Tempted Trapped and Too Late to Run

Tara had to summon every bit of self-control she had not to burst in and drag the two of them apart.

She stepped back, quietly closed the door to the suite, and through the shrinking gap, she caught a glimpse of Clara's flushed face-Clara tried to turn away, but he firmly cupped her chin, pulling her back for another kiss.

The door finally clicked shut. Tara stood outside, half hidden in the darkness, her expression as cold and fierce as a thunderstorm.

Just then, Flynn stepped out from the neighboring suite. He saw Tara standing there, spaced out, and came over.

"Tara, why aren't you going in?"

Her face quickly smoothed into something normal. "Uncle, when you said you'd help me, did you really mean it?"

It was only then that Flynn noticed her red eyes, the way she looked like she might cry at any second.

When his sister was dying, she'd made him promise to take care of this niece of his.noveldrama

He reached out, pulling her close, and led her down the hall to another suite. "What's wrong? Tell me what happened."

Tara bit her lip, that scene with Clara replaying in her mind, and finally spilled everything.

Flynn sat her down, pulled out a tissue, and handed it over. "Don't cry."

Tara dabbed at her eyes, then tilted her head back, trying to steady herself.

She'd always thought she was confident enough-thought she could take down Clara without even trying. But tonight proved she'd underestimated her.

Flynn watched her calm down so quickly, and a spark of admiration flashed in his eyes. "I'll figure something out. I'll be in Capital for a while-if anything's wrong, just come to me."

"Thank you, Uncle."

Tara wasn't the type to drown in her own misery. Once she got herself together, she started telling Flynn everything she knew about Clara.

Meanwhile, next door, Clara felt like she was about to drown.

She tried to push Dylan away, her voice barely above a whisper, a little desperate. "Stop kissing me."

Her head rested against his chest, eyes closed, lips still glistening from his kisses.

Dylan's hand was still on the back of her head, holding her gently against his heart.

He lowered his eyes, brushed a stray strand of hair behind her ear with his fingertips.

"Alright, I'll stop."

With that promise—and a healthy dose of alcohol-Clara drifted straight off to sleep.

Dylan finally looked up and took in the rest of the room.

Nicholas looked totally out of place, clearly wanting to leave but unsure if he should, so he just sat there, stubbornly waiting it out. There's no way they're gonna actually do anything with us here, he thought.

Jackson, who'd been shocked at first, now stared into his glass as if he could will it to bloom.

Richard sat propped on one hand, scrolling through his phone, acting like none of this was his business.

When he noticed Dylan was finally done, Richard put his phone away. "So, where were we?"

Dylan gave a quiet nod.

Sometimes Jackson was honestly amazed by how unshakeable Richard was-he could go from chaos to business as usual in a heartbeat. It was kind of impressive.

Richard leaned back. "They ID'd the

dead guy he worked for Aaron. He

snuck in that night, not sure what he

was after, but I doubt he ever expected someone would throw a grenade.”

Jackson and Nicholas never got involved in these things. They didn't ask questions either. As far as they were concerned, if a brother needed help, he'd ask. If not, that meant everything was fine.

Dylan kept his hand on Clara's head, gently patting her, soothing her to sleep.

Clara was out in no time. She hadn't really slept much lately-today was the first time she'd gotten any real rest.

Richard glanced at Dylan's hand, still tenderly coaxing Clara to sleep, and clicked his tongue. “Man, I've never seen anyone spoil their wife like you do.”