Kenney, Laina - Overexposed [DIG Security 3] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) (3 page)

Avelyn felt her face flush, but she didn’t offer any objection. She was hungry. There was no denying that. Her body had just announced it loud and clear.

She turned to Locke, and her eyes settled on the scar above his eyebrow. There was another long thin scar on his jaw. The obvious scars weren’t enough to detract from the appeal of his movie-star face. If anything, they added a sort of rakish charm and made him look like a man who would fight for what he believed in. The world needed more of that kind of man.

“No luggage, huh?” Sam asked.

She shook her head no, still looking at Locke.

“You must have been in a real hurry to leave Ireland. I’ve never seen a woman who traveled without at least a change of clothes,” Sam said.

Avelyn cringed in embarrassment. She knew her clothes were a mess. She would never travel like this except under dire circumstances. She switched her heavy ring back to the correct finger and turned it around and around. It was a soothing habit, and she was in need of some comfort, however small.

“We’ll take you shopping before we leave Dallas,” Sam offered.

Her stomach grumbled.

“After a snack,” he added.

Gentle fingers tilted her face up for Locke’s inspection, and his mouth hardened into a thin line. “You didn’t get this bruise from another lady, little one. Half your face is purple under all that makeup. Does your Uncle Conn know who did this, and is the guy still breathing?”

Avelyn pulled away. “He’s still breathing, as far as I know.”

Her voice was cool, but she couldn’t help it. She didn’t want to answer his questions.

Holding her gaze, Locke pulled out his cell phone and hit a button.

“Yeah, Grange, we’ve made the pickup at Dallas. Let Conn know. No, she didn’t bring a suitcase, just some kind of really big purse. Sam and I are taking her out to grab a bite then back to the office for medical assessment and debriefing.”

He paused a moment listening to the person on the other end of the call.

“Yeah, well, she’s pale, and her face is bruised. There’s a bandage under her ear. Her movements are a bit stiff, but she’s got a streak of sass. She’s okay, or she will be.”

Avelyn liked his choice of words. From a man like this, who didn’t seem to care much what anyone thought, it was nearly a compliment.

He listened on the phone for a minute more then looked away from her. “Ask me that later,” he muttered. “Bye.”

Sam touched her arm to move her to the side of the concourse out of the way of the other passengers, and she flinched. She couldn’t help it. Sam had his hand right on the bruise where the other man’s hand had been.

“She has other injuries we can’t see,” Sam said quietly. He and his brother shared a look, and then they were hustling her out of the building and toward a parked car. It looked like a racecar, shiny black and low to the ground, with a silver stripe down the side.

At the car, Sam climbed in the back seat with Avelyn, and Locke slid behind the wheel. When they pulled out and started driving, she was fascinated by the purr of the engine and vaguely alarmed by the fact that he was driving on the opposite side of the road. Getting used to that difference would take some time.

Sam rummaged around in the seat pouch and produced a tube of ointment. He handed the tube to Avelyn.

“Arnica,” he said.

The word meant nothing to her, and she waited, watching his face.

“It’s for your cheek and under your eye. It’ll help the bruising. I’ve used it before, and Locke used arnica or horse liniment all the time after his rodeo competitions. He always had a bruise somewhere. It really works.” His earnest expression and wide navy-blue eyes made a pretty picture, but she wasn’t falling for it.

Locke used horse liniment on himself? Avelyn shook her head. Even that small motion hurt.

“It was agony to put makeup on my cheek,” she said through clenched teeth. “I’m not touching it again.”

“That’s okay, I’ll do it for you, sweetheart. I’ll be so gentle it’ll feel like a butterfly’s wings.”

He gave her a soft, coaxing smile. Oh, he was a charmer. And she already found him attractive. She would have to be careful, or he’d talk her out of her clothes in no time.

“No, thank you,” she said firmly. Her cheek was already throbbing. Touching it would only make it worse. She would manage without his help.

The car made a sharp sideways move, and they were off the road and in a huge parking lot and driving up a narrow lane to stop at a tall post behind a line of other cars.

Avelyn watched in fascination as Locke rolled down his window and rattled off an incomprehensible series of instructions. When he was finished, a disembodied voice said, “Drive through, please.”

They rolled to a stop beside a small window, and Locke exchanged cash for two big bags and a tray of drinks. Whatever it was in those bags smelled heavenly in the confines of the car, and her mouth began to water.

Locke deposited it all on the passenger seat and drove down the road for a few blocks until he came to a small park bench in the shade of a towering oak.

Sam helped Avelyn out of the car, and Locke carried the drinks and the bags. They sat on the bench with Avelyn in the middle, and Locke started handing out food.

“Chips!” Avelyn exclaimed and started gobbling down the hot, salty deep-fried potatoes from the small red box.

“That’s so British. Calling them chips, I mean,” Sam said, and his smile was indulgent. “We call them fries here.”

“Mmm. Fries,” she said and stuffed more into her mouth. She knew the men were watching, she could feel their eyes on her, but for once she didn’t care. There was no time to worry about manners. She was starved!

Locke passed her a tall drink, and she gulped some liquid through the big straw before returning her attention to the chips—no, fries. Locke handed her another box, and when she opened it, she found a double-decker hamburger with pickles, lettuce, and a creamy sauce. She devoured that as well then licked the salt and sauce off her fingers. She finished it off by draining the last gurgle of the soft drink and then stuffing the waste papers into the empty drink container.

She finally looked up to see both men, their food still wrapped, watching her with two pairs of intense blue eyes.

Oh.

“Sorry,” she mumbled. She could feel the heat rising in her cheeks. “I’ve been traveling for a long time, you know.”

Locke passed her his box of fries, and Sam handed over a small rectangular apple pie. She tried to protest, but the men pushed the extra food into her hands.

“I wouldn’t feel like much of a man if I ate while you sat there hungry,” Locke said quietly. “You just keep eating until you feel satisfied, honey, and don’t worry about good manners. Sam and I grew up poor, and with five boys in the house, we were hungry as often as not. We both know what that feels like.”

Sam nodded once but said nothing.

Avelyn swallowed against the sudden lump in her throat. They weren’t blaming her. Her anxiety faded even as her eyes prickled at their understanding. She ate everything they gave her until her stomach was pleasantly full.

Sam produced a bottle and shook out two little pills.

“Light painkillers,” he said. “You can get them over the counter. No prescription required.”

“Thank you,” she said and swallowed them with the last of Locke’s drink. She had taken some aspirin provided by a flight attendant on the flight out of Dublin several hours ago but hadn’t taken anything since, and she was aching from head to toe.

This time when they got into the sleek little car, Avelyn was the sole occupant of the back seat. The adrenaline that had kept her moving was evaporating, and true exhaustion was creeping in. She wrapped the old shawl around her shoulders in spite of the heat and let her eyelids fall. It was good to be warm and well fed.

After a few minutes, the men started talking.

“Is she asleep?” The slightly darker voice was Locke.

“Yeah, or as good as. Did you see how she ate? She was running on empty. She must not have eaten at all today. She’s small already. She can’t afford to do that.”

“When we get to San Antonio, we’ll get her checked out by a doctor.”

“Do you think she should talk to a female doctor or maybe that medic at D.I.G.? What’s her name, the older lady? Maybe…” Sam’s voice trailed away.

The response was a snarl like an angry dog. “I’d like to get my hands on the bastard who put marks on that milk-white skin. She’s such a little thing. When Conn sees those bruises on her face, he’s going to walk out and commit murder.”

“I might help him.”

Avelyn frowned and shifted in her seat, but she couldn’t pry her eyes open. That couldn’t be Sam. That voice sounded far too bloodthirsty for the image he projected of an amiable urban cowboy.

“She’s not quite asleep, yet.”

Ah, that was Sam’s voice.

The voices settled into a peaceful conversation about training horses. Soon a friendly argument ensued about an old truck that Sam kept calling Methuselah, to lazy protests from his brother. Avelyn drifted off into a deep sleep where she dreamed of running footsteps and cold Dublin rain.

Chapter 4

Sam watched Locke stalk into the store and suppressed the urge to laugh. Locke was acting like a shopping trip was worse than facing down a lunatic with a gun or clinging to the back of an enraged bull for eight seconds, two things that he knew Locke had already done more than once.

He had told Sam in clear terms that he was “unsuitable and uninterested” in picking out clothes for a young woman, but Sam was betting that Locke would feel differently about it once he got going. Once he got his hands on the smooth fabrics and started thinking about those garments on the sweet woman in their backseat, his opinion would change. For all his gruff denials, his brother was a man deeply affected by beauty in all its forms. Long flowing hair and a flashing smile got his attention every time.

Sam snickered. Hell, Locke would probably end up buying a dress for the girl. Locke had no idea how predictable he was when it came to women. Sam was banking on it.

He licked his lips. One kiss from this woman had fired Sam up from head to toe. He was hard and aching, and he wanted more. He wanted to keep her.

* * * *

Locke walked into the store and looked around then headed for the women’s clothing department. He couldn’t quite believe that Sam was the one staying in the car with the sleeping Avelyn while he was shopping for clothing. Sam should be doing this.

Locke blew out a breath. No way would he be able to find the right sizes or styles. It was a mission set up to fail. Shopping was his personal idea of hell.

He approached the first woman he saw wearing the store’s signature blue vest.

“Women’s clothing,” he stated. “I need two complete changes of clothes for a young woman, slender, and about this high.” He put his hand on his chest to indicate his estimation of her diminutive height.

The older woman looked at him.

“It might be easier if she came in herself to try things on,” she said.

Locke grimaced. “She’s asleep in the back seat. I didn’t want to wake her.”

The store clerk asked, “What size is she?”

He thought of Avelyn’s too-slender frame. “I’m not sure. She’s almost thin. What size would a college girl wear?” Locke knew immediately from the look on the woman’s face that it was the wrong thing to say.

“A college girl!”

“Uh, no, she’s not that young. Well, she’s young, but she’s small. She’s a small adult.”

A suspicious frown crossed the clerk’s face.

Locke was annoyed with himself. Surely he wasn’t going to let himself be intimidated by a clerk in a department store.

“Never mind,” he said and turned away as another woman approached the clerk.

He left them behind and moved through the department with a purpose, draping clothes over his arm as he went. A pair of skinny jeans and a pink and white Western-cut shirt came first, then a couple of small T-shirts in white followed by a white cotton sundress with a matching knit sweater. He grabbed a few more items from different racks and moved on.