Page 38 of Guarding Salvation

Bram angled his head to the side, his blue eyes on her, the firelight flickering behind him. “But?”

“But I know my father.”

Bram’s jaw tensed in anger. “Your father never met me before. I promise you, Aoife, I’ll keep you safe or die trying.”

Never in her life had anyone given her such a vow, let alone a man she’d only known a few weeks. Yet the pull between them was undeniable and she believed him when he said he’d protect her. “Thank you, Bram. I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you for what you’re doing for me.”

“No thanks needed. Now, get some rest. Breakfast is at eight and you can bet your ass Mrs M will be all over you. After breakfast, I thought I’d show you the estate if you want to see it.”

“That sounds perfect.”

Bram leaned and kissed her cheek, making her breath catch in her throat at the contact, butterflies going crazy against her insides.

As she got ready for bed, brushing her teeth in the gorgeous antique style bathroom, Aoife tried to push down her fear over the man who had given her life. She decided she’d do her best to live in the now and soak up every second of her experience with Bram in this amazing castle. If she didn’t, what was the point of being free?

Chapter 16

SMUGGLERS REST PUBLIC HOUSE-DUBLIN

The glass shattered, black liquid ran down the wall as Jimmy Doyle spun on the man who was nervously fidgeting on the other side of his desk. The sight of the pint of Guinness dripping down the wall, made him wish it was this little pissant’s blood and brain instead.

“Tell me again.”

The man was in his early twenties, a scrotum he’d dragged from the streets, given a home and purpose too, and here he was disappointing him again.

“Donny the snatch reported back that your men never came down off the mountains. He saw them go up and when they never radioed in like they were supposed to, he went looking but they’d vanished.”

“What about the landlord at the pub? Have Donny speak to him and tell him not to be as kind as I was last time.” That fucking old man had put up a good fight, even managing to land a punch or two before his men had held him down and beaten him, and still, the old bastard had insisted on lying about where Aoife was.

“We thought of that, Jimmy, but we can’t get near. The place is always full, the locals seem to have closed ranks.”

Jimmy stood, his hand going to his gun, and pulling it from his jacket. He loved how the little shit paled at the sight. Let him be scared, they should all fucking fear him. Moving around his desk, and standing in front of Mickie the quick, he could feel terror radiating from him, taste it even and it fuelled his high better than any drug, better than any whore on her knees.

This was true power, and he lived for it, was good at it. His men didn’t work for him because he was a good boss, they worked for him because he made them rich. They were loyal because they knew if they fucked up, he’d not only kill them, but he’d kill everyone they loved too.

Placing the barrel of the gun against Mickie’s head, he released the safety, relishing the way the man shook, not knowing if he’d walk out of there alive or not. “Don’t give me fucking excuses. I want my fucking daughter back where she belongs and if I don’t get it, then I’ll kill every fucking person I meet until I find her.”

“Yes, Jimmy.”

“Now fuck off before I splatter that wall with your pathetic little brain.”

Jimmy opened the office door, letting Mickie scuttle out like the cockroach he was and surveyed the bar area. Spotting Conlan O’Neill, he lifted his chin and the man ambled over.

“Boss?”

“Close the door.”

Jimmy took his seat behind his desk, as his right-hand man waited for his instructions. Conlan had been with him since the start. He knew Jimmy better than anyone, his secrets, his weaknesses, and he knew Conlan’s. “My men are dead.”

“I told you, she has help this time.”

Jimmy bristled at his friend’s tone, his jaw flexing as he tried to keep his temper from erupting. “I want to know who the fuck they are so I can kill every fucking one of them. I want their faces known to every man we have on our payroll. I want to know what these fuckers had for breakfast and want them all to fucking die.”

Conlan nodded.

“Where are we with Popov?”

“He’s getting impatient. He’s threatening to pull the deal if we don’t produce Aoife within the next week.”