“My boy wasn’t harassing her, Peter,” Rory said and looked to his other son for confirmation.
The dignified looking pub owner merely nodded his head in agreement, and though his face remained calm, his body seemed tense, ready to leap forward at the first signal.
“I can assure you that I did not know she was your daughter when I arrested her, but that doesn't change the circumstances. She was involved in the late-night brawl and struck an officer.” He gestured to his now crooked nose.
She couldn’t help it, she had to smile, especially considering the size of the man. Maybe it was the boxer in her, but she had already assessed each man in the room and felt confident she could take them on, one on one of course.
“Are you really going to have a little pout and whine because you were struck by a girl?” her father taunted.
Her blood boiled at the statement. A little girl? Her father knew she was more than that, and she was perfectly capable of taking on most men, which was more than she could say for the redheaded oaf beside her. He may have size on his side, but his form was terrible.
“That's the thing about equality, Mr. Walsh,” Kilian said with a sly grin, “We charge people with the same crimes regardless of sex.”
“You’re really going to put a young woman in a cell all night?” her father demanded, seeming to realize he couldn’t fight the law and win.
“Maybe I will. After all, she attacked someone, laid him out on the ground. He's a mess.” Kilian said, and gestured to Ron who had perked up some amongst the excitement between her father and the Kellys.
“Laid out,” Ron snorted. “I've never been laid out by anyone, let alone a woman.”
That did it. Without thinking, she bared her teeth, raised her knee high to her chest, and kicked hard at the chair across from her. Ron, still handcuffed in the chair, fell hard.
The room went silent, and for a moment she wondered if she’d managed to knock him unconscious, then pouted when she realized he was merely winded.
“This is what I'm talking about,” Kilian snapped, and gestured to Ron, not bothering to help him up, “To the wrong man, she's dangerous.”
“Dangerous,” her father scoffed.
“And don't you forget it!” She snarled down at Ron who was finally able to inhale a choking gasp.
“We can't have her going around knocking men unconscious,” Kilian said with a casual lift of his shoulder.
“Not- not unconscious,” Ron groaned.
“Not yet,” Grace sneered, and thought of the satisfying crunch his nose would make from under her boot.
“That's enough, Grace,” her father barked, sending her pulse racing in her veins. “I'll take her home and keep her out of trouble.”
Kilian said nothing, merely appraised her in a way that left her uncomfortable.
“Kilian,” Rory said, catching his son’s eye.
The pub owner stepped forward and nodded his head as if agreeing to a silent conversation. He turned to face his brother, whose mouth twitched, and he nodded too.
It was fascinating the way the men communicated with nods and single words, and she wondered how long it had taken them to master this silent language.
“Fine, she can go, but I'd like a word with Miss Walsh first.”
“Absolutely not,” her father snapped, appalled at the very idea.
“I can speak with her here,” Kilian said, “Or I can speak with her down at my office. Which would you rather?” The two men stared for a moment before her father turned away and raked his fingers through his thin hair.
“Use your brain, girl,” he whispered and rested a hand on her shoulder.
Understanding perfectly, Grace nodded and turned her attention back to Kilian.
The men pulled the exhausted looking redhead from the ground and filed out the door.
“Keep an eye on Trouble,” Kilian said as he nodded toward Ron.
