Flawless (New York Confidential #1)(33)

Once again, as everyone in the pub broke into whistles, toasts and applause, all Kieran wanted was to crawl under the table.

She felt her face burn, but she forced a smile and waved.

Then she felt Craig Frasier’s face close to hers, very close, as he whispered to her, “What’s the matter? Aren’t you enjoying your fifteen minutes of fame?”

She turned to look at him, dismayed. And apparently he saw honesty in her face at last.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “Really. It’s just that—well, most angels would want their moment of fame and the thanks of an entire city.”

“Anyone would have done it,” she said almost desperately.

“Actually, no. A lot of people would have jumped back or panicked, afraid they’d be pulled down. You need to give yourself more credit for your quick thinking and competence. But then again, I’ve seen you in action. Now, you’ve saved two people... Angel.”

“I saved you from a water pistol,” she reminded him, and suddenly she couldn’t take it any longer. “Julie, gentlemen, if you’ll all forgive me, I really need to go home and crawl under the covers.”

“Of course,” Julie said, looking guilty, as if she were personally responsible for Kieran’s need to escape.

Which in a way she was, Kieran thought.

The men stood, and Kieran couldn’t stop herself from glancing over at Craig.

He was looking over at Kevin, who was standing by the bar, a towel in his hand. She could have sworn that the two men exchanged a look, and that her brother nodded.

In two seconds Kevin was beside her. “You ready to head home?” he asked.

“Yes.” She couldn’t keep a tinge of suspicion out of her voice.

“Cool. I’m ready when you are.”

“You coming with me again?”

“Another shoot in the morning,” he said. “We’ll catch a cab. You’ve had a long day.”

“I’m done eating,” Craig said. “I’ll drop the two of you, then swing back for Mike and my boss.”

It seemed agonizingly long to Kieran, though it was only a few minutes, before they headed out to the street. Declan had to hug her, then Danny, and then half the pub again. But finally she was in the car next to Craig with Kevin behind her, headed toward St. Marks.

“You know it will be a few days before people leave you alone, right?” Kevin asked her.

“What do you mean?” she asked, glancing worriedly back at Kevin.

“You’re the girl of the moment,” Kevin said. He looked out the window, as if searching for hidden paparazzi. “Reporters, bloggers, anyone looking for an audience is going to try to interview you. I guess people don’t know you’re a Finnegan’s Finnegan or the place would have been crawling with reporters.”

Kieran leaned her head back and groaned softly.

“Don’t worry. It will end soon,” Craig assured her. “The press is fickle. They’ve already forgotten about the other night, and they’ll move on again as soon as there’s a new sensation or a juicy scandal.”

“Must be something going on at the karaoke bar,” Kevin said, sitting forward to peer out the windshield as they drew close to her building. “Reporters, I bet. The wolves are congregating.”

“Great. Everyone knows where I live. How is that?” Kieran asked.

“Easy enough information to find,” Craig said.

“I can’t believe this,” she said, falling back on the seat and staring ahead. What if she didn’t go home? She could sleep on a sofa at the office. That would be fine.

“What do you want to do?” Kevin asked her.

“Back to the pub, to a hotel, my office—anywhere but here,” Kieran said.

Craig kept driving past the clump of reporters milling on the sidewalk.

She hoped the karaoke bar would at least get some extra business from curiosity seekers drawn by the men and women of the media with their cameras, notepads and microphones, then staying to sing.

Craig pulled over about five minutes later, near Cooper Union and about a block off Broadway.

“Where are we?” she asked.

“My place. We’ll hang out here for a bit. Maybe I can get you home unnoticed in a few hours,” Craig said. “If not, I have an extra bedroom and an office with a sofa. Plenty of room.”

“In New York City?” she asked incredulously, staring at him.

“I bought my place right after the housing collapse about ten years ago,” he explained briefly. “Anyway, make yourselves comfortable.”

“What about your boss and your partner?” Kieran asked.

“I’ll give them a call.”

“You’re going to make your boss call a cab?” She was incredulous.

Craig shrugged that off. “We’re sworn to protect and serve. That comes first.”

She wasn’t sure that protecting a woman from the press fell into that category, but Craig Frasier seemed completely comfortable with what he was doing.

He found a place to park on the street, quiet except for the faint sounds of music and revelry from a horror-themed club on Broadway. While making his call, which seemed to go fine, he led them to his building door, unlocked it after quickly sifting through his keys, then led them down a hall.