The Hunk Next Door(66)

“On what charge?” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “All of Belclare thinks I’m a hero.”

“I suppose that was your plan. Waltz into my town, win over the locals and seduce the little-lady police chief.”

No one thought of her that way. “Last night was no one-sided seduction,” he said, leaning forward, ignoring the damned gun on the desk.

“Let’s stick with today,” she snapped, color flooding her cheeks. “Who are you? Start with your real name.”

He gripped the arms of the chair. Might as well spill it all—he doubted she would grant him another chance to clear the air. “I have no idea what my real name is. Riley O’Brien is what the teachers and staff in the orphanage called me. When I graduated, I traded a few years in the military for college tuition. Now I’m here.”

“No Irish parents?”

“Your guess is as good as mine.” He shook his head. His childhood fantasies of home and hearth felt silly now. The fragile new hope she’d kindled sputtered out beneath her unrelenting blue gaze.

“There seems to be a significant gap in your personal history.”

“I agree.” He refused to elaborate, even if it was possible. Whether or not she hated him for what they shared on a personal level, Belclare was his post and he wouldn’t jeopardize that. If he was exposed or ousted, who would protect her?

Let her hate him for lying about his past, but she’d come to mean too much in such a short time for him to walk away and leave her safety to someone else.

“Who sent you here?” Her eyes flared as something else occurred to her. “What in the hell did you do to the Hamiltons?”

He rolled his eyes, aggravated by her suddenly overactive imagination. “Call the Realtor, check in on them. I showed you the paperwork. You know I came by the house honestly when I was decorating the realty office storefront.”

She scoffed at that, her fingertips dancing along the grip of her gun.

This really couldn’t get any worse. Unless she shot him. “Call. Verify my story. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Oh, yes, you are. Tell me the truth and then get out of my town.”

“I told you the truth.” At least as much as he dared to explain right now. Deke was in custody, but were the men who did his dirty work planning to follow through on whatever orders he’d already issued? It was too soon to tell. If he could get Abby to calm down, he had a feeling she’d agree with his assessment.

He was furious that Deke had managed to expose him and kill her trust. From Riley’s vantage point, exposing him gave anyone a clear shot at Abby.

“The whole truth.”

The only truth that mattered to Riley was sitting on the other side of the desk. Abby had started as an assignment, but she was so much more now. He didn’t think she wanted to hear that. She wouldn’t want to hear how he admired this side of her. Even with her substantial fury leveled at him, he admired her. Wanted her. He shook his head. “The truth that matters is I am here to protect you and your town from a very real terrorist threat. Your success this morning notwithstanding, my orders have not changed. You don’t have the authority to send me anywhere.” Not professionally anyway, but he left that unsaid.

She swore, impressing him with her colorful vocabulary. “The explosives are secure. The man using the docks and this town as his personal criminal playground is in custody. Belclare is safe again. You can go.”

But the threat against her personally, the promise to make her an example, still loomed over her head. “I have to stay.” He pushed to his feet. “I’m sorry that makes you uncomfortable, Abby.”

His heart clutched when she picked up her gun, but she returned it carefully to her purse as she pushed to her feet, as well.

“Mr. O’Brien, I don’t want to see you. Not next door, not in my station, not at the pub. Stick to your so-called orders if you must, but stay out of my sight.”

“On one condition.”

“You don’t get to name conditions here!” She trembled with the fury she obviously felt.

He wasn’t leaving until he’d warned her. “Keep someone with you. I don’t think this is over.”

“Is that a threat?”

“Of course not,” he said. It felt like one of those shipping containers was sitting on his chest. This might be the last time he was this close to her—he couldn’t let fear ruin it.

“I’ll stay out of your sight, but I’m next door if you ever need me.”

“I won’t.”

He believed her. He paused with one hand on the doorknob and turned back to face her. “Last night—”