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She’s pretty, in a girl next door kind of way. There is nothing special or remarkable about her looks at all. Except for her eyes. Her huge, amber eyes lock on mine, and I find I can’t look away or even fucking blink.
There is something so fucking familiar about her, even though, apart from her eyes, she has a face you couldn’t pick out of a crowd.
Despite the familiar feeling, I can’t place her. I am about to turn away, dismissing the sight of her, when Connor grins, leaning in to say something to her, his lips bumping her ear.
I have no idea why, but I’m suddenly consumed with the desire to stride across the room, rip Connor off her and slam him into a wall. Fitzy does it for me. Well. He doesn’t slam his cousin into a wall, but he does pry him off the girl and shove him away.
“Perry says no one touches her, and that includes you. You want to get banned from here for cozying up to Perry’s woman?”
Again, it’s irrational, but I don’t like the idea of a sweet little thing like her with a man like Perry. I’ve seen him on more than one occasion at the end of the night, his cock down some random woman’s throat. This girl is too innocent for him.
Connor screws his face up to argue, but the girl pipes up, cutting off whatever he is going to say. She has a low, melodic voice. It matches her eyes in that it’s just as captivating.
“I’m not Perry’s woman,” she tells Fitzy, who blinks at her in surprise.
“You’re not?” He scratches his head, looking confused. Why the fuck does he thinks she’s Perry’s woman? That’s a weird fucking assumption to make. The girl looks like she would faint if someone said boo to her.
“No.” She shrugs. “Can I have my bag back?”
Connor grins, handing the duffel bag he is holding to her. She takes it, hugging it to her chest, but doesn’t try to leave. Not that she would be able to… Fitzy’s like a dog with a bone. He hates puzzles he can’t solve, and this girl is a fucking puzzle.
“If you’re not his woman, why did Perry stick you with us and tell me to look out for you?” Fitzy frowns. My eyebrows shoot up. Connor smirks at me, whatever that means, but I’m distracted.
Perry told Seamus to look out for her. What’s that all about? What’s a girl like her doing in this warehouse anyway? Someone who looks as sweet and innocent as her shouldn’t be caught dead within a mile of this place.
She blushes a deep red, poking her finger at me. “Because I’m here to talk to him.”
Four sets of curious eyes turn to me. Don’t look at me. I have no idea who the fuck she is. There is a scratching at the back of my mind – about her looking so familiar – but still, she’s nothing to me.
Connor cackles. “My new good luck charm is a fight groupie? Brilliant news. You’ll be around a lot then?”
The lass flushes an even darker red. “I’m not a fight groupie.”
The grin drops off Connor’s face at her snappy tone. Lucky likes to joke around, but you can only push a Fitzpatrick so far in this city.
The girl isn’t finished. She is still poking her finger in my direction. “I just need to talk to Paddy Flynn.He’sPaddy Flynn, right?”
“And so he is,” Fitzy agrees easily. Anyone in the know is aware that when Fitzy starts speaking easily, you’re either family or about to be in a world of pain. I shift, frowning. I don’t like the idea of the lass being in a world of hurt. She’s just a little lass. “And what’s your business with him?”
“That’s between him and me,” she mumbles. Fitzy’s eyebrows aren’t the only ones to shoot up. I’m fucking intrigued too. Maybe she’s going to tell me why she looks so familiar.
“If you want to speak to one of my lads, you can do it in front of me,” the stubborn asshole tells her.
“Is that an Irish thing?” she asks. “Or a mafia thing?”
Connor chuckles, Fitzy glares, and Niall and Ronan tense. The Reaper’s fingers flex.
“What do you need to talk to Paddy about?” Fitzy's tone is no longer easy, having moved to smooth danger, and the lass flinches. At least she has some self-preservation. Though not enough to keep her the fuck away from this place and us.
“It’s personal,” she mumbles, casting her eyes down, shrinking into herself, hugging the duffel bag tightly to her chest.
“Jaysus feck, Fitzy,” Ronan smirks from behind her, the first to relax. “Just let the lass be to ask if she can suck his dick in private.”
“What?” she splutters, looking mortified. “That’s not… no!”
Her tone is jerky, and I take pity on her. She’s clearly not here to try to fuck me. I do want to knowwhyshe’s here and who she is. I’m tired, I hurt, and I hate my brain itching.
“Just fuck off out of here, the lot of you. You too, Fitzy.”
