Free Midnight Captive by Elle Kennedy Page A

on sight. Her standoffish attitude had been a challenge, triggering the urge to win over the elusive Bailey.
    To make her his.
    But he’d failed. Instead of warming up to him, she’d run straight into his brother’s arms.
    “I was doing just fine before you showed up,” he muttered. “I got out of the bank, didn’t I?” He shot her a pointed look. “Without your help, I might add.”
    “I don’t care that you got out! I care about why you went
in
!”
    The next thing he knew, she’d unsnapped her seat belt and climbed into the backseat. The car hit a pothole just as she went to sit, and her hand landed on his thigh as she tried to steady herself.
    Sean’s groin instantly stirred at the feel of her palm on his leg, his entire body flooding with heat. It should have been impossible, getting hard at a time like this, but Bailey had always evoked that response in him.
    Seeing the look in his eyes, she snatched her hand back and settled in the seat next to him. “Why were you robbing that bank?” she demanded.
    “Why else do people rob banks? For money.”
    A genuine rush of laughter left her mouth. “You have more money than you’ll ever be able to spend. Lord knows you charge us an arm and a leg when we hit you up for intel. But fine, let’s pretend you needed the money. Where is it?” She swept her hand in the air in front of him. “Where’s your bucketload of cash, Sean?”
    He stifled a groan. “The heist didn’t go as planned. We had to abort before we could get into the vault.”
    “We, huh?” she echoed. “O’Hare’s foot soldiers, you mean. So, what, you’re suddenly back in the IRA?”
    “The IRA no longer exists, luv. You should brush up on your Irish history.”
    Another laugh, this one heavy with scorn. “Bullshit. We both know a new splinter faction pops up every other week. There might not be an official militant republican army anymore, but the IRA fucking exists. The Irish Dagger exists. And Eamon O’Hare is still leading it, same way he’s led it for decades.”
    Sean gave up on contradicting her. It was no secret that Rabbit was, and remained, a staunch supporter of a united Ireland. Just like Sean’s father had been.
    Colin Reilly had been heavily involved with the Dagger since his youth. He’d lived through the protests and riots in the seventies and eighties, witnessed the escalating violence. Hell, he’d
contributed
to that violence.
    Shootings, bombings, and stabbings had been a daily occurrence in Sean’s life. He and Ollie had seen their father get stitched up in the back room of O’Hare’s Pub. They’d watched the Dagger members drink to successful bombings. Heard the men make plans to take down government officials or opponents of their cause.
    Sean had never understood what his father was fighting for. The Reillys were from Dublin, yet they were battling over the North, a place Sean had never even visited as a child. As he’d gotten older, he’d come to understand the politics behind it, but the cause hadn’t interested him and Ollie. They’d left Dublin to work as mercenaries, eventually becoming some of the most sought-out information dealers on the map, and neither one of them had looked back.
    But the past had a funny way of dragging you back in.
    “The question is,” Bailey went on, interrupting histhoughts, “why are you letting O’Hare call the shots again? You and Ollie quit being his errand boys a long time ago.”
    He might have been touched that she’d gone to so much trouble to investigate his past, but he knew damn well she hadn’t done it out of curiosity. Bailey liked to know her enemies, and Sean had been placed squarely in that camp when he’d deceived her last year.
    “You’re right,” he agreed. “We left his crew years ago.”
    “Then why are you working for him again?”
    “Who says I am?”
    Frustration clouded her face. “Stop playing games with me. You may as well tell me the truth, because if you don’t, I’ll just get