Nick would have liked to have said more. Oh, he’d have loved to. But it was hard to argue with a seven-foot man holding a meat cleaver. He went back to muttering.

Rio smiled, and noted that Rachel was eyeing the sandwich. “How ’bout I fix you some hot meal? You can eat after you finish your business.”

“Oh, I…” Her mouth was watering. “I really should get home.”

“Zack, he’s going to see you home after you’re done. It’s too late for a woman to go walking the streets by herself.”

“I don’t need—”

“Dish her up some of your chili, Rio,” Zack suggested as he pulled Rachel toward a set of stairs. “This won’t take long.”

Rachel found herself trapped, hip to hip with him in a narrow staircase. He smelled of the sea, she realized, of that salty, slightly electric scent that meant a storm was brewing beyond the horizon. “It’s very kind of you to offer, Muldoon, but I don’t need a meal, or an escort.”

“You’ll get both, need them or not.” He turned, effectively trapping her against the wall. It felt good to have his body brush hers. As good as he’d imagined it would. “I never argue with Rio. I met him in Jamaica about six years ago—in a little bar tussle. I watched him pick up a two-hundred-pound man and toss him through a wall. Now, Rio’s mostly a peaceful sort of man, but if you get him riled, there’s no telling what he might do.” Zack lifted a hand and wound a lock of Rachel’s hair around his finger. “Your hair’s wet.”

She slapped his hand away and tried to pretend her heart wasn’t slamming in her throat. “It’s raining.”

“Yeah. I can smell it on you. You sure are something to look at, Rachel.”

She couldn’t move forward, couldn’t move back, so she did the only thing open to her. She bristled like a cornered cat. “You’re in my way, Muldoon. My advice is to move your butt and save the Irish charm for someone who’ll appreciate it.”

“In a minute. Was that Russian you yelled after your brother today?”

“Ukrainian,” she said between her teeth.

“Ukrainian.” He considered that, and her. “I never made it to the Soviet Union.”

She lifted a brow. “Neither have I. Now can we save this discussion until after I’ve seen the living arrangements?”

“All right.” He started up the steps again, his hand on the small of her back. “It’s not much, but I can guarantee it’s a large step up from the dump Nick was living in. I don’t know why he—” He cut himself off and shrugged. “Well, it’s done.”

Rachel had a feeling it was just beginning.

CHAPTER THREE