Although, maybe I would have if I’d thought of it.
Especially when he’s offering to shoot whoever comes in the door after me. The whole city knows he and Rory have been gunning for each other for years. I bet he’d do it without hesitation.
I shiver again. I’m not cold. It’s May. It’s twenty-three degrees outside. The sun is splitting the stones, and I’ve spent the last thirty minutes running barefoot through the city. Yet, I’m trembling like I’m in the Antarctic.
‘Dominic. Call me Dominic,’ he insists as his sharp eyes peruse every inch of me.
‘Well, Dominic,’ I pause, as his name rolls from my tongue. ‘I thought I could go through with it, then when I saw him standing there, saw the predatory glint in his beady black eyes… I just… couldn’t. So I ran. And somehow I ended up here.’ I swirl the amber coloured liquid around my glass.
His pupils bore into mine like he’s searching my soul. ‘So, it was fate,’ he muses.
‘I’m not sure I believe in fate.’ I click my tongue against the roof of my mouth. ‘But I do believe in fighting for what you believe in and fucking over anyone who fucks you over.’
He laughs then, low and deep. ‘You might actually be my soulmate,’ he jokes—at least I think he’s joking. ‘So, what now?’ He takes a sip of his whiskey, then places it down on the counter. I watch as he grabs an empty ice bucket, dumps it in the sink, then turns the tap on, sticking his finger beneath the water like he’s testing the temperature. When he’s satisfied, he shoves the bucket beneath it and fills it.
‘I have to find somewhere to lie low. Hewillcome for me.’ I exhale heavily.
Dominic’s entire body goes taut. He cracks his knuckles, slowly, one hand at a time. His black eyes blaze into mine. ‘Of course he’s going to come for you, look at you, you’re fucking stunning.’ He shrugs then, like he didn’t just hand me the biggest compliment of my life.
Heat flushes my face. Apparently Dominic Kincaid is a flatterer as well as a murderer.
‘How the hell did a nice girl like you end up engaged to a cunt like him?’ he tuts.
‘My father stole from him,’ I stammer. ‘Then couldn’t repay him. He offered me instead.’
His jaw tenses as he turns the tap off, glancing down at the half full bucket, ‘Your father is a fucking abomination.’
‘Agreed. But that doesn’t mean I want him dead.’ I sigh.
‘You don’t?’ He quirks a thick dark eyebrow.
‘No.’ I shake my head. ‘He’s weak. Selfish. Stupid. I want him out of my life—permanently. But I don’t want him dead.’
‘What about your mother? Why didn’t she put a stop to this?’
‘She’s dead,’ I admit quietly.
‘I’m sorry for your loss.’ He bows his head in a seemingly genuine gesture. ‘What about brothers? Sisters?’
I glower at him, as Jason’s face springs to the forefront of my mind. My chest tightens. ‘I had a brother, Jason. He died when I was thirteen.’
‘I’m sorry,’ he says solemnly.
It’s on the tip of my tongue to say, ‘so you fucking should be,’ but I don’t have a death wish.
I frown as he lifts the bucket and carries it around to my side of the bar.‘What are you doing?’ I whisper as he drops to his knees in front of me.
‘Taking care of your feet. They’re bleeding.’ He deadpans, like it was obvious.
The breath whooshes from my chest as he takes my right foot in his hand and lowers it into the warm water. It stings as the water seeps into the open cuts. I hiss, but it’s impossible to concentrate on the pain when the most formidable man in Dublin is crouching on his knees, sweeping his huge hands over my heels with a gentleness he doesn’t look capable of.
He tips his chin up to meet my eyes. ‘Does that hurt?’
‘No,’ I lie, bringing the whiskey to my lips. I take the tiniest sip, because this—what’s happening right now—is even more shocking than the earlier events of the day, and that’s no mean feat.
‘Good girl,’ he murmurs, his deep, gritty voice is thick with approval.
Good girl.
