“Is this where yer grandfather died?”
I froze. Something in my body language probably confirmed it, because he continued “It happened right here! So cool.”
I jerked my head back, disgust twisting my face. “What do you mean,cool?”
Conor wasn’t paying attention to me. I realized it hadn’t been me he was interested in this whole night.
He bit his lip, practically fondling the bloodstain. “There’s rumors ya know. That it wasn’t robbers who broke in, but cultists. Pagans who worship the old gods, looking to open the portal into the Otherworld and start life over, away from modern Ireland.”
“Why would cultists break into an old antique shop and murder my grandparents?”
“Rumor has it that they’re guarding an old artifact, something with magical power that could help gain access to the Otherworld.”
“Where did you hear about that?” I snapped, the urge to punch him in the throat building with every second.
“It’s everywhere. Irish folk love their stories. I can only imagine what everyone back at the pub will say when they hear I rode the last McCrum on the very counter her grandfather bled out. That’ll be a tale to get me a few free rounds for sure.”
Chapter Four
Maeve
Iwas so shocked by the words spilling from Conor’s mouth that I couldn’t make myself move. Not only did this whole thing about cultists make a scary amount of sense, but cold horror washed over me as I realized this man wasn’t interested in me.
He was only interested in my connection to the McCrum legend.
“G–get out,” I finally managed when he dipped down for another kiss.
I tried to push him away but he gripped my wrists, painfully tight. “Come on. Ya invited me here fer a tour and I intend to get one. Now be a good host and open yer legs.”
He gripped my knees and pried my thighs apart, ignoring my attempts to shove him away.
He wedged himself between my legs as he held them open by force. He was still as hard as a rock. His cock seemed to grow the harder I fought.
“Y—you sick fuck!”
“Call me whatever ya want. Ya don’t fool me. Ya said so yerself. Yer lonely, and need someone to talk to. No need to talk to the shop, ya got me.”
This creep wasn’t going to let up. I stopped struggling and he laughed. “That’s a good girl. Now, how do you want it?”
A sudden calmness swept over me as an idea bloomed in the forefront of my mind. “Can you go down on me?”
I half expected Conor to say no. Obviously, he was a selfish lover, considering he wasn’t familiar with the word “no.”
So a heady combination of shock, disgust and relief washed through me as he got on his knees and lifted my tartan skirt. He was too busy pulling my panties down my legs to notice me lean back on the counter and reach for the old revolver my grandfather kept stashed beneath the register.
It didn’t work. Maybe if it had he would still be alive.
But Conor wouldn’t know that it was broken, or that it wasn’t even loaded. I took aim at his head and made a show of cocking the hammer. At the lock click of metal, Conor glanced up from my thighs.
If this wasn’t such a scary situation, I would have laughed at the sheer terror on his face. Good. I never wanted him to forget the terror he felt in this moment, staring down the barrel of my gun.
“What the feck is that for?”
“Oh, so you’re not only a disgusting twit, but you’re stupid too? Haven’t you heard? I’m descended from a long and distinguished line of people who’ve made their living killing monsters. In today’s world, that means you.”
The man slowly raised his hands in the air and got up from the floor. “I’ll just go then. I didn’t mean anything by it. I was just—just faffin’ around.”
“Wellfaffsomewhere else, you bastard.”
