Of course. Even when her life depended on it, she still wouldn’t throw him a fucking bone.
Oliver spoke up, the anger in his eyes thawing. “What’s your plan?”
“I don’t know anymore,” he said testily. “I had it all worked out—before Bailey dropped her little CIA bomb.”
He stalked over to the closet and grabbed an empty duffel bag from the top shelf.
“What are you doing?” Bailey asked.
“Gathering my gear,” he said without turning around. “We need to relocate.”
“Where?”
“Rathmines.” He marched to the far wall and started gathering the weapons piled on the desk. “Rabbit thinks I’m back on his crew, which means he’ll get suspicious if I’m holed up somewhere that’s off his grid. He knows about my flat in Rathmines, so that’s where we’ll stay.”
“We?” Bailey echoed.
“You and me. Since apparently you’re stuck with me now.” He couldn’t bring himself to look at her, couldn’t bear seeing her black eye, not right now. Instead he turned to Oliver. “I know it’s inconvenient for you, but Rabbit thinks she’s my girl. We need to keep it that way.”
Oliver donned a blank look. “Why would it be inconvenient for me?”
Sean stared at him, but when his twin’s confusion heightened, he broke eye contact and moved to the cabinet where he stored his ammo.
“Okay,” Oliver said slowly, “and what exactly do you want me to do while you and Bailey play boyfriend-girlfriend?”
“What you do best. Gather information.” Sean shoved a handful of nine-millimeter magazines into the bag. “Give Paige a call and team up with her. Do some digging into Flannery’s operation. Smuggling routes, safe houses, bank accounts—whatever helps us find a way to eliminate him.”
“We can kill him,” Bailey suggested dryly. “Seems like the simplest way of all.”
“Trust me—I’m considering that option too. But if we off Flannery, we have no idea who’ll step up to take his place or what kind of trouble they’ll cause us. We’ll just let it play out until the best solution presents itself, all right?”
“Let it play out?” she echoed in disbelief. “Oh my God. You’re the worst strategist on the planet, Sean.”
Exhaustion washed over him as he finally looked her way. “It’s all I’ve got right now.”
“Okay. So let’s concentrate on the other part—Rabbit believes you’re going to help him take down Flannery?”
“I already told you, yes.”
She frowned. “And how do you two plan on doing that?”
“We haven’t figured it out yet. Right now Rabbit is too busy basking in the glow of me rejoining his cause.” Sean dropped the duffel on the floor. “Go wait in the car. I need to talk to Ollie.”
Her jaw dropped so fast he was surprised it didn’t make a sound as it hit the floor. “Did you seriously just order me to leave? I don’t take orders from you, Sean. I’m not your servant, and I’m definitely not your submissive little girlfriend, no matter what you tell Rabbit.”
“I need to talk to Ollie,” he repeated through clenched teeth. “Alone.”
Oliver intervened before Bailey could argue. “Please,” he said gently. “I’d like some alone time with my brother too. If you don’t mind.”
The tender look that passed between them was like a machete to the chest. Sean wasn’t sure which emotion ravaged him worse—the jealousy or the guilt. He’d screwed up whatever normal relationship they could have had, and he had no clue how to fix that.
“Fine. I’ll be downstairs if you need me.” But although Bailey headed for the door, it was clear she wasn’t happy about it.
As soon as he was alone with his twin, Sean released the breath he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding.
“I’m sorry, okay?”
Oliver sighed. “Well, that’s a loaded statement. What exactly are you sorry for, baby brother?”
Baby brother. Sean’s lips twitched despite himself. Ollie was only five minutes older, yet he never let Sean forget it.
But those five minutes . . . Christ, what a difference they made. Oliver had always been the adult in their relationship, the calm, levelheaded one who provided constant supervision for his troublemaking twin.
“I’m sorry about Bailey,” he clarified.
“Again, you’ll have to be a wee bit clearer.”
“I’m an ass, all right? When I told Rabbit she was my girl, I knew I was coming between you again, but . . .” He shrugged helplessly. “Flannery saw her with me. It made sense, okay?”
“Why would I care what you told Rabbit? It was a smart play, Sean. Gave you a reason for needing Rabbit’s protection, and it worked.”
“At your expense.” He bit his lip. “I tried, Ollie. I tried to keep her safe for you, to keep her out of this mess, but she refused to go.”
Oliver chuckled. “Of course she did. She’s even more stubborn than you are. But she is safe, Sean. She’s just fine.”
He hunted down the whiskey bottle, chugging a mouthful of alcohol as he slowly met his brother’s eyes. “I don’t understand why you don’t hate me.”
“’Cause I love you like a brother.”
Sean snapped up his middle finger. It was their running gag, though when it’d first started, he used to retort with “I am your brother.” Eventually he’d condensed it by simply flipping Ollie the bird.
He raised the bottle to his lips and took another deep swig. He needed the liquid courage. Desperately. Because what he was about to say . . . it was something he’d kept from Oliver for far too long.
“I slept with her.”
Oliver’s forehead wrinkled. “Are we talking about Bailey?”
“Who the fuck else would we be talking about?” Misery clogged his throat as he repented for a second time. “I slept with her.”
Silence hung between them, creating a gaping chasm that Sean struggled to bridge before Oliver shut down. Before he lost the one person who mattered most to him.
“That’s why she ended it with you,” Sean said softly. “Because she slept with me and she felt guilty about it.”
His brother continued to watch him, his expression unreadable.
“Goddamn it, I slept with the woman you love, Ollie. Would you fucking say something?”
“I know.”
The nonchalant response threw him for a loop. “What?”
“I know,” Oliver repeated. “Bailey told me about it the day after it happened.”
“You knew? And you didn’t say anything?” Jesus Christ. He’d been walking around for a whole year with a world of guilt weighing down on his shoulders, and Oliver had known the truth the entire time? “For fuck’s sake, why the hell didn’t you kick my ass?”
Sighing, his twin gestured to the whiskey bottle. Sean passed it over and waited while Oliver took a quick sip.
“Look, I wasn’t exactly thrilled that you pulled a twin switch on her, but I can’t say I was surprised. Besides, I was the asshole in the equation. I knew how you felt about Bailey, and I still went out with her.”
Bloody hell. Oliver was taking responsibility? Talk about taking the good-twin persona to new extremes.
“The blame’s all on me,” Sean insisted. “I’m the asshole. You were dating her, and I slept with her anyway.”
“Sean—”
“Why aren’t you hitting me right now?” Disbelief rippled through him. “What the fuck is the matter with you, Ollie? Are you applying for sainthood or something?”
“Would you cut it out with that crap? I’m not a bloody saint, brother. And here’s another news flash for you—I was never in love with Bailey. And she was never in love with me.”
Sean’s breath hitched before seeping out in a shaky rush. “Bullshit.”
“Truth,” Oliver corrected. “The night I asked you to cancel my dinner with Bailey? It wasn’t a date, you idiot. We were meeting up as friends.”
“Friends.”
He did
n’t believe it for a second, but Oliver was adamant. “Yes, friends. Before that, we’d gone on a few dates, made out once—”
Damned if his chest didn’t clench with anger.
“—but the spark wasn’t there. The first time I kissed her, she burst out laughing. Whenever I’d touch her, she’d draw back awkwardly. Definitely wasn’t good for my ego, but truth was, I wasn’t feeling it either. We decided we were better off as friends and that’s all we were those last few months.” Oliver shrugged. “She wasn’t guilty about sleeping with you, Sean.” He paused. “She was just pissed off.”
Yeah? Well, that just pissed him off, because he knew damn well she’d enjoyed every second of that night. She’d moaned so loudly he was surprised nobody in the hotel had filed a noise complaint. She’d clawed his back so hard it’d left marks.
But not only had Bailey denied liking it, she’d gone ahead and let him think she was in love with his brother.
And now he found out she and Ollie had only been friends?
“You’re saying I didn’t screw up your relationship?” he said in dismay.
“We didn’t have a relationship.” Oliver smirked. “But I’m not saying you didn’t screw up. Because you did. Big-time. You lied to her, and you know Bailey doesn’t forgive easily.”
No kidding.
“Look.” Oliver softened his tone. “I don’t know what’s going on with you two—that’s for you and Bailey to straighten out—but you need to put it on hold until we figure out what to do about Flannery and Rabbit.”
Oliver was right. Oliver was always right.
But Sean was still sifting through the wreckage of the shocking bomb that had just been dropped on him. Bailey didn’t love Ollie. She hadn’t, not even back then.
He’d thought she was denying her attraction to him because of her feelings for his brother, but now he had to face the bleak truth. She was holding back because of him.
Because she didn’t want him.
Jesus. The thought of going downstairs and seeing her . . . being around her and smelling her sweet lavender scent and looking into her big gray eyes, all the while knowing she didn’t want him . . . He wasn’t sure he could handle that at the moment.
“Will you drive Bailey to the flat?” He let out a tired breath. “I want to stick around here for a bit longer.”
Oliver narrowed his eyes. “Why?”
“Because I need some time to think. I can’t keep a clear head around that woman, okay? I just need to figure some shit out before this bloody charade begins.”
Oliver started to shake his head, but Sean cut him off before he could object. “Rabbit isn’t expecting me back until tomorrow. We’ve got the whole night to regroup.”
“Fine. I’ll drive her. But don’t take too long.” Oliver hesitated, then moved in to hug him, clapping Sean on the back before heading for the door. “I’ll see you later, baby brother.”
Sean waited a full two minutes, until he was certain his brother wasn’t coming back, and then he reached for the whiskey again.
Fuck thinking.
That was the last thing he wanted to do right now.
Chapter 13
So far, so good. The awkwardness Sullivan had been anticipating was almost nonexistent, just the merest trace of tension beneath the surface, but not enough to put him on edge. He and Liam had teamed up for the evening’s recon, and the easy camaraderie they’d shared since the moment they’d met in New York was still there, making it easy to forget the other bullshit.
And yeah, maybe he was making a conscious effort not to look at Liam’s mouth, but hell, it was definitely helping him to stay focused.
“What do you think they’re talking about?” Liam picked at the potato wedges on his plate, taking a tiny bite out of one.
They’d been trying to stretch out the meal for as long as they could, ordering a revolving door of light appetizers and constant coffee refills as they kept tabs on the two men across the room. Now that Reilly was “working” for Ronan Flannery, Morgan’s men had been tasked with following some of Rabbit’s higher-ranked lieutenants to try to uncover who Flannery’s mole might be.
Technically it was supposed to be one-on-one coverage, but Sully and Liam’s targets—Doherty and Doyle—were having dinner together at a restaurant in the ritzy village of Howth, which Sully found perplexing. According to the Reilly brothers, O’Hare’s Pub served decent food, yet their targets had chosen to dine as far away from the pub as possible.
Maybe there were two moles? Sullivan glanced at the back table, noting the hushed conversation between the Irishmen. It looked serious, but not confrontational.
“No clue,” he said in response to Liam’s question. “But now I’m wondering if Flannery has two inside men.” He shrugged. “Maybe they’re whispering about their dastardly plan to take down O’Hare.”
“Christ, it’s so weird hearing you talk like that.” Liam lowered his voice as he commented on Sullivan’s East Coast accent.
“It takes away from my natural charm, huh?”
“It’s fucking surreal. You sound like me.”
Sullivan grinned. He’d spent enough time with Liam that he’d perfected the Boston inflection. He was using it now so that anyone who overheard them would think they were just a couple of American tourists catching a bite together.
“Man, I can’t wait to get back to Bahston and see my motha,” Sully drawled. “I left my cah in the cah pahk. I wanna stop by Hahvad campus and—”
“Oh, shut up.” But Liam was laughing.
Sullivan’s answering laughter died the second he heard the click of high heels behind him. Before he could blink, a blur of red hair and shapely curves slid into the seat next to him.
“Evening, lads.” The redhead curled her fingers around the back of Sullivan’s neck and pulled his head in for a quick kiss. “Hey, baby, I missed you.”
It took a few head-scratching seconds to realize that he was looking at Isabel Roma.
Sullivan chuckled as the confusion gave way to joy. “Why, hello there, love.”
“Sorry I’m late,” she chirped. “The taxi was late.” She spoke in a flawless Irish accent, which told him she was pretending to be a local, then.
He and Liam exchanged amused grins, but neither man commented on her presence. Evidently Bailey had recruited another operative for this job, and it made sense that she’d called Isabel. The woman was a master of disguise—Sully didn’t even recognize her with that curly mop of red hair and the bright green contacts. And her face looked fuller than usual. Makeup, most likely, or maybe those cheek inserts he’d seen her use on previous jobs.
“What did I miss?” she said softly.
She snuggled close to Sullivan and he played his part by slinging his arm over her shoulder. “Not much. Our friends are enjoying a nice seafood platter.”
Liam signaled for their waiter, who hurried over to take Isabel’s drink order. She hit Sully hard with PDA as she skimmed the cocktail menu, resting her palm on his thigh and stroking gently, which made him hard. Yup, he was a man so he got hard, even though the hand doing the stroking belonged to a teammate’s wife.
Once the waiter was gone, Isabel brought her lips close to his ear. “Thought it would look less suspicious if one of you had a girlfriend. Otherwise you guys look like two thugs scoping out the place.”
“Not complaining in the slightest,” he replied, licking his lips seductively.
She rolled her eyes at the lewd display.
“How’s Trev?” Liam asked. His features had tensed, and Sullivan suspected his friend knew damn well where Isabel’s hand was resting.
“He’s good,” she answered. “Down in South America with Kane at the moment. We had to kennel the dog because we’re both out of town.”
Sullivan raised an eyebrow. “You have a dog? Since when?”
“Since it showed up on our doorstep begging for scraps and then refused to go away.” She sighed. “The damn thing guilt-tripped us into becoming do
g owners.”
“What’d you name him?”
“Chad.”
Both men snickered.
“Chad?” Sullivan repeated.
“Hey, don’t look at me. Trev named him and I didn’t care enough to argue about it.” She discreetly did a sweep of the room. “So who are we watching?”
Liam gave a subtle nod.
Isabel’s gaze made contact with Doherty and Doyle’s table, and then she turned back with a faint grin. “Aw, they’re sweet. How long have they been a couple, you think?”
Sully didn’t miss the alarm on Liam’s face. “What makes you think they are?” Liam said slowly.
“Are you kidding me? I can feel the sexual tension from here.” She rolled her eyes. “And they’re playing footsies under the table.”
Sullivan snuck another peek at Rabbit’s men, who were still talking in low voices. How the hell had he missed that they were gay? Above the table there was nothing untoward happening, but below it . . . Hot damn. Isabel was right.
Well, now it made sense why they’d decided to dine on the other side of the county tonight. They were probably trying to hide their relationship from the rest of Rabbit’s macho crew.
Across from him, Liam was also studying the men, a crease digging into his forehead, and Sullivan could pinpoint the exact moment when Liam’s thoughts shifted. When his friend accessed the memory they’d both been pretending to forget.
Their eyes locked for one brief second, and then Liam gave a strangled cough and reached for his drink.
It was too late, though. Sullivan’s mind had already conjured up the same damn images.
Lord . . . he would never forget the lust he’d glimpsed burning in his friend’s eyes back in Paris. It had incinerated the air, not just before and during that blunder of a kiss, but after it, too.
It was the after that troubled Sullivan the most. He’d made a move on Liam out of sheer frustration, because he’d been angry and horny and astonished to find his best mate looking at him like that. Afterward, Liam had pretended that it was no biggie, easily accepting Sully’s apology and acting like things were cool, and Sullivan had been happy to play along.