Bassist Instinct (The Rocker Series #2) (30 page)

“Blueberry,” he hissed softly, his head hitting the floor as he tried to relax. Every cell in his body was screaming at him to keep going but he knew he couldn’t. Tess jerked away and looked down at him.

“I’m sorry, I guess I got a little carried away,” she said quietly and tried to move off of his chest, but he hadn’t let her go yet. “The thrill of victory and all that. I’m horribly embarrassed.” She knew her face would be bright red. He lifted his hand to her cheek and ran his thumb over it. The smoothness of her skin was like nothing he had ever felt before.

“Don’t be,” his voice was deep and his expression kind. “I can’t do this, Tess, but don’t think for a split second that I don’t
want
to do this. Do you understand?” She nodded. “When you walked down the hall in the hospital that day, this was what I’ve been thinking about ever since. But your granddaddy’d skin me alive.” They grinned at each other in mild embarrassment about the image he’d presented. Glass suddenly shattered next to them and he was abruptly on top of her, protecting her body with his own before she registered what had happened.

“Gas!” He was on his feet and looking around, assessing the threat. He grabbed her shirt off the floor and using it as an oven mitt, threw the canister back out the broken window it came through. He tossed her shirt to her and grabbed his gun off the mantle. Like a carefully choreographed dance, he spun and shot the face that appeared at the window to toss the canister back in. The shot went right between the eyes. “Cover your face, go upstairs and press the panic button.”

Tess hesitated.

“Do it!” He yelled and she sprinted up the stairs, taking them two at a time, coughing, tears streaming down her face from the gas. At the top she heard another gunshot and hoped Sam was the shooter. She turned to go into her room and there was a man wearing a gas mask lunging for her. She spun away as he grabbed for her and kicked at the back of his leg, a move Sam taught her not an hour before. Then she pushed him away from her using his own momentum, which put him through the stair rail to land head first on the steps below. She heard his muffled cry abruptly stop as he hit, then he tumbled, as if boneless, down to sprawl on the stairs. His neck had clearly broken. She ran to the bathroom and threw up everything in her stomach.

After a few seconds or minutes, she didn’t know how long, she realized she hadn’t yet pressed the panic button, but she did have her phone.

“Lally, we’ve been attacked, send help,” she whispered into the phone to her grandfather.

“Where are you?” He was no nonsense when he needed to be, she loved that.

“I’m in the guest bathroom upstairs, Sam’s still downstairs holding them off, I think. There’s tear gas, or something. It burns like crazy.”

“We’ll be right there, Mite, lock the door, wet a towel and put it to the threshold, climb into the tub and don’t let anyone in,” he said and she laughed a little hysterically. There was no way she’d let anyone in.

“Lally…”

“Hang on, my love, I have a team on the way, mere seconds out.” Someone rattled the door and Tess stopped breathing.

“Tess, you in there?”

“Sam!” She got up and opened the door. Tess was so glad he was alive she jumped into his arms.

“It’s okay, baby,” he said holding her close and then pulled away and pushed the hair gently from her face to look at her. “You okay?” She nodded and took a huge gulp of air. “You took that guy out on the stairs?” She nodded again and started to feel the nausea coming back. “That’s my girl.” He kissed her forehead.

“Are you okay?” She asked. Tears were streaming down his face from the tear gas, but he smiled.

“Yeah baby, how ‘bout you?” He looked her body over for injury, but she seemed intact. He brought her into his arms and just held her. Any normal woman would be shaking like a leaf by now, hell, he was a little shaky.

“I thought they were going to kill you.”

“Nah, I eat those kinds of guys for breakfast.” She chuckled into his shoulder and then she went stiff as a board and pulled away from him. She looked at him guiltily.

“Lally,” she whispered and reached down to pick up her phone. “Lally?”

“I’m here, we’re pulling up now, stay where you are so we can clear the building.”

“Okay,” she said and Sam squeezed her hand.

“Here,” he said and handed her shirt to her. She had forgotten she was half dressed. Putting it on quickly, she heard the voices below shouting “Clear,” as they swept the house.

“This is going to mean even less freedom, isn’t it?” Sam chuckled feeling perversely proud of her. This woman was strong, she’d be okay.

“Yup,” he said and stood in front of her as the door burst open.

***

Liam stood uncomfortably in Fiona’s kitchen, Sam stood at parade rest behind him, his eyes red rimmed and swollen. Tate had Fiona on his lap in one of the hard chairs at the table and he was running his fingers through her hair. Tate’s casual sensuality with Fiona bothered Liam, even though he knew it was ridiculous. He’d always been the one she turned to, now she had a philandering, rock star, pretty boy boyfriend, it rankled. It rankled even more that she looked happier now than he’d ever seen her.

Always a solemn child, and a serious adult, Fiona wasn’t one for giggling, or even laughter. Her wit had always been very dry and usually very quietly delivered, but Tate seemed to bring the silliness out of her. It was about time, he thought, he just wished he could have done it when she was four, newly motherless and sent to live with her previously unknown father and his resentful family.

Aside from his unsavory reputation with women, and the fact that he was sleeping with his little sister, Liam had nothing against Tate. The man was amusing and quick thinking. He had saved Fiona’s life several times now, he obviously made her happy, and was astonishingly devoted to her. Never mind the cool factor of his profession as rock star. Liam just didn’t think Fiona should depend upon him, Liam understood himself enough to know that he was jealous, but the guy was going to take off and break her heart, and there was nothing Liam could do to prevent it.

“We’re moving you to a safe house until this is over,” Liam said. Fiona shook her head.

“I can’t just up and leave,” she began but Liam stopped her by lifting a hand.

“You will pack one bag. Do not bring your cellphone or computer. Your classes are over, it’s time to go.”

“Liam, you’re not listening,” she said and looked at Sam for the first time. He looked like he’d been crying.

“Fiona, they attacked Tess last night,” Sam said.

“The fuck!” Tate stood abruptly, nearly dumping Fiona to the floor but for the grip he had on her. “Where is she?”

“She’s okay, man. She’s at the safe house now,” Sam said and Fiona and Tate hugged each other.

“Do go pack, aye?” He put a hank of her hair behind her ear as he looked into her dear face. “We should have done this ages ago.”

Fiona nodded. “Tell us what happened first,” she said to Sam and Liam. Liam gestured to Sam to tell the story.

“They gassed us at about 11:00 last night,” Sam started and Fiona gasped and stepped closer to Tate. “I shot one, and put another one in the hospital while Tess fought with the third guy upstairs.” Sam hesitated, but then continued. “She broke his neck.” Fiona gasped again and Tate hugged her to him while making fists with his hands.

“Oh my God!” Fiona said.

“Does her mam know?” Tate asked.

“They are in transit as we speak,” Sam said.

“Pack Fifi, these guys are getting desperate,” Liam said and Fiona nodded as she and Tate started to walk from the room. “Tate, can we have a word?” Tate stopped at the door.

“I’ll be right up,” he said to Fiona and turned to look at Liam. “I have a feeling you’re going to say something I don’t want to hear.”

“Yup,” Liam said.

Chapter Twelve

As Fiona was being driven around in circles until they were quite sure no one followed them to the safe house, Tate was walking into the hospital where the recovering Russian was under guard.

Tate wore a watch cap and sunglasses and felt like an eejit because it was raining and dark. Connor was the one people recognized mostly, but they could take no chances today. He took the elevator up to the fifth floor and walked down the north wing of rooms. He nodded at the guard on duty outside the room, and slipped in quietly. The man on the bed did not move, but he knew someone was there. Tate stood so he could see his face. Tate took off his hat and glasses.

“You know who I am?” He asked the Russian handcuffed to the hospital bed. The man nodded. “Good. I happen to know where something is that you want. I’m sick of this shite, we just want to be left alone, do you get me?” Tate looked nervously at the door and then back at the man.

“Yes, I understand.” The Russian spoke deliberately.

“I just want to be rid of it, and to be rid of you lot. Think of something that can be mutually beneficial to both parties.” Tate stepped closer to the bed and handed the Russian a slip of paper with a phone number on it. “Don’t waste too much time about it, aye?” Tate walked out, put his hat and glasses back on and jumped into the first taxi he saw.

“How’d it go?” Liam looked at him in the rear view mirror.

“Jaysus,” Tate squawked, surprised to see Liam. “I near shat meself.” Liam laughed.

“No wonder Fifi is laughing so much, you’re very funny.”

“I’m so happy you’re amused. I can’t believe you call that elegant woman Fifi, she’s the least likely Fifi on the planet.”

“That’s why I call her Fifi,” Liam said simply, and it made sense. “How’d it go?”

“Your man looked interested, and I know I looked sincere, mostly ‘cause I bloody am. I
am
sick of this shite, I
do
want to be left alone. When this is done I’m taking your sister away from this bloody town.”

“She won’t leave, Tate.”

“What?”

“She won’t leave her work and her home and swan off to wherever with you. Fiona’s a real person, not one of your groupies.”

“Feck off, McBride.” There was no passion in Tate’s words, and Liam knew enough not to be too offended. Tate had assumed she
would
swan off with him. He was Tate Dylan. What an ego he had on him, too.

Mary didn’t have to leave because Razz stuck by her in Dublin as much as he possibly could. Genna didn’t leave her life entirely because those two seemed to split the difference and made it work. Christie and Ryan were fused at the hip, they were always together, even after the twins appeared.

His closest friends each did something different. Could he be loved as much by a woman as his three best mates were? Could he be satisfied with just the one? Could he and Fiona find a happy medium? Especially when it was scaring the shite out of him that he was even thinking along those lines. Tate had never
not
known what to do when it came to women. He had a killer instinct. He knew how to please them and he knew when it was time to say goodbye.

When it came down to it, he didn’t want to say goodbye. He’d been a live in the moment kind of guy for decades, now suddenly all he could think about was his future, and Fiona kept popping up in his plans for one. He’d trusted his gut for years and years, why would he stop trusting it now? Because his gut was scaring the hell out of him, that’s why.

“Has she got a piano?” He asked Liam.

“Huh?” Liam was miles away, too.

“In the safe house, is there a piano?”

“No,” he said. “I didn’t even think of it.”

“Find me a piano store,” Tate said and put his head back on the seat rest.

***

Sam drove the SUV into the garage of the house in Reston, Virginia and killed the engine. Tate hopped out of the car and went to the back and Sam met him there. At the piano store Tate left Liam and joined Sam, leaving by a back door, just in case. Tate would do whatever it took to keep Fiona safe, even if it meant driving around in circles for hours instead of being with her.

Together they pulled the cumbersome cardboard box out of the back and turned it on its side to get it through the door to the kitchen. Tess and Fiona stood there with mugs of tea in their hands and looks of concern on their faces.

“What took you so long?” Fiona asked. Tate looked at her worried face and gave her a devilish grin.

“I was getting my girl a wee gift,” he leaned over and kissed her cheek as he passed. Fiona couldn’t help her excited grin.

“The Irish have a gift for exaggeration, Tess,” Fiona said looking at the
wee
gift they were putting down on the living room floor.

“And sarcasm,” Tess said.

“We like to call it irony,” Tate said taking a pocket knife from his pocket and opening the cardboard to reveal a keyboard. Fiona gasped with pleasure.

“Tate! You wonderful man, I could kiss you,” she said excitedly. Tate dropped the cardboard he was holding and picked her up off her feet and carried her up the stairs as she squealed and laughed. “Tate-o!”

“Which room, love?” Fiona stopped squirming, things just got serious.

“End of the hall on the right.”