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Hayes’ Bookstore is located in Greenwich Village, so all things considered, it’s a relatively safe neighborhood. Crime isn’t something I often concern myself with. Many people who live around here are more than well-off. Yet, something in their eyes tells me I must be on my toes. These are dangerous men.
The man in front of me is the tallest of the three, easily six-foot-five. His jet-black hair is long and wavy on top, fading toward his neck; a few strands fall across his forehead. He has piercing baby blue eyes and dark stubble covering his perfectly sculpted jaw.
His broad build is covered in a perfectly tailored, expensive navy blue suit, sans a tie and top button, and chocolate brown shoes. He has an intricate tattoo crawling up from underneath his collar and up the side of his neck. When I look down, I see that the backs of his hands and fingers are also covered in tattoos. Several of his fingers are decorated in ornate silver rings, and a couple of silver bracelets stick out from underneath his dress shirt.
“Harper.” He knows my name. “You need to come with us.” I barely register his words as I make eye contact with the one on my right. Like the man before me, everything about him screams, “I shouldn’t be messed with.” These two must be related. They look too similar.
Unlike the one in the middle, he looks softer. Not in a physical sense, his body looks hard as stone, but in the way his emotions play across his face. He seems genuinely concerned about how I’m about to react.
His hair is dark like the first one but is longer and more unkempt, like he just ran his fingers through it. He’s dressed far more casually than the other two men, wearing black jeans with holes on each knee, black biker boots, and a tight, you guessed it, black Henley shirt. His eyes are almost gray with flecks of blue. He’s clean-shaven, making the thin silver hoop in his nose stand out even more. He stands a couple of inches shorter than what I’m assuming is his brother and isn’t quite as broad.
Hold up, did they just say I need to come with them?
“Who are you? You need to leave,” I finally manage to speak.
The first man glares at me, looking frustrated, “Don’t worry about it. We can’t talk about it here. Once you’re safe in our apartment, we can explain everything.”
Don’t worry about it?! “What are you talking about? I am not going anywhere with the three of you. You need to leave, or I will call the police.” As I reach for my purse to pull out my phone, a firm hand grips my left arm, and I am rendered utterly speechless at how his skin feels against mine. How can three men, who are clearly threatening, have this effect on me?
The third guy is, like, model-worthy perfection. He looks about the same height as the first one but more slender. His honey-blonde hair is slicked back, out of the way of stunning caramel eyes. The beard that covers his face is well-groomed and beyond sexy. His black suit sits over a crisp white shirt and black tie. It doesn’t look like there’s a hair out of place, but when I look into his eyes, I can see the chaos brewing beneath his perfectly tailored exterior. “Don’t call the police. We can assure you that won’t be necessary.”
For three people who are trying to get me to go with them, they aren’t providing much information.
“Please, Harper, just do as we say,” the one on my right softly says. His deep voice, paired with his faint Irish accent, soothes my frayed nerves.
Just do as we say.
They aren’t leaving here without getting what they came for. Me.
I don’t know if it’s because I’m having a stroke or genuinely scared of what they might do if I say no, because, without another word, I take my hand out of my purse, step around the man in front of me and walk out the front door. As I turn around to lock the door, the biggest one pulls a key out of his suit pocket and locks it for me.
What the hell?
I’m definitely stroking out because I don’t even question it. I simply turn on my heels and walk towards the black SUV that I’d be willing to bet my life savings on is theirs. Sure shit, one of the men opens the back passenger side door, and I climb in.
“What the hell, Harp,” I mutter under my breath.
3
Finn
Shit. I can already tell that Harper will be a severe problem for me. I knew the second I saw her when we walked through that door.
That’s the cheesiest shit I have ever thought in my life.
Ronan drives us back to the apartment while Mac sits quietly in the front seat. I know he’s worried about whether or not Harper is freaking out. Of course, I’m in the back seat sitting next to her. I should have called shotgun. My dick can’t handle being this close to her. Harper’s staring out the window, hands in her lap, silently picking at her fingernails and chewing her lip. God, I’d like to bite that lip.
Chill the hell out, Finn.
I can’t seem to pull my eyes away from her. I’m not even being subtle about it. Her thick and unruly cocoa-brown hair falls past her shoulders and reaches what I’m sure are her perfect breasts. She has her black-rimmed reading glasses pulled into her hair, giving me an unobstructed view of her face. That beautiful face. She has the greenest eyes I have ever seen in my life, like the color of the rarest emerald, and the bridge of her nose and cheeks are the perfect shade of pink, covered in a light dusting of freckles.
She’s not the type of woman we are usually drawn towards. Fake, plastic, and dumb enough not to ask too many questions. No, Harper has curves in all of the right places. Her curvy frame looks like something I want to sink my teeth into. My eyes gaze over her long legs, tucked into a pair of skintight jeans with holes in all the right places. She has a pair of boots with a small heel that makes her legs look like absolute fucking perfection. Just looking at her sitting in this car makes my cock strain against my zipper.
Not fucking good.
We were completely prepared to drag Harper out of the bookstore, kicking and screaming, but much to our surprise, she left without much of an argument and climbed right into the car. I don’t know if it’s because she is naïve and unaware of all the dangers of the world or if she has a more adventurous side than meets the eye. Something tells me it’s a bit of both.
Ronan pulls into the parking garage of our building and drives to the lowest level. When Liam and Emma bought this apartment they also bought out a whole level of the parking garage and had a security gate installed. No one is allowed down here but us and those we approve of in advance.
