Still…
“His name is Senechal Villan.”
“To be fair, Villan was once a popular English name and had nothing to do with actual villains. All it meant back then was that someone came from a nondescript village and they weren’t a farmer.”
Bemused, she snapped her head toward Luke. “Seriously? Where did that come from?”
“My travels in medieval England. You’d be amazed how many Villans were willing to give up their souls to stay healthy during plagues.”
Not really. She might have been willing to give up the ole soul depending on the plague. It definitely wasn’t the way she wanted to go into eternity. “I have to wonder. Are you just making shit up or is that for real?”
“It happened.” Helly grinned at her from the backseat. “Luke doesn’t lie. He might withhold information, but he never lies about anything unless he’s screwing with a bad guy.”
Sorcha turned and looked at Luke for confirmation.
He nodded. “I have no fear of consequences. Liars lie to avoid something they’re afraid of, or to pump up their egos.” Clicking his tongue, he winked at her. “My ego is super pumped…in case you haven’t noticed.”
“Oh, I did. You let that flag fly freely.”
“Yes, I do.” He got out, then turned toward Helly. “You staying in the car or coming with us?”
“Too tired to get out and walk, and you won’t let me fly in public. Y’all have fun.” She laid back down on the seat.
Pulling his hair tie out, Luke pushed his sunglasses up on top of his head as he waited for Sorcha to join him on the sidewalk.
Damn… He was something else. There was something unnatural about his charisma and beauty. No man had a right to look that edible.
You have got to get a grip. He’s your partner.
Yes, he was. But this close to him, she really wanted to take a bite out of that luscious hide. It was hard to stay focused with someone who was just so…
Je ne sais quoi. That was the only way to describe him.
Doing her best to ignore his massive sex appeal, Sorcha followed him up the expensive brick walkway to the front door.
Luke rang the bell and they waited.
Given the quality of the home, Sorcha half expected a butler to answer it.
Maybe Lurch.
Instead, it was a humongously tall man around forty, wearing a pair of khaki pants and a striped button down—how he’d found clothes to fit a mountain was really the question of the day she wanted answered. And the word huge…massive understatement. This man towered over Luke and probably weighed twice as much.
Or more.
Damn. Just damn. She hoped she wouldn’t have to chase him down and try to cuff him. It’d probably take half a dozen cops.
In fact, she had the cartoon image in her mind of him slinging officers off and sending them flying. Too bad he had short, curly brown hair because bald would have helped him look even more like a cyclops than he already did.
“Can I help you?” he asked Luke in a rather high-pitched voice that didn’t match his appearance at all.
“You Senechal Villan?”
Suspicion darkened his brown eyes as he swept his gaze over the two of them. “He’s not here. Can I take a message for you?”
Luke let out an evil laugh, then pulled his badge from his pocket and held it up for the man to read. “Don’t lie to me, Sen. I tend to react badly when people do that.”
Rage darkened Senechal’s eyes, but so far, he wasn’t trying to kill them or run so she counted that as a victory. He jerked his chin at her. “You Five-O, too?”
