It seemed they had spent a lifetime beside each other in a car. The small space wrapped a deceptive web of intimacy around them. They had stopped at a pistol range on their way. Irish wanted her to take another lesson, make sure she remembered everything. She did. Though she handled the gun awkwardly, she held it safely, loaded it safely, and hit at least part of the target that was fifteen feet away. If she had to aim a greater distance, they would both be in deep trouble. She placed the gun back in her purse, and he put his in the holster at the back of his belt, again wearing a sports shirt over it. They’d also stopped at an outlet store and bought a few shirts, and some dog food. Irish knew that she intended to go with him, no matter what he said. But he had his own plan. He had no intention of letting her anywhere close to Eachan’s house. He had asked one of his friends to stay with her, to make sure she was safe. It was the best he could do for her. And Bojangles. Hell, he’d fallen for the damn mutt, too.
