He’s going to. I can see it in his eyes. His mouth is open, and the words are poised to roll off his tongue.
But then the door bursts open.
And my hard work disappears into a void of quicksand.
“What the ever-loving fuck?”
The words are accented. Unmistakably Irish. Before I even shift my gaze to collide with the bastard in the door frame, I know who has come to collect.
The Irish mafia.
I was supposed to leave town for a while. That’s what I told Mack I would do.
Like attracts like, and it’s no exception for my only friend. She’s as batshit crazy as I am. And since she went poking around in the mafia’s business, she’s landed both of us in some hot water.
It’s nothing I can’t handle. Or her for that matter. And I really did have the best intentions of following through on my promise to her. After I took care of this business first.
But now, here I sit, beatus interruptus.
I haven’t met this asshole before. But he’s eyeing me like I’m a little fucking insane. Between the brass knuckles and my blood-spattered dress, he’d be right to assume that. No doubt.
So I hope he’s thinking carefully before he comes at me. Because I won’t go down without a fight. And I want to rip his fucking balls off for interrupting Teddy’s confessional.
“What in the bleeding hell are ye doing to that poor lad?” he asks me.
“Nothing less than what he deserves,” I answer.
The guy blinks and gives me an almost sympathetic expression, which only pisses me off more.
“We haven’t met,” he tells me. “I’m Rory.”
“And?”
His mouth twitches, and he seems to be amused by my behavior for whatever reason.
“And it’s a pleasure to meet me, aye? That’s what the ladies usually say. Now, sweetheart, I need ye to come with me. Just for a wee bit.”
And I need you to fuck off. Just for a wee bit.
“This is about Mack, isn’t it?”
Suspicion takes over his eyes as I move towards him innocently.
“Do you think because I’m a hooker, I just do whatever men tell me?”
His eyes dart to the man groaning behind me before he answers.
“I’m guessing probably no,” he says.
His eyes are still laughing, but there’s nothing humorous about this. I don’t like being cornered, and no amount of pleasantries are going to get me out of this room with him.
I ply the brass knuckles from my hand and hesitate for a moment before handing them off to him. Concern fills my eyes and my voice, but it’s all false.
“Is Mack okay?”
He nods, thinking he understands me. Thinking I’ll do whatever he says now to protect Mack. The thing is though… Mack takes care of herself.
And so do I.
