Free The Navy SEAL’s Holiday Fling: Ballybeg Bad Boys, Book 3 by Zara Keane Page A

bad foot, and grabbed the counter to break her fall.
    One of the policemen grabbed the intruder in a rugby tackle. A punching match ensued, but the man with the baton proved no match for his opponent. He flailed, spluttering protests, and landing the occasional feeble punch on the policeman’s back.
    When the second policeman hit him with a stun gun, the man jerked several times, and then fell limp.
    Jill slumped to the ground, tears streaming down her face. “Is he unconscious?”
    “Oh, yeah.” A broad grin spread across the second policeman’s face as he slapped handcuffs around the intruder. “Well done, Ms. Bekele. You helped capture The Ghost.”

9
    T hree hours after The Ghost’s capture, two plain-clothes police personnel drove Jill home to Ballybeg.
    “Sure you’re okay, Ms. Bekele?” Sergeant Walsh asked.
    Jill gave a weak nod, still struggling to regain her composure after the incident in the shop. “I’m fine, thank you. There’s really no need for you to stay overnight.”
    The policewoman smiled. “Inspector Tobin insists. We won’t invade your privacy, but we’ll be right outside the door if you need us.”
    “All I need at the moment is a hot shower and sleep.”
    The policeman driving—Garda Toomey, if Jill remembered correctly—eased the vehicle to a halt outside her cottage. “Bit isolated out here,” he said, eyeing the fields surrounding Jill’s home.
    She shrugged. “Not really. My nearest neighbor is only a few minutes’ walk down the road. I prefer living on the outskirts of Ballybeg rather than in the town center.”
    Garda Toomey killed the engine. “If you give me your house key, I’ll check that no one is lurking inside.”
    Jill slipped her key out of her pocket and handed it to him.
    After the young policeman had gotten out of the car and ambled up the path to the house, Jill turned to Sergeant Walsh. “I hope you two don’t freeze out here tonight. You’re welcome to come inside if you get cold.”
    “Don’t worry about us. We’ll be grand with the car heater on.” The policewoman smiled. “I bet your boss is glad to have the case wrapped up before Christmas—no pun intended.”
    Despite the bad joke, Jill laughed. “I imagine both our bosses will be celebrating tonight. This hasn’t been positive publicity for the Blush Shoppe brand.”
    “I heard the shop was packed today,” the woman added. “I’m betting Blush Shoppe will do just fine.”
    Privately, Jill agreed with her. The cynical part of her thought the Irish launch couldn’t have gone better—aided and assisted by The Ghost. The unforeseen delays with the shop’s renovations had delayed the launch, cutting into their pre-holiday profits. Courtesy of the publicity generated by the attacks, Blush turnover was through the roof. Definitely not what The Ghost had intended.
    After a few minutes, Garda Toomey returned to the car and handed Jill her key. “No one’s there, and everything looks fine. I’ve locked and bolted the back door. Make sure you do the same with the front.”
    “Will do,” Jill said, opening the car door. “Thanks for the lift.”
    “For the woman who helped capture The Ghost, any time.”
    The Ghost… Jill shivered. Despite knowing the man had been arrested at Blush Shoppe, she had a lingering sense of unease. Probably the dual shocks of yesterday’s bomb and today’s encounter with a terrorist had shattered her nerves. A good night’s sleep would do her the power of good.
    When Jill let herself into the house, her nostrils twitched. Aftershave. Funny, she hadn’t noticed Garda Toomey’s aftershave in the car. Liam? But his scent was subtler than this and wouldn’t have lingered for twenty-four hours. She blinked and gave herself a mental shake. Yeah, her nerves were shot. The aftershave must be Garda Toomey’s.
    After she’d locked and bolted the door, she sagged against it and squeezed her eyes shut. Liam would be at the airport by now, waiting to board his