The Mighty Quinns: Liam

He’d told the new tale to his sons one night when they were all gathered around the bar at the pub. And though the three oldest brothers scoffed at the idea, the three youngest weren’t so skeptical. Liam wasn’t about to be caught in the same trap that had caught Conor, Dylan and Brendan. In truth, he knew the secret, the reason Olivia, Meggie and Amy had managed to snare themselves a Quinn. “Never ride to the rescue of a damsel in distress,” Liam murmured. For some reason, once a Quinn came to a woman’s rescue, it seemed he was doomed.

He glanced down at his watch. Had this been a normal Friday night, he would have been behind the bar at Quinn’s, scoping out the female clientele and deciding exactly which women he was going to charm that evening. Just because the three eldest Quinn brothers were off the market, women hadn’t given up on the younger trio.

“I bought you beer and sandwiches,” Sean said. “In the cooler. There’s take-out Chinese just down the block. Coffee shop on the corner. If you need to leave, set up the video camera. I’ll be back Sunday night, Monday night at the latest.”

“What am I supposed to do if this guy shows up? Do I tail him or her?”

“Call me. You’ve got your cell phone and my number. Then get as much on him as you can, the make of his car, his plate number, anything that we can use to track him down. Hell, break into his car if you have to.”

“Can’t they put me in jail for that?” Liam asked with a grin.

“Only if you get caught,” Sean said as he walked to the door.

Liam watched as his brother closed the attic door behind him, then turned back to the job at hand. Though the conditions weren’t ideal, his side jobs for Sean were usually pretty easy. He turned back to the window and focused his telephoto lens on the third-floor apartment. The lights were on in all the rooms and he found the subject of their surveillance sitting in the living room. Her back was turned to Liam but he could tell she was reading a book.

Suddenly she stood, holding the book in one hand and gesturing wildly with the other. He quickly scanned the apartment, wondering who the hell she was talking to. Then he realized she was talking to herself. “Ground control, we have a loony here,” he murmured.

Liam let the lens move along the length of her body. She was tall and slender with dark hair that fell to the middle of her back. A pair of faded jeans hugged her backside and her T-shirt was tight enough to reveal delicate shoulders and a narrow waist. “Come on, Eleanor,” he murmured. “Turn around and give us a look. I’m not used to spending Friday night without some feminine companionship.”

But she didn’t turn. Instead she dropped her book and walked into the bedroom, too fast for him to focus on her face. When he caught her there again, Liam watched as she stood in front of the closet. Then, in one slow, sinuous movement, she grabbed the hem of her T-shirt and pulled it over her head. Liam held his breath for a moment, then let it out slowly. “Wow,” he murmured.

Though he felt a bit like a peeping Tom, he couldn’t drag himself away from the telephoto lens. He snapped a picture and the autowind on his camera whirred ahead to the next frame. “Turn around, turn around,” he whispered.

But as if she were teasing him, she refused. Her jeans were next and she skimmed them off her hips and kicked them away. Dressed only in her bra and panties, she bent to pick up the jeans off the floor, offering Liam a tempting view of her backside. “Hmm, black underwear. Pretty racy for an accountant.” He snapped another photo.

Suddenly the damp chill in the attic didn’t seem to bother him. His blood pumped a little quicker, warmed by the subject in his viewfinder. He leaned forward, pressing the camera even closer to the grimy window. “Now the bra,” he murmured. “Or the panties. I’m easy. You choose.” And then she turned around and seemed to look directly at him, her dark hair tumbled around an exquisite face.

With a soft curse, Liam jumped back from the window, letting his camera drop against his chest. She was beautiful, nothing at all like the photo he’d been given. “Oh, hell,” he muttered, raking his hand through his hair. He’d probably been watching the wrong window. He snatched up his camera and focused it on the building, counting the floors, reviewing the description his brother had given him.

But he was trained on the right place, and when he found her, she had turned again, reaching around for the hook on her bra. He swallowed hard. He’d been to strip clubs before and watched women take off their clothes for entertainment. But this was something more than just a gorgeous body, it was almost…intimate. And when she slipped into a silk robe, he breathed a long sigh of relief.

Who was this woman? She certainly wasn’t the woman in the picture, all conservative and efficient-looking. But maybe that was all a part of it. Sean had said Eleanor Thorpe was a suspect in the embezzlement of a quarter-million dollars. What better way to pull off a crime like that than to play the part of the dependable, quietly forgettable employee?

She moved to the window. “No,” he murmured. “Not the curtains. Leave them open.” But his plea went unheard.

He dragged an old easy chair over to the window and sat, kicking his feet up on the sill. Liam watched the apartment for a long time, his mind spinning images of the woman inside. And when the lights of the apartment went off a few hours later, he took a long sip of the beer he’d opened.

Tipping his head back, he closed his eyes, ready to settle in for a long night. He saw her in his head, turning to face him, letting the silk robe drop to the floor. He imagined her body, perfect breasts, a slender waist, and long and supple legs. And then she began to move, a provocative dance caught by the lens of his camera.

Liam wasn’t sure how long he’d slept or what woke him up—a noise from the street or maybe a sense of something happening. He rubbed his eyes, then looked at his watch. It was nearly midnight and the attic was frigid from the damp spring wind that had picked up outside.

He sat up and rubbed his arms, then raked his fingers through his hair. The apartment was still dark across the street, but he grabbed his camera and looked through the telephoto lens anyway. Somewhere in the distance a siren sounded, and nearby a dog barked. And then a strange light appeared in the window of Eleanor Thorpe’s apartment.

Liam slowly stood and focused the lens. The light seemed as if it was coming from a moving source as it cast odd shadows against the living-room windows. “What the—” He adjusted the telephoto, searching, trying to see inside the darkened room. The light moved closer to the window and Liam realized that there was someone inside Eleanor Thorpe’s apartment—someone dressed in black and carrying a flash-light.

“What the hell?”

Was this the man he was waiting for, Eleanor Thorpe’s partner in crime? Or was Eleanor Thorpe about to become the victim of a burglary? Liam wasn’t going to wait around to find out. As he ran to the door and raced down the stairs, he grabbed his cell phone from his pocket and dialed 9-1-1. “Burglary in progress,” he said, bursting out the front door. “Six-seventeen Summer Street. Send a patrol car right away.”

Liam found the front door of the three-flat ajar and he took the steps two at a time, trying to keep quiet as he approached. He knew that the police wouldn’t arrive for at least a few minutes and hoped he wouldn’t be facing some fool with a gun.

When he reached the third story, he slowly pushed the door open and allowed his eyes to adjust to the light. Then he saw him, a figure of average height and weight, moving around the living room, his face hidden by a ski mask. Liam took a deep breath, knowing it would take the element of surprise to subdue the guy. If he could just knock him off his feet, his greater height and weight would win out in the end.

He steeled his resolve and said a silent prayer that the guy didn’t have a gun. Then he launched his body across the room, hitting the burglar square in the back and knocking him to the floor.

ELEANOR THORPE’S EYES opened suddenly and for a moment she wasn’t sure where she was—or what had brought her out of a deep sleep. But when she heard a thud come from the vicinity of her living room, she bolted upright in her bed and wiped the sleep from her eyes.

She held her breath and waited, wondering if the sound came from the street. She’d locked the door before going to bed and she lived on the third floor, too high for someone to crawl in the window. But the back porch allowed easy access. After moving from Manhattan, she was well aware of the perils of city living. But there was no denying the fact that someone was in her apartment!

Her mind began to whirl with the possibilities. Should she call the police first and then try to lock her bedroom door? Or should she make sure of her safety first? She reached for her bedside table, then remembered that she didn’t have a phone in her bedroom here, only in her old apartment in New York.

She slipped out of bed and tiptoed to the door. Only to realize it didn’t have a lock! Now what? Ellie took a ragged breath. She had two choices—get to a phone or take her chances with whomever was banging around her living room. Well, three really. She could hide under the bed. Or scream until someone came to her rescue—that was four.

Gathering her courage, she started down the hall. As she stepped into the living room, she grabbed a lamp. Suddenly a figure appeared out of the dark. Ellie shrieked as loud as she could, then swung the lamp at his head. The ceramic base cracked and a soft curse slipped from the man’s lips as he fell to his knees.

“Jeez, what the hell are you doing?” He rubbed his head. “That hurt!”

Ellie clutched the lamp tighter, determined this time to hit her mark. She raised it high. “Lie down on the floor and put your hands behind your head.”

“What?” He cursed again. “I came in here to—”

“Do it,” she threatened. “Or I’ll knock you senseless.”

“I’m not the one,” he said, feebly pointing across the living room. “It was him.”

Ellie glanced in the direction he pointed and noticed a dark figure crawling along the floor toward the open door of her apartment. Her first instinct was to find another lamp and throw it at his head. But she already had one of the burglars subdued. With his help, the police would be able to track down the other.

She caught movement from the corner of her eye just in time to find the man at her feet making a lunge for her waist. With a tiny cry of alarm, she brought the remains of the lamp crashing down on his head. He hit the floor with a thud as the other intruder stumbled down the stairs. Taking in another ragged breath, Ellie hurried over to the light switch and flipped it on.

The man lying on her Oriental rug didn’t look nearly as frightening as he had in the dark. She gave him a poke with her toe just to make sure he was out, then raced through the apartment to find something to bind his hands and feet. Plastic wrap and a few pair of panty hose would have to do.

She quickly trussed him up like a Thanksgiving turkey, sitting on the small of his back as she tied his feet to his hands. Then she sighed softly and began to search his pockets for some kind of identification. If he managed to escape, at least she’d have his name.

He groaned softly and Ellie jumped away from him, retreating across the room. She grabbed up the phone and dialed 9-1-1. “I’m calling the police,” she shouted. “Don’t try to escape.”

“Don’t bother,” he muttered. “I already called them on my way over here.”

“What do you mean?”

“I was here to help. I saw that guy breaking into your apartment, so I followed him in.”

Ellie frowned. “I don’t believe you.”

“Fine,” he said. “Let the cops sort it out.”

The emergency operator answered and Ellie quickly gave her the address, only to learn that the police were already on their way. Ellie informed them that she’d tied up the burglar and he’d be waiting for the police when they arrived. Then she hung up and watched her captive. Deciding she’d need another weapon, she ran to the kitchen and retrieved the biggest knife she could find. She perched on the arm of the sofa and watched him warily.

The burglar winced as he shifted, trying to get comfortable. “These knots are a little tight.”