Page 36 of Wicked Ruin

“One night,” I whisper in her ear. “Give me one night.”

Chapter Eight

BRIDGET

“We could get a hotel?”

Declan doesn't have a poker face to save his life. Every emotion writes itself plainly across his features. I mean, I’ve seen him school his features, just not around me. Never around me.

Maybe if I offered myself to the McCarthys outright… Maybe if I could come up with enough money to be useful on my own terms… Maybe if I could make a convincing case that having two Kavanagh sisters embedded in the same family is an asset, not a liability.

But it isn't true, and I know it. So does he.

I could tell myself we never pursued anything because we were just friends and it was always uncomplicated. That sounds excellent. It's also a lie.

Declan parks his car a few miles from the hotel and calls a taxi. It’s almost like he’s planned this out.

“Sure about this?” he whispers as the taxi pulls up. “I can tell them to take you home. I can tell them⁠—”

“I'm sure.” I interrupt, then lean in and kiss him. He kisses me back with his hand behind my head, bracing me, his lips gentle and tender as the cab pulls to a stop.

It only takes a few minutes. In the back of the cab, his hand is warm against my thigh. My head is on his shoulder. How can something feel like we're on the verge of forever and the verge of goodbye at the same time?

The taxi drops us off at a hotel I've never been to. Outside the hotel entrance, a man is leaning against the wall smoking. Dark jacket, cap pulled low. Declan goes still.

“Everything alright?” I ask in a low whisper.

The man turns, stomps out his cigarette, and walks away, hands tucked in his pockets.

“It’s nothing,” Declan says, shaking his head with a rueful smile. “Seeing ghosts. Come, lass.”

He opens the door, his hand warm on the small of my back.

My shoes click on the polished floor as we walk hand in hand through the lobby without hesitation.

“James and Mary Murphy,” he tells the woman at the desk. “How much?”

She gives him a price that sounds like a lot to me, but he doesn't even blink. “How many nights?” she asks, as if she doesn't notice we have no bags and doesn't see that there's no way we're spending more than one night here. She doesn't ask for any ID either.

“Just the one,” he says quietly. He pays with banknotes from his wallet.

I press my lips together. I have a strong urge to giggle my arse off. He glances over his shoulder at me and raises an eyebrow.

“Something funny, Mary?”

“Not a thing, love,” I say with the sweetest smile I can manage.

Then she's handing him a key card, and he's pulling me along. I'm trying to keep up with his quick steps through the lobby when my phone buzzes with a text from Erin.

Erin

All right. Tell me when you get in safe. I'm exhausted and heading to bed.

I text her back.

I’m in safe. Good night, love you.

Even though I'm deliberately misleading her, it's not entirely a lie.