Page 91 of Illusive
“Shut up.” Ireland reached around him and laid her cheek on his chest, giving him a gentle hug. He embraced her in return, and she felt his lips press a kiss to the crown of her head.
“I take it you like how it’s shaping up,” he murmured, his hands running up and down her back. “I’m glad.”
Tears filled her eyes, and she let them fall, feeling them wet his shirt and then his skin. He murmured to her in Cajun French, and her breath caught on a silent sob.
“You have no idea what it means to me that you would do this, Ronan.” She pulled back and cupped his chiseled jaw in her hand. “Because I know what it means toyouto do this.”
His smile, so easy and open, so charming, made him impossibly even more gorgeous. Her heart squeezed in her chest.
“I even enjoyed it,” he admitted. “I’ve never worked on creating new music.”
Ireland kissed him. Once. Twice. “Well, this song suggests you have a talent for it.”
Ronan’s hands slid to her buttocks and gave the softest of squeezes. “I’ve actually never really worked on creating or building anything. I acquire and sell. Fast, easy money, and I enjoy the hunt. But it’s been invigorating trying to find ways to fix what’s not working and to explore new avenues.”
“I don’t know how you exist. You’re like a dream to me sometimes.”
Standing, he walked her back to her stool and urged her to sit, then bent to pick up her sling and carefully put it back on her. “And a nightmare,non?If I could change anything, it would be the circumstances of how we met.”
“Maybe.” She kept her gaze on him as he sat again. “He doesn’t think it’ll make any difference to you, but I talked to my father today, and he told me he regrets what you’ve suffered and any part he has in it.”
His jaw tightened for a moment. “He has every part in it,cher. And he actually could fix what he did, if he really gave a shit.”
She sighed heavily. “He doesn’t regret what he did, only the impact on you.”
“Well, then… They’re empty words, aren’t they?”
The delight she’d felt only a moment before faded into profound sadness.
“Let’s not talk about this.” His tone was suddenly brisk. “It does no good to do so. I need to call the detectives, Ireland.”
“Why?”
“You’ll overhear what I have to say.”
“Their business cards are on the coffee table.” Ireland started to stand.
“Stay here. I’ll get them.” Reaching down, he picked up Blizzard and hefted the cat over his shoulder. Bliz’s purrs picked up volume, and the cat looked at Ireland with immense satisfaction in his vivid blue eyes.
Watching Ronan move with fluid, powerful grace into the living room, Ireland shifted restlessly. “Maybe you should have Jules with you when you call.”
“I don’t want to wait.” He collected the cards and returned to her, choosing to stand at the island rather than sit. With his phone on the countertop, he activated the speaker and typed the number on his screen. The other line began to ring.
“This is Jang,” the detective answered.
Ireland listened with growing horror as Ronan told the detective about what he had overheard and the conversation he’d had with Gail. It made her feel sick inside to hear that the few weeks she’d dated and slept with Graham, he’d been cheating—with his girlfriend’s encouragement. Yeah, she’d just been having fun, and it had never been serious, but it deepenedthe betrayal. It wasn’t just Graham who’d thought she was an easy mark; his girlfriend had, too.
Worse, the way he described Gail’s maliciously cheerful taunts caused her pulse to race.
“Listen, Boudreaux.” Jang’s voice was hard and cold. “You should not be running around the city stalking possible suspects! Leave the investigation to us. We know how to do our jobs.”
“Were you even considering Teller’s girlfriend?” he bit out.
“I’m not going to discuss the details of the investigation with you. And if you interfere or otherwise get in the way, I’ll arrest you.”
He muttered a stream of words in Cajun French that Ireland didn’t understand.
“What was that?” Jang said crossly. “Speak up.”
