Page 100 of Player
I’m pushed to the side by the old white-haired man who collects the bets and arranges the fights. He storms by me then gives Finn a swift kick in the leg.
“Ouch,” Finn mutters.
“Mad Dog? MAD DOG! You bloody gombeen. You barely scraped through the first two bouts.”
“Won both, didn’t I?” Finn resumes doing sit-ups, nonchalant as can be, which further irritates the man.
“You deserve the beating that’s coming. The fight is posted, you bleedin’ eegit. No chance of switching things around.”
I frown in confusion. “You didn’t arrange this fight?”
The old man glares at me. “He did.”
“Finn did?” I demand.
We turn in unison toward the man in question and the old man resumes his attack. “O’Brien has money on you, hear me? If you lose—”
“So, O’Brien bet on Finn?”
“Everyone likes a sure thing.”
It’s my turn to glare at Finn.
The old man crouches down so he’s eye-level with Finn. “Hear me loud and clear.” He pokes his finger into Finn’s cheek. “Do. Not. Lose. Or I’ll kill you before O’Brien can get to you himself.” Straightening, he shoots me a parting glare before storming off.
“You have a way with people.”
“That’s what I do best.” His eyes gleam with mischief as he says it. If I weren’t so sick to my stomach, I’d find him amusing.
“Seems everyone is counting on you to win.”
“You worried I won’t?”
“Yes,” I reply honestly.
He rolls to his feet, his movements smooth and controlled.
“Think about the job. If I win, I’ll move on to fight the South African. O’Brien won’t miss that fight, and neither will Mrs. Ogdenhayer. Whatever information is to be had will be ripe for the picking.”
I stare at Finn. Clever, cunning,complexFinn. This version of him is a far cry from the man I tried to seduce in Mexico City. He’s something far different, far beyond the scope of my comprehension, far more complicated than he projects. Makes sense. Isn’t that why the CIA hired him?
Doing his job.
As are you.
“I heard O’Brien is moving the uranium from the docks to the warehouse tonight.”
Finn grins at me.
I smile back. “Fiona’s Johnny is busy unloading cargo from lorries. That’s why O’Brien isn’t here to collect on his bet.”
With a lightening quick grab, I’m pulled into his body then hoisted off my feet. “Brilliant. That’s what you are.” He swings me around then repositions me on the floor.
I’m breathless. Speechless. Happy in a way a woman is when her boyfriend looks at her in a way that says, “You’re the one for me.”
He leans down and, quick as can be, steals a kiss from my lips. It’s butterfly light. Brief. Yet I arch into him, needing more.
Our eyes connect.
