Page 38 of Ring Of Truth
Smirking, he steps back and turns, standing at an angle.
He squats to the floor, his hands outstretched when his legs snap back behind him. He lowers and does a beautiful pushup, the bulging forearms throbbing along with his thigh muscles. His legs bend, and in one swift impossible move, he jumps up.
“Again,” I mutter.
Darragh stares at me, and it’s the kind of look that says so much. That look when you know someone is…dear God…your soul mate.
But that’s impossible.
I have an excuse for being so wired and unhinged. But why is Darragh looking at me like he wants to devour me?
God, I need a drink, but tea will have to do.
“Never mind.” I stand up and grip the railing again. “Do you mind if I make myself some tea?”
“Not at all. I have several kinds.” He grabs a towel and wipes the glistening, sexy sweat from the back of his neck. “I’m a tea junkie.”
He approaches the stairs, and I back myself into the wall so he can pass me.
My throat goes tight, thinking he’s going to walk around shirtless like that in those skimpy shorts.
I catch a look at myself in the mirror on the far wall. I’m a freaking whale. With an arrest record a mile long.
“My case!” I hadn’t even thought about that.
“I’m calling a lawyer I know in L.A. He’ll get both your charges dropped.”
“You can do that?”
Darragh stops climbing the stairs and looks over his shoulder. “Of course, I can do that.”
“How?”
“It’s called money.”
“You’re going to bribe the Las Vegas D.A.?” I wonder if he’s on the take, considering how much money and power swims in that town.
“Not me. The lawyer. The right lawyer always has backdoor connections.”
I scoff. The four-leaf clover doesn’t grow too far from the meadow.
Darragh grew up with the Irish King for a dad. It’s in his blood to skirt the law. Pay for what he wants. Hurt people to get what money can’t buy.
I glance at Darragh’s hands and the smooth, unscarred, un-tatted, veiny fingers I remember holding his daughter relax me.
If he gets my charges dropped, that solves a huge problem of mine.
I have to trust him. I’m having a baby in a few weeks, and I can’t go to jail.
I follow him toward the kitchen where the soft ripple of Puget Sound’s current lapping against the rocks at the shoreline takes my breath away.
“God, what a view…”
Darragh crosses in front of the dozen narrow windows that sit in a bowed wall and opens a pantry.
“It cost over a mil.”
You’re a much better view. Priceless.