The Navy SEAL’s Holiday Fling: Ballybeg Bad Boys, Book 3

F
or my gorgeous
, naughty L.E.

L
iam Ryan slung
his duffel bag into the back of the rental car and forced down the lid of the trunk. An icy wind whipped around him, replete with the scent of seaweed and the taste of salt. Man, he was going to miss Ireland. After a six-month stint working as an undercover operative, he’d grown to love the country of his ancestors. But now that he’d completed his mission and wrapped up loose ends, it was time to get home to the good old U.S. of A.—and just in time for the holidays. He was due to spend five whole days with his favorite girl.

With a big smile plastered across his face, Liam slid behind the wheel and fired up the engine. He’d been afraid the gunshot wound he’d sustained during his last job would prevent him from flying home for Christmas, but his doctors had given him a clean bill of health yesterday. He’d booked his flight the instant the white coats had left his hospital room.

Liam had just reached the main road from Ballybeg to Cork when the insistent vibration of his phone alerted him to an incoming call. His face split into a grin when he recognized the number on the display.

A small, tentative voice sounded down the line. “Daddy?”

His heart clenched as he pictured Meggie’s huge blue eyes and wild black hair with the self-inflicted bangs. God, he missed his little girl. “Well, hey there, Miss Meggie. How are you doing? How’s Barnabus?” His hand went to the hideous necklace she’d made him for his birthday. It was felt daisies and a one-eyed fluffy duck dangling off the end like a man in a noose.  Liam wore it with pride.

“We’re both good,” his five-year-old daughter said, drawing out the final word of the sentence in that adorable way of hers. “Are you really coming home for Christmas?”

“I told you I would, baby. I’m on my way to the airport right now to catch the night flight to JFK.”

“Mommy says I shouldn’t get my hopes up,” she said in a small voice, “in case you don’t keep your promise.”

The sadness in her tone slayed him. Liam swallowed a diatribe against his ex-wife and kept his tone even. “Have I ever broken a promise to you, baby?”

“Nuh-uh.”

“I won’t this time, either.”

Thanks to his career, he’d missed so much of her life already. He was going to make the best of their time sailing around the Florida Keys. Once the New Year rolled around, he’d be off on another mission, destination unknown.

A pang of guilt hit him in the solar plexus. How long would the next job take? Undercover ops didn’t exactly allow for a typical father-daughter relationship. Seeing a child for a week two or three times a year just didn’t cut it. Maybe it was time he got serious about looking for a desk job, however much the notion of a staid nine-to-five existence made his skin crawl.

“I’ll collect you on the twenty-fifth and we’ll have five whole days together. Just you, me, and the sea.”

“Can I bring Barnabus? He’ll be sad if I leave him all alone.”

Liam refrained from mentioning that the dog would hardly be alone if he were left with Meggie’s mother, stepfather, baby brother, and a shitload of servants. “Of course you can bring Barnabus.”

“Whew! I’d be real sad without him.” She paused, and Liam could practically hear the wheels in her little head turning. “Will he need his own doggie life jacket?”

He chuckled. “I’ve already bought one for him.”

In the background, he could hear his ex-wife urging Meggie to end the call.

“I have to go now. I miss you, Daddy.”

“I miss you, too, baby. I’m sending you lots of kisses. See you in a few days.”

After she disconnected, Liam felt that hollow sensation he always had when he finished a call with his daughter. Despite what his ex thought, he adored Meggie. He wanted to be a good dad, even if he’d sucked at being a good husband. Why had he allowed Amy to demote him to the role of sperm donor with visitation rights? She’d thrown a fit when he’d shown up with Barnabus last Christmas. A mongrel rescue puppy didn’t match Amy’s designer lifestyle or her investment banker husband’s Shih Tzu.

Shortly after ending the call with his daughter, he passed Cork City and headed toward the motorway. He was approaching the turn onto the M8 when his phone rang again. The name Cash Kincaid flashed on the display. Liam smiled as he hit connect. “Hey, man. You afraid I’ll forget your duty-free whiskey?”

His former brother-in-arms and new boss was brusque and to the point. “We have a situation.”

A prickle of unease settled between Liam’s shoulder blades. A glance at the GPS told him he was still a two-hour drive away from Shannon Airport. “Go on.”

“A series of bomb threats have been issued to cities across the globe, all targeted at a sex toy manufacturer with its own chain of stores. One of the cities threatened is Cork.”

“What’s that got to do with Trident Securities? Unless influential strings are pulled, local law enforcement isn’t going to let me get involved.”

“Influential strings
are
being pulled. The caller claims to be The Ghost.”

Liam let loose a string of expletives, hit the brakes, and swerved his car around to retrace his route. “What do we know?”

“The C.E.O. of Blush Shoppe Enterprises got an email saying bombs had been planted in five stores. One of them is in downtown Cork. I’ve sent you the coordinates.”

“Blush Shoppe?”
Fuck.
Wasn’t that the company Jill Bekele worked for? Liam’s pulse pounded at the thought of his former girlfriend threatened by The Ghost. He pressed the gas pedal and sailed through a red light. “The bomb squad?”

“On their way. Once we establish if the threat is legit, you’ll liaise with our contact in Irish intelligence. Officially, a multinational task force has been established to capture The Ghost and bring him to justice. Unofficially, the agencies want him dead.”

“And they’ve hired us to do their dirty work.” Liam phrased it as a statement, not a question.

Cash’s laugh rumbled over the line. “Someone’s got to do it, and it won’t be the suits.”

“I have to be stateside by the twenty-fifth. I promised Meggie—”

“You’re the only person who’s ever eyeballed The Ghost,” Cash cut in. “We need you on this job.”

Liam’s hands tightened around the wheel. The Ghost represented the only failed mission of his Navy SEAL career. It still rankled. And now the asshole was threatening to hurt Jill and derail his holiday plans with Meggie. “I’m not breaking a promise to my daughter. I’ll do what’s necessary today and then pass the job on to someone else.”

“There is no one else,” Cash said with a sigh. “All the guys are away on jobs, and you’re right on site.”

“Right on site with two busted ribs and ten days’ leave due.” Liam gritted his teeth. “I’ll give you twenty-four hours max, Cash. And you’re responsible for rearranging my flight home.”

“Deal,” his boss replied. “I owe you one, man.”

“Did our supernatural friend elaborate on the reason behind the bombs?”

“Yeah. The usual shit. Blush Shoppe is encouraging immorality and extramarital affairs, especially with its new same-sex couples line.”

Liam swore beneath his breath. The Ghost, a terrorist with a skewed view of morality, had made it his mission to bring the world’s sex industry to a screeching halt. This involved murdering strip club owners, adult movie producers, and politicians with a penchant for prostitutes. The politician angle had landed him on several governments’ shit lists, including Uncle Sam’s. Despite their best efforts, he always evaded capture.

“Okay. I’ll be in touch when we have more intel,” Cash said briskly. “Stay safe.”

“I’ll do my best,” Liam drawled.

Traffic was heavy when he reached the quays and came to a complete stop on MacCurtain Street, a couple of blocks from the Blush Shoppe store. People from nearby stores and businesses had crowded onto the pavement to get a better look at the action, including a purple liveried doorman from the Sheldon Hotel, Cork City’s answer to the Plaza.

Liam hopped out of the car and peered ahead. The police had set up a roadblock, and the area in front of the store was deserted except for the Emergency Response Unit guys. He would pull the car over to the side of the road and sprint the rest of the way.

He was about to slide behind the wheel again when something out of the corner of his eye snagged his attention. A man wearing a hooded sweatshirt, baggy pants, and sneakers ambled down the sidewalk. The angle of his hood concealed his features, but there was something about that deliberately casual walk that struck Liam as…wrong.

Without breaking his stride, the young man walked past the preoccupied doorman and took the steps up to the mistletoe-festooned entrance of the Sheldon Hotel. When he reached out a hand to open the door, Liam’s blood turned to ice. Perfectly illuminated by a streetlight was the intricate vine tattoo Liam had last seen on the hand supporting the barrel of a gun. A gun that had been aimed at his heart.

The Ghost.

Abandoning his car, Liam raced across the road and took the steps up to the hotel two at a time. Inside, he scanned the marble-floored lobby but could see no sign of the man. And then a sign caught his attention.

Blush Shoppe Launch Party, Oliver Plunkett Conference Room, Second Floor

Oh, fuck.

A
s Jill Bekele
scanned the crowd, a tingle of excitement fluttered in her belly. The marble-floored conference room at the Sheldon Hotel was packed from pillar to pillar. The majority of the audience was women, but Jill was pleased to see a few men sprinkled throughout the throng.

She took a deep breath and addressed the crowd. “Thank you all so much for coming tonight—pun intended.”

The audience laughed, and a few whistles pierced the air.

Jill focused on one or two people at a time and ignored the nervous sweat sliding down the back of her evening gown. “I hope you enjoyed our presentation of Blush Shoppe’s winter lineup. We strive to provide products for every body shape, lifestyle, and sexual preference.”

There were more cheers from the crowd.

Jill beamed and held up a glossy brochure. “We’re especially proud of our new made-to-measure line. Have you ever experienced an otherwise great vibrator that isn’t a good fit for the distance between your clitoris and vagina? With our Luxe products, you never need to worry about this again. Our dedicated staff will measure you in one of our discreet fitting rooms, and your new sex toy will be ready within seven business days. If you have any questions about the Luxe line or any of our other products, my staff and I are happy to answer them.”

Jill signaled to her assistant, Marie, who immediately rallied the other Blush Shoppe employees and began distributing gift boxes to the audience.

“We’re giving out goodie boxes to everyone. Inside, you’ll find a few surprises, a copy of our new catalog, and an order form. If you wish to place an order before you leave this evening, you can go behind the velvet curtains over there—” Jill gestured to a row of curtained-off cubicles at the side of the room, “—and fill out your order form in privacy. After you’ve filled it out, pop the form into the cubicle’s letterbox. With the exception of the made-to-measure line, we promise to deliver all orders placed tonight by the twenty-fifth of December.”

The crowd cheered and clapped, caught up in the excitement.

“And now there’s nothing left to be said but to eat, drink, and be merry. On behalf of Blush Shoppe, I wish you all a wonderful festive season.”

The applause was deafening. Jill breathed a sigh of relief. Public speaking was not her strength, but this evening’s presentation had gone perfectly. The crowd was enthusiastic, much laughter was had, and hopefully, many orders would be placed for Blush Shoppe products. Her boss would be pleased. And if her boss were pleased, Jill’s new position as manager of Blush Shoppe Ireland’s flagship store would be secure.

The instant she stepped off the podium, her friend, Olivia, grabbed her arm. “You look ready to faint.”

Jill’s hand fluttered to her ruby necklace. “Were my nerves that obvious?”

“Not during your speech. You were wonderful. But the moment you finished, you turned deathly pale.”

“With my skin tone, I don’t think pale is possible,” Jill said dryly.

“Pale for
you
.” Olivia examined her face intently, and then gave a decisive nod. “A reapplication of blusher is called for.”

Before Jill could open her mouth to protest, Olivia slipped her arm through hers and propelled her in the direction of the ladies’ bathroom.

The bathrooms matched the opulence of the rest of the hotel. The sink area had tiny spotlights that could be adjusted to give the perfect lighting for applying makeup.

Jill straightened the skirt of her deep red wraparound evening gown, touched up her blusher, and reapplied a careful coating of her new favorite lipstick. Her skin color was a blend of her Irish mother’s pale freckles and her Ethiopian father’s rich black tone. Finding shades that suited her dark skin was difficult in Ireland, and she tended to order her cosmetics online.

At the next sink, Olivia was performing magic with a mascara wand. “Your launch party is a huge success. Who knew the women of Ireland were this desperate for a manufactured orgasm?”

Jill laughed and capped her lipstick. “And to think of all the teasing when I started selling Passionate Pleasures products on the side.”

Olivia grinned. “You’ve come a long way since Passionate Pleasures.”

Talk about an understatement. She’d never imagined her side-hustle as a part-time sales rep for Passionate Pleasures would eventually lead to a managerial position with Blush Shoppe, the most successful sex toy company in the world.

“Mum thinks I’m mad to leave Tyler’s, but I was on the cusp of a promotion. If they’d given it to me, I’d have guilted myself into staying at a job that bored me senseless.”

Olivia’s scarlet lips curved into a smile. “Purveyor of sex toys has a
much
better ring to it than soft drink quality control manager. Besides, Blush Shoppe is already well established in other countries. There’s every reason to expect it to be a success in Ireland.”

“With all the delays opening the store, I wasn’t sure we’d manage to launch before Christmas. As it is, we’ve opened at the last possible moment to avail of the holiday rush.”

“But you succeeded.” Her friend gave her a reassuring smile. “You’re going to make Blush Shoppe the premiere supplier of sex toys to the south west.”

“I’ll certainly give it my best shot.”

Jill slipped her makeup bag into her purse, and they made their way back to the conference room.

The launch party was in full swing. Now that the formal part of the evening was over, the attendees were enjoying wine and aperitifs in the posh surroundings of the Sheldon Hotel.

“I’ll admit I’m terribly selfish,” Olivia said, linking arms with her, “but I’m delighted you’ve moved home. I missed you when you were working in Dublin.”

“I’m glad to be back.” She lowered her voice to a stage whisper. “And it has the added advantage of being far away from Ratfink.”

They both laughed.

Actually, Jill had barely thought of her ex-boyfriend—Richard a.k.a. Ratfink—since she’d moved back to Ballybeg. Their on-off relationship was finally over for good, and she had no regrets.

Olivia gasped and squeezed her arm. “Oh my goodness. Look who just walked in. It’s that fickle French chef you shagged over the summer.”

Jill’s heart did a slow thump and roll. “Jean-Baptiste is here? I thought he’d gone back to France.”

Olivia shook her head. “Oh, no. He came into my café the other day with Darko Dunne. I almost swooned when he told me my cooking was delicious. He’s looking especially gorgeous now that he’s shaved his beard.”

Jill’s breath came hard and fast. While she had no regrets regarding the demise of her relationship with Ratfink, she was still smarting with humiliation over her fling with Jean-Baptiste. “How dare he show up to my party? What’s he planning to do? Buy a vibrator for his new girlfriend?”

Olivia’s eyebrows shot north. “It’s not like you to get so irate.”

“Jean-Baptiste was the first man I slept with after splitting up with Richard. I was stupid enough to believe it meant something to him.”

“You went out with him a few times over the summer, right?”

“We went out for six weeks, but I only saw him on the weekends.” Six passion-filled weekends that had ended abruptly one Sunday morning when Jean-Baptiste had received a mysterious phone call. “Then he took off like a bat out of hell, and I haven’t seen or heard from him since he made a half-arsed attempt to apologize two months later.”

“Well, you’re about to see him now,” Olivia said, straining to see over the crowd. “He’s making a beeline straight for you.”

Jill’s eyes widened at the sight of the man running toward her. Jean-Baptiste had indeed shaved his beard. He’d also replaced his unruly shoulder-length tresses with a military buzz cut. And there was something different about his eyebrows…

To her amazement, he halted in front of the alarm box, grabbed a large dildo from a display table, and smashed the glass. Bells pealed throughout the room, bringing the reverie to an abrupt halt.

Jill’s confusion morphed into anger. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she demanded, marching toward him. “That dildo is one of Blush Shoppe’s premium products. Are you trying to wreck my party?”

“Fuck your party,” Jean-Baptiste said in an American accent. “We need to evacuate.”

Jill blinked. This man looked like Jean-Baptiste, but where was his sexy French accent? She opened her mouth to voice her confusion, but he cut her off at the first syllable.

“There’s a bomb in the building, probably in this room. We need to get everyone out. Tell your guests to move fast, but not panic.”

The urgency in his voice silenced her objections. An icy prickle spread down her spine. The man must be mad. But what if he were telling the truth?

She turned to her guests and spoke in a carrying voice. “May I have your attention please? The hotel is having a fire drill. Please leave your belongings and follow me.”

Despite a few grumbles, everyone obeyed. With a minimum of fuss, they filed down the sweeping staircase that led to the hotel lobby, seeming confident they’d soon be back to their champagne flutes and sex toys.

The protests began in earnest when they stepped outside into the chilly December evening. “If it’s just a fire drill, you could have given us time to fetch our coats,” one lady said in a strident tone. “After standing out here in the cold, we’ll all be sick for Christmas.”

Jill turned to Jean-Baptiste and placed her hands on her hips. “What the hell is going on? What did I ever do to you to deserve this? Did you deliberately sabotage my launch party?” She jerked a thumb up at the windows of the conference room. “If you were going to play games, you could have had the decency to let us get our coats before ordering us outside in the freezing cold.”

“There was no time,” Jean-Baptiste said, scanning the crowd. Jill followed the direction of his gaze but could see nothing unusual. “I had to get you out before the bomb detonated.”

“Why did—”

In that instant, a blast ripped through the second floor of the hotel, shattering the windows of the conference room they’d just evacuated.