Niall (Vigilance 2)

Niall led me along the path, then down a set of rock steps to a small cove that couldn’t be seen from the resort. It was gorgeous and quiet, just right for a romantic evening. Not that this was one.

“How did you know this was here?” I asked.

“I saw the path on the detailed map of the island we got from Emilio. I wanted to reduce the chance of us running into anyone else. Once we head around that outcropping”—he gestured to the right—“we can continue on around the island.”

“And you really brought me here to walk? No plans for anything else on this dark secluded beach?”

Niall grinned. “You’re fucking insatiable.”

“Me?”

“Come on.” He reached for my hand. When I started walking again, he didn’t let go and neither did I.

18

Niall

I was holding Marco’s hand and walking down the beach like this was a fucking date.

What the hell was I doing? Marco was a good fuck, but he was annoying as hell, and even if he was relationship material, that was the last thing I wanted. Wasn’t it? I didn’t dare let anyone that close. Yet I’d told him things I’d never told anyone else, and having his warm solid presence next to me felt really damn good.

We walked for a while without talking, then he said, “Why did you leave the FBI?”

“During the mission where I was captured, things went wrong that were the fault of people above me, and I… I couldn’t work with them anymore.

“So you joined Vigilance?”

He nodded. “All of us were involved in that fucked-up mission in one way or another. I’d known X for several years, and when he asked me to work with him—and none of my other prospects were appealing—I said yes.”

“It really doesn’t bother you that you have to work with people you would have arrested in the past?”

“It’s… taken some getting used to, but as long as we have a common goal—”

“Like stopping these fucking traffickers?”

“Yes. I can work with anyone who still has a conscience.”

“I don’t trust anyone without one. Everyone should have lines they won’t cross and things they won’t accept.”

I turned and looked at him. “That’s exactly right.”

“See. We do have something in common.”

“More than one thing. A love of filthy, rough sex; the desire to end the assholes who invited you here; and our philosophy on criminals.”

He chuckled. “You do realize I’m a criminal, right?”

“Yeah, but you… You’re all right.”

Marco laid a hand against his chest. “I’m blown away by your compliment.”

“You should be. I don’t give them out easily.”

“I’m sure you don’t, but at least you can’t walk around with a stick up your ass while we’re here.”

“No room when I have you up my ass.”

He burst out laughing. “Too true.”

“I like to make my expectations clear, and I don’t work with people who can’t meet them.”

“I manage to achieve these high standards?”

I considered that for a moment. I could hedge or equivocate, but the truth was yes. Marco had risen above my expectations.

He looked surprised, and I squeezed his hand. “I wouldn’t have come here with you if I didn’t think you could do the job.”

“I wouldn’t have either. My standards are different than yours, and it took me a while to be convinced, but you don’t hesitate, and you’re damn good at what you do. We make a good team.”

“Yes, we do.”

We went back to walking in silence. A few moments later, we turned around and headed back to Arlington’s house. The quiet between us didn’t feel awkward. It was comfortable, and by the time we made the climb up to our balcony, the breeze and the sound of the ocean had me feeling calmer than I had all week.

Marco’s stomach growled as we stepped back inside, and I glanced over my shoulder. “Hungry?”

“Starving.” Neither of us had eaten much at dinner. The food was excellent, but the company turned our stomachs.

“Let’s see what we’ve got here.”

“We could call down to the kitchen. Arlington said we were welcome to ask for whatever we wanted. We might as well get all we can out of this trip.”

“True.”

We brought out chips, popcorn, and an array of other snacks, then asked to have champagne and a platter of the appetizers that had been offered at dinner brought to our room. When the food arrived, we spread everything out on the coffee table and settled on the couch to indulge ourselves.

“What’s your favorite food?” I asked Marco as I picked up a buttery lobster bite.

He gave a smile, not unlike one I might see on his face in bed. “Veal saltimbocca.”

I frowned, not sure what that was. “Describe it.”

“You pound veal cutlets thin, then layer them with prosciutto and sage leaves, coat them lightly with seasoned flour, and fry them in oil and butter until they are beautifully brown and crispy. After removing them from the pan, you pour in Marsala and create the smoothest, most flavorful pan sauce to cook them in for just a few more minutes.” He sighed heavily.