Page 5 of Lawless Rivals

Despite being so naive, the warmth of Saint’s mouth lingers on my lips like smoke after a blaze.

I curse myself for having enjoyed the heat.

The worst part isn’t that he kissed me. It’s what my body did about it.

My hands went to his lapels and my mouth opened for him. When he pulled back, I followed, mindlessly leaning in after him. I felt it burn low in my belly, that hot ache between my thighs, the want of a stranger’s hands shoved up under my dress.

Three seconds. That’s all it took to have me wet for a man whose name I didn’t know.

I grit my teeth and bury that thought somewhere it can’t embarrass me.

Beneath the rough bag covering my head, I can’t see a damn thing, and all I smell is dirt and oil. Thankfully it’s killed that musky cologne of his that made my veins sing.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” I scream, squirming in the seat. “My father will kill you for this.”

“Nah.” Saint’s husky voice sends a ripple through me. “He’ll pay one of his hounds. Harringtons don’t do their own dirty work. Everyone knows that.”

“Screw you⁠—”

“Besides,” he says, a hint of amusement in his tone, “they won’t know it was us. Not yet. Don’t want the Garda on my land before the handover finally happens.”

“You’re disgusting.” I spit the words.

A deep rumble of laughter follows. “That’s not what you were thinking when ya kissed me.”

“You kissed me,” I grit. “With your stale-ash breath and nasty aftershave.”

“What the fuck, Saint?” the other Tallon chirps in. “Why would ya kiss a Harrington?”

There’s a beat of silence before Saint’s voice comes thick and hoarse. “I did what I had to do. Sometimes we make sacrifices, Rafe.”

“Sacrifices?” I hiss, the sting of his insult burning when it shouldn’t. “Put your crusty lips near me again, Tallon, and I’ll bite off your damn tongue.”

“She’s got fire,” Rafe chuckles.

The stereo explodes—Little Lion Man with banjos accompanied by one of the Tallons drumming on the dash just to twist the knife.

They turn it up when I shout so the music drowns me out. My voice doesn’t matter here.

I close my eyes and breathe, tasting the dust and bitterness of anger. The car speeds over uneven ground and takes bends too fast. Inwardly, I count heartbeats instead of miles, forcing my fear down where they can’t see it.

The Tallons have taken a huge risk. Scrappy, uncouth bastards. Rivals to my family long before I was born, they’ve dragged me into their bullshit now.

Eventually, the car jerks to a stop, throwing me against the seatbelt. Then someone kills Mumford and Sons, and all I hear now are barking dogs.

After a beat, doors slam, gravel crunches, and cold air hits.

“Out,” Rafe commands.

When I don’t move fast enough, a hand grips my arm. Before I can twist away, I’m hauled outside and thrown over a shoulder like a sack of spuds. My stomach lurches.

The atmosphere changes as we enter somewhere enclosed. I’m dumped onto my feet, and the bag is pulled off my head, messing up my hair in the process.

A bulb hung overhead slashes light into my eyes as my vision adjusts.

Fresh hay, damp wood, and the faint musk of animals shoot up my nostrils. Blinking, my gaze darts left and right, seeing only Rafe, rows of horse stalls and two Rottweilers sniffing around my ankles.

“Where are we?” My voice cracks, but I force it louder. “Is this Black Heath Stud?”