Page 10 of His Kidnapped Irish Mafia Virgin

Instead, I stood there for a moment, staring at the building and thinking through how the night had gone until all the pieces started to come together.

A woman with a hidden past.

A background report with nothing but holes.

A strange man asking for her by name.

That same stranger standing outside her apartment after leaving Murphy’s.

None of those things completely proved that Nora was in danger, and I refused to invent threats just because my imagination filled in the blanks. I knew from experience that assumptions got people burned, but I also knew from experience that patterns should be respected, especially unexplained ones.

I put my hands in my pockets and walked away from the building, already knowing where I’d go next. The background check I’d ordered weeks earlier wasn’t wrong, but it hadn’t dug far enough. I had a reason to push harder now. This wasn’t just simple curiosity anymore.

I would tell the boys that I needed more on that initial report. I wanted every record that existed, all the old addresses, every job she’d ever held, any aliases associated with her.

I walked back toward the bar as another thought quietly settled into place. For the past few weeks, I’d been investigating Nora Walsh because she was intriguing. Now I was doing it because someone else had decided she was worth watching, and I couldn’t walk away until I knew exactly why.

CHAPTER FIVE

Nora

By the time I returned to the bar, I’d almost convinced myself the worst was behind me. Missing a shift had cost me money I couldn’t afford to lose, and I’d spent the entire night alone inside my apartment doing nothing.

I walked between the sofa and the kitchen with a book I wasn’t really reading. The television was just making noise to fill the silence. Every few minutes I told myself to stop thinking about the feeling I’d had after my last shift at the bar, but I couldn’t stop thinking about it.

As I paced the apartment, I’d realized that I couldn’t keep hiding from a fear I didn’t even understand. I still had to pay my rent. My bills were still coming on time. My jobs didn’t care if I was feeling anxious or not.

Walking into the bar through the staff entrance felt nice. The noise reached me before anything else did. It was a mix of glasses clinking, people laughing, raised voices, and feet moving quickly. Someone in the kitchen called out for another order.

A bartender polished glasses behind the counter. Two waitresses argued about whose turn it was to fill the ice bins. It was busy and noisy. After being alone with my thoughts last night, I liked the simple routine of it all.

A few people said hello to me as I put on my apron and put my notepad in my pocket. One of the waitresses asked if I was feeling better. I told her that I’d just had a bug and that it was gone after a day of rest.

It was easier than telling her that I wasn’t really sick in the usual sense. My body was fine. It was my mind that was the problem, but I didn’t want to talk about that.

Before long, the quiet of getting ready gave way to the pace of a busy shift. Orders came in one after another. Drinks disappeared as soon as they got to the tables. I got back into the routine that I knew well. It was nice to have a lot to do, because every tray I carried and every order I took distracted me from thoughts that I didn’t need to have.

By the middle of the evening, I wasn’t counting the hours anymore. I was just moving from one table to the next, smiling and saying sorry when the kitchen took too long.

I saw the guy from the beer incident, Liam, a few times during the night. He was moving through the room in the calm and confident way he always did.

I saw him talk quietly to one of the bartenders after a customer got loud. Whatever he said was enough to calm the situation down before it became a problem. Later, he held the door for a delivery driver who had his hands full, and then he disappeared into the crowd again without waiting for a thank-you.

None of it was special on its own, but together it showed that he was someone who liked to solve problems before they became noticeable.

Every now and then my thoughts went back to the night I met Liam. I remembered the moment when I spilled a whole pitcher of beer on him. The embarrassment had faded a bit with time, but some of it was still there.

The hours went by faster than I’d thought they would. Before I knew it, the rush was over.

I helped clear the last of the glasses and wiped down a few tables, then took off my apron and put it away. I said goodnight to the other servers, put on my jacket, and stepped outside. I was already thinking about a hot shower and going to bed before I had to do it all again the next day.

The door closed behind me. I adjusted my bag on my shoulder and turned toward the street that I walked down every night. I’d been walking this route for weeks now, so I didn’t need to think about where I was going. My feet just knew the way.

My legs hurt from standing all day, and all I could think about was taking off my shoes when I got home. That made me smile to myself. When I was younger I used to get excited about staying up late. Now all I wanted was a shower and a good night’s sleep.

I switched my bag to my other shoulder when I got to the first crossing on the route. There were two people waiting with me, both staring at their phones. When the traffic lights changed, we crossed the road together, then went our separate ways.

There was a convenience store on the corner of the route that was still open. The windows were bright, and the light spilled out onto the pavement as I slowed down to hold the door for a man who was carrying groceries. He thanked me and I smiled at him. It was a small thing, but it reminded me that there was still kindness in the world.