugs of my favorite ale in one of the dark pubs in my hometown.

  Slippin
g my key into the lock, I open the door. We step inside and the beach house scent envelops me. The smell of wood, salt water, and sunshine wrap around me like a comforting embrace. I’ve been away from this place for much too long.

  “Wow. This is beautiful,” Georgia whispers. She takes in the open floor plan that allows us to see clear through to the wall of glass at the back. Her shoes echo on the wooden floor as she moves toward the view like she’s hypnotized by it.

  I drop my duffel on the floor and follow her until we’re shoulder to shoulder. “I never tire of looking at this seascape.”

  “How could anyone?”

  Leaning closer, I smell her hair. “Are you hungry?” I ask her to deter my train of thought. “We can eat lunch out on the deck if you’d like.”

  “Don’t we need to go grocery shopping?”

  “No. I had Mikey email the caretaker and she dropped off food and some clothes for you.”

  “Seriously?” She turns to me, arching a brow.

  “Absolutely. Why is that so shocking? It wasn’t like you had time to grab a suitcase or prepare for a road trip.”

  “How do you have a bag ready?”

  “Mikey took care of it for me.”

  “It must be nice to have minions catering to your every whim all the time.”

  “I’ve earned my place the hard way,” I justify. “It sounds like the green-eyed monster has made an appearance.”

  “Not at all.”

  “Come on. You can admit you’re jealous. Whoever says a life of crime doesn’t pay well is doing it wrong.”

  “I prefer to stay on the right side of the law, thank you.”

  Turning to face her, I lean my shoulder against the glass. “Sometimes it’s not that black and white, Georgie. Sometimes we find ourselves in situations we never imagined, and we just do the best we can with what we’ve been given. What makes you think I chose this life for myself?”

  She crosses her arms over her chest and raises her chin. Her green eyes challenge me. “Didn’t you?”

  “No, I didn’t. And maybe someday, if you’re lucky and less judgemental, I’ll tell you.”