His Wicked Celtic Kiss (22 page)

He lifted her hand to his mouth. Those damned lips of his. The kiss so soft, gentle, and possessive. What she had to say next would no doubt kill the mood, but she said it anyway. “I want you to know this, Lorcan. These last several months we've spent together have been the best of my life. I'm falling for you. As in … love. I tried to fight it, ignore it, but I can't anymore. I love you, so very much. There, I said it. Finally. And I don't expect you to say it back.”

He dropped her hand like it was covered with open sores. He lowered his head, his hair falling forward, creating a protective curtain so she could not see his face or those expressive eyes.

Here it comes, the old “I care for you, but we can't be together” speech. He tried to tell her exactly that after Thanksgiving.
Instead, let's wait until Christmas to smash my heart to bits.
God, the holidays could suck the big one.

Lorcan remained quiet for some time. She gently lifted his chin with two fingers so he would look at her. The torment on his face nearly broke her heart. “This was the last thing I wanted, for you to love me. I thought it could be avoided. I never wanted to hurt you, but it looks like I will anyway. I'm so sorry.”

She could see the remorse. Regret was spelled out in huge, capital letters all over his face, in permanent marker no less. She heard it in his voice. So there would not be some big romance movie finish here. He wouldn't get down on his knees and declare his deep, abiding and unwavering love. He wouldn't be begging her to return to Ireland with him. He wasn't going to sling her over his shoulder and carry her off to her bedroom to prove their enduring love. No, he would walk away. She felt it to the marrow of her bones. She could've kept her little secret, said nothing, and he would've left anyway. This way at least, she was honest and true to herself, and honest with him.

Julie waited. He remained silent, reflective even. Finally, he spoke. “Thank you for telling me. I will treasure the gift of your love, always. But I can't return it.”

“Can't … or won't?”

He clicked his tongue. “I don't know. Pathetic, isn't it? I don't know what I'm feeling, if I'm even capable of feeling, anything … for anybody. But thanks to you, I have felt more than I have these last few years. My heart is a charred cinder. It's beyond repair, beyond hope.”

Julie stroked his chin. She amazed herself how strong she was being. Deep inside she was falling to pieces, but outwardly? A damned rock like the Bob Seger song in those Chevy truck commercials. She leaned in and kissed his lips. “No heart is beyond hope or repair. I really believe that. You've been through something horrible, Lorcan. I can't begin to imagine it. Maybe if you talked to someone … ”

He stood suddenly. Here it comes. He was going to walk out again. Whenever emotions overwhelmed him, he ran. “I should go, and maybe we'd better not see each other until after Christmas. I need time … to think. To process what you said. Call me when you get back, will you do that, Julie?”

What could she say? Maybe a slim hope remained and he would have an epiphany over Christmas. Why not? It was the time for miracles. “I promise I'll call you when I get back from my parents. But know this. You can't keep running from feeling anything or pushing people away. First thing you know there will be no one left to care about you. Think about that. People can only take so much rejection. You have to decide if you want to spend the rest of your life alone, or if you want friends—or more importantly someone to love.” Anger boiled deep inside and bubbled to the surface. She poked him in the chest with a good deal of force. “There is more going on between us than casual sex whether you want to admit it or not. Think good and hard on that, too.”

Lorcan stepped away and opened the closet and slipped on his leather coat. She sat on the sofa and exhaled, her hands shaking from the outpouring of raw emotions. The door opened, but then she was suddenly pulled from the sofa and up into his arms. He kissed her hard, possessively, his tongue stroking every inch of her mouth until both of them groaned with desire. But then, just as suddenly, he stepped away and walked out the door.

Christmas for Lorcan during the past decade had been nothing more than just another day. All those years in the army, he might be lucky enough to receive the occasional hot Christmas meal, but after stuffing himself—with stuffing—it was back to the business of so-called peacekeeping. After he'd joined the secret service, he usually spent the holidays alone. No decorations, no huge meal, and no mince pie. A few gifts from his family would sit on the floor unopened. While with the secret service, he found himself rarely in Ireland, Instead, he had been off on assignment. One Christmas had been spent with a woman he had under surveillance; they'd spent the day in bed. After the meaningless encounter with the stranger, he returned to his place and got thoroughly inebriated. He sat in his half-empty room in the dark and drunkenly sang Christmas carols and immersed himself in maudlin memories of Christmases long ago.

As a kid, he'd been thrilled when he'd found a Star Wars Lego set under the tree. His family was not well off, and seven kids in the family meant the gifts were spread pretty thin, but his parents tried their best. He'd always vowed he would try and give any kids he had those kinds of Christmas memories, the ones that kept you from falling off the dark cliff late at night when drowning in a vat of self-pity, or a vat of Kilkenny.

So here he sat on Christmas day with Sully at the Playpen, eating a reheated Christmas Eve dinner the staff had the day before. They were both quiet and reflective. He really didn't want to bring up Julie and her declaration of love. Lorcan still couldn't process her heartfelt words. She loved him. It stunned him, amazed him, and bleedin' well frightened him all at once.

Sully poured Lorcan more white wine. “For a man who loves a chinwag, you're being way too quiet, Lorcan. What's amiss? Is it Julie? Did she not invite you to her parents, is that why you look like your guts have been kicked out?”

Lorcan snorted, reached for the wine and sipped. “I really don't want to discuss Julie, mate.”

Sully raised an eyebrow. “Talk to me. Something happened.”

Lorcan slumped back in his chair, holding his wine glass in front of him so tightly, he almost snapped the stem. “She loves me.”

Sully let out a bark of cynical laughter. “And that has you depressed? Jaysus.”

Lorcan took another swig. “I don't want her or anyone to love me.”

Sully frowned. “Now that is utter bollocks. I've known you since we were kiddies playing around the Quays. I know you, Lorcan, or at least I thought I did. You've changed. We haven't talked about it, because I don't like to pry. You can't keep people at arm's length, mate. It's not in the nature of a human. Bloody hell, it's not in
your
nature. A perfectly lovely woman is in love with you. Poor you.”

Lorcan glanced up at Sully. It was the most he'd spoken in some time. “She deserves better. She deserves someone capable of loving her back. Someone not ... damaged.”

Sully stood, pushing his chair back with a good deal of force. “Now you're reaching for excuses. Do you love her?”

“I don't know. What in hell is love anyway? Even if I did love her, I'm not ready for any kind of relationship.” Lorcan looked down into his now near empty wine glass. “Something did happen, and aye, it changed me. Julie says I should talk to someone about it. I assume she means professional.”

“Oh? You told Julie what haunts you? Christ, man. That is love. Sharing everything, your fears, and your darkest secrets. You love her,” Sully said, his voice firm.

Lorcan was about to reply when his iPhone started to vibrate. He glanced at the screen.
Liam de Luca.
He told Vinnie he would be available tonight, but he never dreamed either Vinnie or his son would call, not on Christmas night of all nights. He sighed and answered. De Luca sounded angry. He wanted Lorcan to pick him up right away. Liam hung up in his ear. Lorcan stood and reached for his coat.

“I have to go. De Luca, the heir apparent, wants a pick up.”

Sully shook his head. “You're better than this, taxi service to a family of mobsters? Even if they are my family. Hell's bells, mate.”

Lorcan shrugged. “Maybe, but I needed this downtime, Sully. Not much effort in driving, brainwise or otherwise. But I've been thinking … ” Lorcan slipped the iPhone in his coat pocket. “I might start up a security firm when I'm done here. Back home in Ireland. Maybe you would want to come into it with me. We'll talk more, later.” He clapped his friend affectionately on the shoulder. “Thanks for dinner. And the advice. I'll think on what you said.”

And he did, as he drove toward Carmarthen Street. Was Sully right? Telling Julie about his nightmares, could that prove he loved her? Being with Julie wouldn't cure him of his terrors, but her support would help. So would someone who was trained to deal with PTSD. Maybe he needed to see someone. A professional. He had put it off long enough.

His head was swimming, and the turkey and gravy did flip-flops in his stomach. Julie would be back in a couple of days. What would he say to her?

He pulled up in front of the townhouses, and there stood Liam De Luca, his face like thunder. Great, what happened? He and his lady fought on Christmas night? Chalk one up for true love, he thought cynically. Liam opened the car door and slid into the back seat, slamming it with a good deal of force. He held up his hand, while he punched numbers into his cell with the other.

“Hey, Carole? Meet me at the Belvedere, room 312. I already called and booked it. I know I said I'd give you more notice, but it's tonight or not at all!”

He ended the call, his face tense. Lorcan kept watching him in the rear view mirror. Liam De Luca looked irritated and hurt. Misery swam in his eyes. Ah, so he did have an argument with his lady. “The Belvedere,” Liam mumbled.

“Aye, Mr. De Luca.”
Taxi driver to the mob—that's me.
No worries. And none of his business.

The car was like a tomb, silent and a bit foreboding. Finally Liam spoke. “Did I fuck up your plans tonight? Pop said you were available, so I called you instead of Paulie.”

“No plans. The lady I'm seeing is out of town.” Lorcan replied.

He hoped De Luca was not in the mood to spill his guts, because he wasn't in the mood to listen. He had enough problems of his own without listening to Liam De Luca's. Cheating S.O.B. No doubt his lady Maggie called him on the carpet for his dalliances. He was sure it was her that day on the street. Thankfully, De Luca sat back in his seat and kept quiet the rest of the way to the hotel.

• • •

Two hours later and Lorcan sat in the bar of the Belvedere Hotel nursing a Black Bush. At this rate he would be here all night. De Luca had stamina when he had these episodes, or so he surmised. Lorcan doubted they were up in the room playing checkers.

Sitting alone on Christmas night. He was sick of it. But, if he insisted on pushing people away, he'd probably be alone on Christmas night and every night that followed. It was a grim realization.

He took a sip and glanced around the bar. There were only a couple of other people who were like him with no one to go home to. Sad, really. It was certainly this time of the year when want and loneliness were keenly felt—to sort of quote Dickens. And what would his “Ghost of the Christmas Future” show him? A man in his fifties with a slight paunch, sitting alone at a bar on Christmas night sucking back the whiskey shots to numb the pain and lonesomeness. Brilliant. He raised his glass to the man at the other end of that bar that pretty much fit that description. The man cocked an eyebrow, and looked back down into the depths of his amber liquid. So much for Christmas cheer.

Examining it, he really didn't want to be the miserable man at the end of the bar on the dark side of fifty. Or any vision of a booze-fueled Dickens future. So, what should he do? He was so feckin' confused, he didn't trust his own thoughts and emotions. By the time he ordered his second Black Bush and headed into his third hour of his self-pity Christmas party, his iPhone buzzed and jumped in his pocket.
About bloody time.

“Hello?”

“Is this Byrne?” a deep voice questioned. Not Liam De Luca and not Vinnie, and they were the only ones that had this number. “Aye, who's this?”

“Kieran De Luca. Pop gave me this number. I'm trying to reach Liam, but I just keep getting his voice mail. You in the bar?”

“Aye, as per your brother's instructions.”

“Get upstairs and tell him to stuff it back in his pants. He has to call me ASAP. It's important. Life or death important. Go. Now.” Kieran barked.

Who was he to argue? He didn't relish the thought of interrupting De Luca, but whatever. “Fine, I'm going.”

He clicked off, threw a twenty on the bar and strode out toward the elevators. No matter how hard he tried to avoid it, he seemed to be pulled into Liam De Luca's dramas whether he liked it or not.

Standing in front of room 316, he started banging on the door. Why didn't the brother just call through to the room? He shrugged and kept knocking until he heard heavy footfalls and cursing come toward the door. Liam threw it open, his face thunderous. He had a towel wrapped precariously around his hips. “What? You were told … ”

“Your brother rang my mobile. You're to call him, life and death, he said.” Lorcan looked around Liam inside the room, glancing at the phone on the desk beyond.

Liam followed his gaze. “Ringer's off. Stay here and don't move.”

A woman with a sheet wrapped around her poked her head outside the bedroom door. Her hair was disheveled and her body covered in a thin gleam of sweat.

“Get my phone, now!” he yelled to her.

She ducked her head back in, then came into the room and handed De Luca his mobile. He brought up a number and hit the call button. “Yeah, Liam. What … ” Several minutes passed, and then De Luca's annoyed look changed to shock. He dropped the phone, and then dropped to his knees. A bloodcurdling wail of agony tore from his throat.