Midnight Captive (12 page)

You okay?

Fine. Why the hell is Bailey here?

Don’t ask.

I want her out of here.

Trust me, so do I.

Rabbit watched Oliver and Bailey’s embrace in fascination, then chuckled again. “Interesting. Or . . . maybe not.” He smirked at Sean. “You lads always did like to share your toys when you were young.”

Possessiveness reared up and hardened his jaw. “She’s mine.”

The fierce claim caused Oliver to look over in surprise. He released Bailey, whose expression revealed nothing as she dropped her arms from Oliver’s neck and cautiously walked back to Sean.

He swallowed his bitterness. Leaving Oliver’s side was probably torture for her. And having to pretend to be Sean’s girlfriend when the man she loved was standing five feet away? Probably made her sick.

“As you can see, Ollie is just fine.” Rabbit lifted a mocking eyebrow. “I showed you mine. Now you show me yours.”

Without a word, he pulled the flash drive out of his back pocket and tossed it to Rabbit. The man had solid reflexes, catching it easily before smiling magnanimously. “Wasn’t so hard, was it? And see, I’m a man of my word. You helped me, I helped you in return.”

“You kidnapped my brother—that wasn’t helping me,” Sean snapped. “But damned if you won’t help me
now
.”

Rabbit turned the flash drive over in his hand a couple of times. Then he spoke, thoughtful again. “Does this have something to do with the bruise on your pretty bird’s eye?”

Sean glanced at Ollie. “Take Bailey to the café next door. I’ll be there in a minute.”

As expected, his twin gave a resolute shake of the head. “No way.”

“Just fucking do it. I don’t want either one of you around for this.”

The twins stared at each other again.

Sean transmitted another silent message.

Do it, Ollie. Bailey will fill you in
.

After a long beat of hesitation, Oliver ended the stare down with a nod. “Fine.”

“Go with Ollie,” Sean told Bailey. “I’ll be there shortly.”

She clutched his forearm, playing her part of fragile, loving girlfriend to a tee. “I don’t want to leave you,” she whispered.

“I won’t be long. I promise.”

Unable to stop himself, he dipped his head and kissed her. Just the fleeting touch of his mouth to hers, but Jesus, he wanted more. He wanted to drive his tongue inside, to hear that tiny whimper she’d made last year when he’d nibbled on her bottom lip.

But he couldn’t do that. Not because they were being watched, but because Bailey didn’t belong to him. She belonged to the man who looked like him. The man who stepped forward now to take her hand.

Cillian snapped into a defensive stance as Oliver tried to lead Bailey to the door. Rabbit’s guard dog swiftly placed himself in their path, his fingers ominously curling around his weapon.

Sean’s shoulders stiffened. “Let them go.”

Cillian glanced at Rabbit, who stayed quiet.

“Let them go,” Sean repeated, praying like hell that he wouldn’t have to draw his own weapon. “You have no need for Ollie anymore. We’ve got business to discuss.” He shot Rabbit a pointed look. “Ronan Flannery.”

The name achieved the desired result. Rabbit’s lips twisted. His light brown eyes darkened with menace. Then he nodded at Cillian, who immediately stepped aside so Bailey and Oliver could pass.

Oliver’s eyes found Sean’s again, conveying a warning—
Be careful
—before he ushered Bailey out the door.

The moment they were gone, Sean exhaled a relieved breath.

Son of a bitch.

He’d done it. Oliver was no longer being held in some scuzzy safe house. Bailey was no longer risking her life beside him.

He’d
done
it.

“For Christ’s sake, Seansy. You don’t need to look so relieved.” Rabbit sounded oddly defensive. “I didn’t hurt him. Wasn’t gonna either. The lad spent a lovely week at my flat in Ballymount. Had plenty of books and grub and fine Tullamore Dew single malt.”

Sean stared at him.

“It was the only way to guarantee your cooperation, you stubborn feck!” Rabbit rubbed his beard in aggravation. “I loved your father. I love you and Ollie.” He waved the flash drive around. “But the cause needs this, don’t you see? I couldn’t trust Gallagher to get it for me.”

“Gallagher
died
for you yesterday, you bastard.”

“He was working for Flannery,” Rabbit said flatly.

Interesting. Was that what Flannery’s mole was feeding Rabbit these days?

“You’re sure of that?” Sean prompted.

Rabbit exchanged a look with Cillian, who remained stone-faced. “Pretty sure,” the man replied. “Don’t you see, Seansy? I needed you there to keep the men honest. And you did. You got the package. So let’s just call the rest of it water under the bridge, eh? Bygones and such.”

Sean laughed humorlessly. “You kidnapped my brother and blackmailed me into robbing a bank, and you’re talking to me about bygones? No dice, Eamon. Only way you’re going to redeem yourself in my eyes is if you help me now.”

A heavy sigh rumbled out of Rabbit’s chest. “Then have a seat, lad. Let’s see what we can do.”

*   *   *

“What the
hell
is going on?” Oliver hissed as he and Bailey left O’Hare’s Pub.

“Let’s not talk out on the sidewalk.” She sighed. “Come on, we’ll grab a table over there while we wait for Sean.”

Oliver didn’t put up an argument. He willingly followed her to the café down the street, where Sullivan was currently staked out. Neither one of them acknowledged the blond Australian, but from the tic in Ollie’s jaw, she knew he’d spotted Sully. The other man nodded almost imperceptibly, a ghost of a smile on his face, then resumed reading the newspaper. Bailey saw his lips move slightly—probably reporting to the others that Oliver was okay.

The patio had a huge red awning that allowed them to sit outside without worrying about the rain, but a soft mist still floated through the air. Bailey and Oliver sat down and ordered coffees, eyeing each other across the small table.

It felt strange to be staring at a man who was identical to Sean. For the most part, the twins were carbon copies, right down to the sensual curve of their mouths and the faint crinkles around their vivid green eyes. It was only when you looked past their identical features that you began to notice the slight differences. Oliver’s wavy blond hair was longer, curling under his ears and at the back of his neck; Sean’s was cropped military short. Oliver’s jaw was always relaxed; Sean’s was tighter than a guitar string about to snap. Oliver’s face was clean-shaven most of the time; Sean’s was always shadowed with stubble.

Still, despite the differences, the similarities were impossible to ignore, bringing a helpless feeling to Bailey’s stomach. Why couldn’t she lust after
this
brother? It would make her life so much easier, and yet . . . when she
looked at Ollie’s mouth, she didn’t want to kiss it. When he touched her, she didn’t forget her name.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” she asked once their coffees arrived. She studied his appearance—T-shirt, cargo pants, and army surplus coat stretching over his broad shoulders. He didn’t look like a man who’d been mistreated, unless you counted the exhaustion lining his eyes.

“I’m fine. Rabbit wasn’t talking out of his ass before—he didn’t want to hurt me.” Oliver shrugged. “He just wanted me and Sean to play ball. It would’ve gone the other way, you know, if it was Sean in London instead of me.”

“His trust in you two is astonishing,” she remarked. “Do you think that’s all it really is? He wants you guys back on his crew because he trusts you?”

“I think so. Rabbit accused us of taking a shit on our father’s memory when we left the Dagger, but he made sure we knew he’d always welcome us back. Except, well, we didn’t
want
to come back, so he forced our hands.” Oliver raked his fingers through his blond curls. “Now can you please tell me why my brother is still in there?”

Letting out another sigh, Bailey told him about Ronan Flannery’s late-night visit and the man’s “request” that Sean help Flannery’s mole take over Rabbit’s organization.

“That’s bloody insane!” Oliver exclaimed. “And my brother was daft enough to agree to this?”

“He had no choice.”

Wait—why was she defending
Sean
? She one hundred percent
agreed
that he was crazy for not skipping town.

“Flannery threatened to kill me if he didn’t cooperate,” Bailey admitted. “And Sean couldn’t show up to this exchange without making it look like he’s following
Flannery’s orders. Whoever the mole is, he needs to believe Sean is doing what Flannery asked.”

A wrinkle appeared in Oliver’s forehead. “Rabbit seems to think the mole was Rhys Gallagher.”

“It’s not. Flannery wouldn’t have been so smug and cheerful if his inside man was dead. I bet the mole planted the Gallagher idea in Rabbit’s head.” She paused to take a sip of coffee. God, she needed the caffeine boost. It had been a long fucking day. “Sean’s biding his time until he can figure out how to get Flannery off his back.”

Oliver’s gaze darkened. “Did Sean tell you about Flannery and Rabbit’s history?”

She nodded.

“Well, then you know it won’t be easy to get Flannery off
anyone’s
back, not when Rabbit is involved. And not when he finally has a real chance to destroy his enemy.”

“You could leave town,” she pointed out. “You and Sean. Go somewhere where Flannery won’t find you. We both know it won’t take much for you guys to disappear. You’ve got contacts in every corner of the world.”

“Oh, we could absolutely do it, but I know my brother, Bailey.” Oliver wrapped both hands around his mug. “He won’t run. And he won’t live on the run.”

“Not even to stay alive?”

“Sean’s the most stubborn bastard on the planet. You know that better than anyone.” Oliver gave a wry smile. “Do you honestly think he’d let someone run him out of town?” He brought his mug to his lips. “No. We’ll have to fight back.”

His use of the word
we
didn’t surprise her. The Reilly brothers were joined at the hip. They’d clean up this mess together, the way they always did.

“But you’ll need to leave town, Bailey.” Oliver nodded as if it was already decided, proving that he and his brother were more alike than she’d thought.

“I can’t,” she answered. “Rabbit thinks I’m Sean’s girlfriend.”

“Rabbit also thinks Flannery clocked you, which means he won’t bat an eye if Sean whisks you out of town. Hell, Rabbit would probably prefer it—he wants Sean focused on the cause, not a woman.” Oliver set down his cup. “And don’t forget, Flannery has no idea who you really are. Sure, he threatened to kill you, but he can’t kill a ghost, remember?”

The smile that reached her lips faded fast. “I expected this from Sean—I mean, he’s been trying to get rid of me since I got here. But you, Ollie? Do you honestly think I can leave the two of you to fight this battle alone?”

“It would be . . . easier,” he admitted. “You’re a distraction, Bailey.”

“To who?”

“Who do you think?” Oliver blew out a frustrated breath. “My brother’s not right in the head when you’re around. He won’t be able to do what needs to be done if he’s worrying about you.”

“He doesn’t have to worry about me,” she shot back. “I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”

“I know you are. He knows that, too.” Oliver shrugged. “But that won’t stop either one of us from worrying.”

Before she could argue with his chauvinistic logic, her cell phone interrupted them. “This conversation’s not over,” she warned as she grabbed the phone.

She checked the caller ID and frowned. Unknown number. Which was highly alarming, because there was no such thing as an unknown number in her life, not since Paige had pulled her techno voodoo on Bailey’s cell phone. Paige’s decryption chip could detect any number, even when the person on the other end was trying to hide it.

Bailey considered not answering, but the warning
bells shrieking in her head were saying she needed to take the call. Unknown variables were too dangerous—she functioned better when she knew who her enemies were.

After a beat, she picked up with a guarded “Yes?”

The voice that slid into her ear turned the blood in her veins to ice.

“Tara, it’s me. I’m afraid we have a problem.”

Tara.

It wasn’t a name that many people knew. It wasn’t a name that anyone
called
her, at least not in a very long time. After the CIA had assigned her the handle Bailey, only two people had continued to use her given name.

One of them was her mother.

The other was Isaac Daniels.

Bailey’s fingers tightened around the phone. She noticed Oliver watching her in concern, but she quickly shook her head and pasted on a weak smile to indicate that everything was okay. Then she apologetically gestured to the phone as if to say,
I need to take this
, and rose from her chair.

She waited until she was on the sidewalk, several yards from the patio, before she spoke again. “What do you want?”

“Is that any way to greet an old friend?”

A friend? They weren’t
friends
, for fuck’s sake. He’d been her handler for seven years. Her lover for five. And God, what a mistake the latter had been. She’d longed for a partner, and instead she’d found herself at the mercy of yet another man who wanted to control her.

“Let me guess,” she muttered, ignoring the good-natured taunt. “You spoke to Gwen.”

Surprise washed over the line. “Gwen? No.” A pause. “Why, have
you
spoken to Gwen?”

“Nope,” she lied.

He laughed, that familiar rumble of sound that once upon a time had made her heart pound. “You’re forgetting who you’re talking to, Tara. I was the one who taught you how to lie, remember? And no, this has nothing to do with Gwen—although trust me, I
will
be having a chat with her once you and I are through.”

“Then what’s this about? Because if you’re calling about a job, I’m not inte—”

“Someone ran your prints through the system.”

Bailey froze. “Which system?”

“All of them,” he said flatly. “AFIS, DOD, military channels, pretty much any database you can think of.”

“Shit.”

“Oh, it gets worse, sweetheart.”

She cringed at the endearment. Every time she spoke to him, Daniels continued to act like time hadn’t passed, like she hadn’t walked out on him five years ago. He still viewed her as the young girl he’d recruited out of high school, the girl he’d molded into an operative and turned into a killer, only to rein her in when he decided the world was too dangerous for her. He’d been a father figure to her—God knew she’d needed one—but then he’d started
acting
like it, and not like one of those warm, supportive fathers you saw on television. He’d become a bully. Fiercely protective and possessive.

No,
obsessive.

“When your fingerprints went online, a red flag popped up in our system,” Daniels said. “Obviously your prints didn’t give our mystery hacker your identity—
there aren’t any files on you in the main databases—but the bastard saw the flag on our end.”

“So? My CIA file is confidential. Can’t be accessed without the highest security clearance, right?” But it still worried her that someone had managed to lift her fingerprints without her knowledge.

And Daniels’s response worried her even more. “Right. But someone accessed the file, Tara.”

A chill blew up her spine. Shit.
Shit.

“And we both know there’s only one way that could’ve happened,” Daniels went on. “Someone in the company allowed it to happen.”

“You’re saying one of your people leaked my file?” She kept her voice to a low hiss, but it was impossible to control her anger. “How the
fuck
did you let that happen, Isaac?”

“Trust me, sweetheart—I’m not thrilled about it myself. Obviously there’s a rat in the company, and it’s someone high up on the food chain. Only senior-level staff can access the spook files.”

Flannery.

It had to be Flannery—the bastard had dirt on every important person in the goddamn world. He must have someone in the CIA too.

And that someone had accessed her file. Which meant that he or she had passed the information on to Flannery. Which meant that Flannery knew her real name, her background, her—

“Oh God. My mother,” she mumbled into the phone.

“I told you, it gets worse,” Daniels said grimly.

Bailey was beginning to feel faint. “Are you telling me this isn’t even the
bad
part?”

“I just received a call from Josiah.”

“Who’s Josiah?”

There was a long pause.

“Who the fuck is Josiah, Isaac?”

Her former boss sighed. “The agent I assigned to Vanessa.”

Bailey hissed in fury. “You ordered surveillance on my mother? You
son of a bitch
.”

“That’s what happens when the woman you love disappears off the face of the world,” Daniels snapped. “You do anything in your power to locate her, even if it means monitoring her mother.”

“I didn’t disappear,” she said coldly. “I
left
. And don’t play that bullshit outrage card—you knew exactly how to contact me.”

“You made it clear you didn’t want me to.”

God, she couldn’t have this talk now. She couldn’t rehash the past with Daniels—it was over and done with. She didn’t love him anymore, hadn’t loved him in a very long time, and she wished he would just accept that.

She gritted her teeth and changed the subject back to the one that mattered. “Is she okay?”

“Your mother’s fine. But someone did pay a visit to her facility, told the nurses they were a friend of the family.”

“Did
Josiah
question the staff?”

He ignored the bitterness in her tone. “Of course. We’re looking at a white male, early thirties, Irish accent.”

Her heart plummeted as if it was weighed down with cement. Definitely Flannery, then.

“They didn’t let him see her, did they?” God. The second she was through with Daniels, she was calling that motherfucking nursing home and ripping every member of that staff a new one.

“No, they didn’t. You’re the only approved person on Vanessa’s visitors’ list, and the nurses enforced that.” He paused. “I posted two extra agents on-site, though.”

“Thank you.” Bailey almost choked on the gratitude. She hated owing this man anything.

Daniels sighed again. “Are you going to tell me what you’re involved in, Tara?”

“Nothing that concerns you.”

“Like hell it doesn’t! I’ve got a rat on my team!”

“Who you wouldn’t have even known about if that person hadn’t run my prints,” she said dryly. “So really, Isaac, you should be thanking
me
. How about we call it square, then?”

“We’re not even close to being
square
, sweetheart.”

“Fine, I’ll toss in some extra goodies for you. I can find out who your rat is—pretty easily, actually.” All she had to do was go through the copies Sean had made of Flannery’s files and it would be easy to locate the person he was blackmailing in the CIA.

“How?” Daniels said suspiciously.

“You don’t need to know. I’ll text you with a name later, tonight most likely.” She swallowed. “Thanks for the heads-up about all this. I’ll take it from here.”

She disconnected the call even as she heard him protesting, but Daniels didn’t call back. He was a smart man, smart enough to know she wouldn’t answer. Besides, if he talked to Gwen like he’d threatened, he’d know sooner rather than later that Bailey was in Dublin. She just hoped he didn’t send any agents her way. The situation was complicated enough as it was without having to worry about CIA spooks shadowing her.

Taking a breath, she headed back to the patio, where Oliver’s concern had only grown in her absence. “What’s wrong?” he demanded.

She didn’t bother pretending otherwise. “You know how you told me I should leave town?”

“Yeah . . .” His eyes flickered with wariness.

“That’s not going to happen.”

“Bailey—”

“Flannery found me,” she cut in.

When Oliver furrowed his brow, she elaborated. “He found me, Ollie.
Me.
He knows my name, my mother’s whereabouts—he sent one of his thugs to her nursing home in Virginia.”

“Shit.”

A cold knot of fear circled her belly. “He probably has a bunch of men stationed outside by now. With orders to kill her if Sean and I don’t do what he wants.”

Oh God. She had to make arrangements to move her mother—
now
. But if Flannery had found her once, the bastard might be able to track her again.

Bailey couldn’t let him. She refused to let some vengeful Irish gangster anywhere near her mother. Vanessa had suffered through enough pain and torture to last a lifetime, and the only saving grace was that she couldn’t even remember it.

But Bailey did. She remembered every gruesome detail of her childhood. Every second of torment she and her mom had endured. Once Vanessa’s condition had deteriorated, Bailey had made sure to keep the woman hidden. It would only confuse and agitate her mom if someone showed up asking questions, if they tried to remind her of events that she’d blessedly forgotten.

Across the table, Oliver stiffened, but Bailey didn’t need his body language to tell her that Sean was approaching. She
sensed
him. She’d always been excruciatingly aware of Sean Reilly’s presence.

Sean reached their table, looming over them with a scowl. “Let’s go.”

She and Oliver rose without a word and followed him to the car at the curb. Ollie got into the passenger seat
next to Sean, while Bailey slid in the back, grabbing the case she’d left under the seat and pulling out her earpiece.

She popped it in her ear as she addressed Sean. “Where are we headed?”

“The loft,” he muttered.

Her hand moved over the earpiece to trigger the mic. “Liam, you copy?”

“Loud and clear, darling.”

“We’re heading back to the loft. Meet us there.”

“No,” Sean said swiftly.

She touched the transmitter again. “Hold on. Possible change of plans.” She met Sean’s hard gaze in the rearview mirror. “Where do you want them to go, then?”

“Tell them to find a hotel near the pub.” He sounded less than enthused as he added, “I’m going to be spending some time there. So if they insist on providing backup, I want them close to O’Hare’s.”

She relayed the message to Liam, then glanced at Sean again. “Does this mean Rabbit bought it?”

Sean nodded.

“So what now?”

“Now we sit in silence while I fucking think about this.”

She hesitated. “Listen, you should know that—”

“Not now, Bailey,” he snapped. “Seriously. I can’t listen to a goddamn thing right now.”

For the rest of the car ride, nobody said another word.

*   *   *

Sean had thought he was pissed off before—and then Bailey told him about her conversation with her former CIA handler, and he understood the true meaning of anger.

“Why in bloody hell didn’t you tell me this before?” he exploded as they faced off in the middle of the loft.

“Because you told me to shut up in the car,” she snapped. “I was waiting for you to calm down.”

“Calm down? Don’t you get it? I won’t
calm down
until you’re out of Dublin.” He shot his twin a sour look. “Same goes for you, man. I don’t want either one of you involved.”

With a loud curse, Oliver got right up in his face, and it was like looking into a mirror. A mirror that was blasting the same enraged expression back at him.

Ollie’s fuming face only made Sean want to slug the guy, and yet at the same time, he felt like throwing his arms around his twin and thanking the frickin’ heavens that Ollie was safe.

Jesus, he didn’t even know what he was feeling anymore. Mad and powerless and so bloody jealous he couldn’t see straight. He hated seeing Oliver and Bailey in the same room together, and he hated himself for hating it because he had no right to feel that way. He was the one who’d torn them apart, which meant it was his responsibility to bring them back together.

He’d had a plan, damn it. Rabbit had
agreed
that Oliver should get Bailey out of town to keep her safe, but now there was no chance in hell of her leaving. Bailey was fiercely protective of the people she loved, and apparently her mother topped that list.

Her
mother
. It drove him fucking crazy that Flannery had learned more about Bailey in twenty-four hours than Sean had in five years.

“I’m not leaving,” Oliver said firmly. “You really think I’d let you handle this alone?”

Sean ran a hand over his scalp, stealing a forlorn look at the punching bag across the room. Wishing he was pounding it with his fists.

He turned back to Bailey, sarcasm creeping in. “Well, the cat’s out of the bag, luv. Are you ready to tell me who you really are, or should I call Flannery and ask him?”

Her gray eyes instantly became shuttered. “I’ll tell you whatever I think is relevant to this op.”

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?”