Page 20 of Devil's Luck

“They didn’t take me because of anything you did,” she says, shaking her head again. “I came across some files at work that showed the laundering money for some LLC based in Laredo. Apparently the files they tried to keep hidden got mixed in with some other clients files, then when I started digging they must have gotten an alert somehow. Maybe in the computer system, I don’t know.”

I was right. They are, were, involved with the cartel. Well, that ended today.

“So it wasn’t Hector who took you to the warehouse?”

“No. I don’t even know how they got me there.”

“How did they drug you?” I keep my hands still, holding her waist to stop myself from punching anything and scaring her again.

“A needle of something,” she reaches up and touches the side of her neck.

Gently brushing her hair over her shoulder, I see a small red bump just above her collarbone.

“Corrin,” I meet his eyes in the rearview mirror, “have the doctor meet us at the house. I want her blood drawn so we know what they used.”

I look back down Nola and realize now is the time I need to tell her what my heart has been feeling for a long time. I need to give her the words my mind has been saying, but I haven’t been man enough to say out loud. That ends now.

“I love you, mo fhíorghra.”

“What does that mean?” She stays burrowed in my arms but looks up and our eyes lock.

A single tears forms in her right eyes then rolls down her cheek. I catch it with my thumb and wipe it away.

“Mo fhíorghra means‘my true love’in Irish.”

“I love you too, mo fhíorghra.” She whispers the words against my lips.

The moment our lips touch, time stands still. My heart drumming in my chest is the only sound I hear. Her breath mingles with mine as our tongues gently swirl around each other’s, not fighting for control, rather dancing gently as we make our way home.

I wrap Nola in my arms again and just feel her. Here, like this, she’s safe again. My heart is whole again.

CHAPTER NINE

NOLA

“I love you too, Mama. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

Hanging up the phone, I collapse back in the lounge chair in the corner of mine and Fergus’s bedroom. As I wait for him to comeout of our closet to tell me where we’re going on this mystery date he won’t tell me about, I called my parents just to check in.

My parents and brother Tony run a horse rescue sanctuary about ninety minutes northwest of Houston, and that’s where I grew up. I haven’t been home in a couple months, even before I moved in with Fergus, but I talk to one or both of my parents several times a week. While I have not told them about being abducted and tied up, because that would send everyone into a tailspin, they do know who Fergus is and what he does.

They have met him two times before, both at Remi and Tadhg’s wedding as well as baby Máire’s baptism, but they were both shocked when I informed them of our new relationship status.

I expected a lecture from my Dad about how Fergus wasn’t the right man for me because of his criminal life, but I got the exact opposite. Chet Taylor is a rough and tumble horse man, and I think I’ve only seen him shed a tear a handful of times in my whole life, but I saw him swipe his cheek as he tried to hide it by turning his face away from the phone screen as we were video chatting.

“As long as you’re happy and safe, Nola. Your mama and I are happy for you.”

“Just don’t wait too long to bring that handsome fella home to visit, Nola-girl.” My mama, Sarah, added. “Maybe we can even get him up on a horse so you two can go riding together. I know Duke misses you.”

Duke is my horse . . . kind of.

He’s a twelve year old Palamino who was brought to the ranch after being rescued from a farmer who was neglecting and abusing his animals. I happened to be at the ranch the day he arrived, and we clicked from the second I clipped the lead to his halter and coerced him off the trailer with the carrot stick in my other hand. Now that he’s healthy and strong again, I try to visit as often as I can, and Duke and I go for a trail ride every chance we can.

Now that Mama put the idea in my head, I’d love to get Fergus on a horse soon. Just imagining him up in a saddle, a cowboy hat tucked low over his brows as we rode around the land I grew up on—yummy.

“Are you ready for our date, mo fhíorghra?” Opening the closet door a crack, Fergus sticks his head out and wakes me from my cowboy inspired daydream.

“We’ve been on dates before,” I reply with a chuckle as I get to my feet and head in his direction to investigate why he’s hiding his body from me.

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