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Me: . . . After I ripped two of his fingers from his hand.
Finn: Nice.
Ronan: I need you to pull the last of the money from the bank and check on things for Harper.
A thought pops into my head.
Me: Why don’t I just take her with me?
The three of us have hardly seen Harper since we woke up Monday morning. It’s now Wednesday. Ronan has barely come out of his office, Finn has been running between Kings and the docks, and I’ve been running all over the goddamn city, cleaning up all kinds of bullshit. We haven’t even eaten a single meal together since dinner Sunday, and when the three of us finally come to bed at night, we crawl into her bed, half dead with exhaustion. I don’t want Harper to think we’ve forgotten about her or that we’ve forgotten about everything we need to take care of for her.
When Ronan doesn’t answer right away, I send another text.
Me: It would be good for her to go. She hasn’t been in once since we brought her to us, and I know she misses it.
The store has been closed since we took her that night. We’ve been supplementing her income, plus a little extra, all while making sure the building itself is maintained. Even though it’s not open, I know just being within the walls of her family’s store would be good for her.
Finn: He’s right, Ronan. It’s important to her.
Ronan: Okay, take her. But don’t be gone long. And if you see anything even remotely suspicious, and I mean anything, Mac, you bring her back here.
Finn: I’m still catching up on a fuckload of paperwork at Kings, but I can meet you there if you want me to?
Me: Nah, man. I’ve got it.
Finn: Figured as much. Be careful and take care of our girl. I’ll see you guys later.
Me: Ronan, I’ll be there in fifteen. Send her down and have her wait with Ralph. He’s out front today.
Ronan: Okay. I mean it, Mac.
Me: I know, brother. I’ve got her.
Pulling up in front of our building, I roll down the window and nod to Ralph. He walks inside, and a moment later, walks out with Harper holding onto his arm. He must say something charming because her whole face lights up in a smile.
I quickly climb out of my deep red Aston Martin DB12 and run around the front to open the passenger side door. Once they both reach me, Ralph pats her hand where it rests in the crook of his elbow. “Have a nice afternoon, Miss Hayes.”
She squeezes his hand. “Please, Ralph, call me Harper.”
He looks at me in question, and I quickly dip my chin, letting him know that’s fine. “Okay, Harper. Have fun.”
“Thanks, Ralph,” I say before he retreats to his post at the front of the building.
Harper’s arms wrap around my neck as I spin her and pin her to the side of the car with my body. “You look beautiful today, Mo Grá.”
Her fingers wind through the back of my hair, and I lean into the touch. “Thank you. I really didn’t have time to get ready. I hope this is okay.”
She’s wearing dark-washed ripped jeans with holes at each knee, a vintage Motley Crew T-shirt, black Converse, and a light gray peacoat with the buttons undone. Her brown curls are thrown into a messy bun, and her glasses are still on top of her head, letting me know her face was buried in a book.
She looks fucking perfect.
I press a soft, quick kiss to her lips. “You’re perfect.”
“You’re pretty perfect yourself.” Reluctantly, I pull from her arms and guide her into her seat. Before she can, I grab the seat belt and buckle her in. I climb into the car and return to the busy city streets.
“Where are we going anyway?” she asks, mindlessly looking out her window at the busy city around us.
I watch her out of the corner of my eye as I answer, “The bookstore.”
