Kenney, Laina - Overexposed [DIG Security 3] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) by Laina Kenney Page A

ran.”
    Her throat closed, and she choked on the words. It was bad, but it could have been so much worse.
    “Good girl. Stay where you are and stay hidden.”
    Conn didn’t waste time asking for long explanations. God, she loved him.
    “I’ll hide.”
    “And I’ll have two old friends there in a few minutes. You’ll know I sent them because they’ll get out of the car and call my name, not yours. They’ll get you to the airport in Dublin and get you on a plane to Texas. It’ll connect through another city first. You’ll be safe here with me, and then we’ll sort out your trouble. And after that I’ll track down my useless bastard of a brother and have a word with him.”
    His tone was calm, matter-of-fact, but she heard his knuckles snap in the background.
    “I love you, Uncle Conn.” It was all she could say.
    “I love you, too, pixie. Hang on. You’ll be in Texas soon. Call me again when you get your pickup. If I don’t hear from you in thirty minutes, I’ll be sending a full team out to tear up Dublin. Bye for now.”
    When he ended the call, she wanted to scream in protest. He was her lifeline, and she didn’t want to let go. She didn’t want to be left alone in a dingy back alley just before midnight. She knew Uncle Conn would arrange things for her, he was as reliable as the sun coming up, but that belief didn’t keep her emotions from screeching with alarm when the call ended.
    She slipped back farther in the alley and huddled down against the cold bricks behind a round garbage bin. The cool drizzle was sinking through her twill jacket and thin denims, leeching away her body heat.
    Tears ran down her face, mixing with the light rain. Her arm ached where Paddy’s bodyguard had grabbed her, and the knife cut under her jaw stung in the rain. But she was alive and whole, and if she could just wait it out, Uncle Conn’s friends would ride to the rescue.
    A car’s headlamps illuminated the front few feet of the alley, and Avelyn shrank back into the shadows. Uncle Conn had said to stay hidden.
    An older man in a black shirt opened the passenger door and stepped out into the rain.
    He called out, “Conn Reilly! Conn Reilly, I hope to God you’re down there, or I’ll be hunting the streets of Dublin in the rain for a chestnut-haired pixie.”
    Uncle Conn’s friend! Avelyn tried to rise and fell against the stone wall. She struggled to her feet, her knees stiff, cold hands clutching the handle of her hobo bag.
    She stumbled forward on the uneven stones, willing her chilled muscles to obey. The man approached with his hands lifted in a pose of surrender.
    “Ah, love,” he said when she came up to him. “You look half-dead, but I’m that glad to see you just the same. Conn is calling in all manner of old favors. Your Uncle Conn could rouse the dead without shouting and no mistake.”
    He helped her into the back seat and closed the door.
    “There’s an old woolen shawl back there. Wrap up in it and try to get warm. You’re shaking and no wonder, but you should be safe now. We’ve got you booked on a night flight to New York, three hour layover there, then on to Dallas, Texas. Conn, or one of his team, will meet you at the airport and drive to your destination from there. Just relax for now if you can.”
    Avelyn wondered where she would end up, but maybe the man didn’t know the answer either. Conn didn’t share information that he considered important, and there was just no point asking him if his mind was made up. She might as well ask a mountain to move a few feet out of her way.
    The man passed her a small first-aid kit and cleared his throat. “Any wounds we can’t see? My wife could meet us at the airport if you need a woman to talk to, love.”
    The kindness in his voice had her gulping back a fresh flow of tears as she wrapped the shawl around her. Maybe the heavy wool would help stop her sudden convulsive shivering.
    “No,” she said through her chattering teeth. “Just a