My jaw drops open.
“And we’re going to start right now, love. I don’t want you to see anything on the way. I want you to rely on your other senses.”
I feel him reach down and take something—I can’t quite see what it is. A T-shirt? He slides it over my eyes and ties it at the back.
“You wear my fucking coat so nobody sees you like this too.”
And then, just like that first night by the cliffs, he drapes his jacket over my shoulders.
“Let’s go.”
Just like usual, he lifts me and slides me over his shoulder. My bag is back with my bodyguards.
“Cavin, I have to?—”
His hand claps across my arse. “You have to obey your husband. That’s what you have to do, love.”
My heart beats a frantic rhythm in my chest. How can someone feel both scared and utterly safe at the very same time?
I know The Craic and the ring are within walking distance. Is he… walking with me, over his shoulder, blindfolded?
I believe he is.
Cavin!
How did he just beat the shite out of the man in the ring and still have the stamina tocarry meto the club?
I feel a rush of warm air and hear a hush come over the crowd. And they go wild—clapping, screaming. They must see me over his shoulder likeI’mhis purse of winnings tonight.
Oh mygod. I feel a bit dizzy.
“Mr. McCarthy, sir.” Someone says. “Can I help you, sir?”
“Bring my car around,” he says. “Have my cousin park it at The Craic. And as per usual, have my purse sent to the same place as always.”
He doesn’t know yet what I’ve been doing with his winnings. He will soon. Makes me feel like I have a bit of control here, even when I’m being hauled to my doom by my modern-day caveman, who’s two steps away from banging his chest with a damn club.
I've got my own secrets. And mine actually make money.
“Right away, sir.”
I can hear the sounds of music, laughter, people drinking, and glasses clinking. But his hand is possessive on my lower back, and everybody who speaks to him speaks with respect.
“Mr. McCarthy, well done, sir. Proud of you.”
“Fuckin’ honor to see you back in the ring, sir.”
And then we’re outside. The weather shifts, but I’m not cold because I’m still wearing his coat.
“Are you still half naked?” I yell out, and he pinches my arse.
“Of course not,” he growls, but I can hear the laughter in his voice. “Pulled on a tee.”
“Aye, it’s got to be near freezing, and you’re wearin’ naught but a tee?”
“I’m hot,” he says. “Be a good girl and be quiet before I take away your permission to speak.”
“Oh my goodness, you can’t?—”
