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Nodding, he pulls out of the parking lot, eyes sweeping over the unmarked dark sedan. He totally knows they’re cops, but he ignores them, heading for Southie while I toy with the zipper of my purse.
During the trip to my apartment, the car is silent, making the intense sexual tension ramp up to an eleven. Finally, we park at the curb in the loading zone in front of my building. He leans closer to me as he peers through my window at the front door, six yards away.
I open my mouth to thank him for the lift when he slides out of the SUV, rounding the hood and opening my door. My cheeks heat up. How gentlemanly. His fingers close around my elbow as he helps me climb down. Thankfully, I don’t make any wicked embarrassing noises this time, though my cheeks flame.
I miss the feeling of his hand on my elbow immediately as he releases it, walking me right to the door of my building. As we mount the small brick stoop, he hesitates.
“Have a good night, lass. I’ll see ye tomorrow.”
Wait? That’s all? Disappointment courses through me as he nods, turning back to his vehicle.
“Thanks for the lift. Hey!” I call after him, my hand resting on the door handle. He turns back to me with surprise in his eyes. “What’s your name?”
“Niall,” he replies, his eyes burning into mine. “Niall Byrne.”
It suits him. “Thanks, Niall.”
But he doesn’t hear my words, already moving back to his SUV. I watch him climb in, but he doesn’t drive off. The window where I had been sitting lowers.
“Inside, lass,” he calls through the window. Wow. Very much a gentleman. Grinning, I raise a hand to wave to him. He doesn’t respond, staring at me through the window until I wrench the door open, stepping inside.
The door closes behind me, and through the glass top half, I watch his window raise, and the SUV pull away from the curb, the taillights visible as the dark vehicle melts into the night.
What a night. Dashing up the stairs, I let myself into my crappy apartment, dropping my bag on the small, square kitchen table. Opening the creaky fridge, I grab a soda, flipping off the lights as I move down the narrow hallway and drop onto the springless sofa, popping the top off the bottle.
I don’t bother to turn on the TV. I curl my feet below me, grabbing a throw pillow and hugging it to my chest as I sip the icy, fizzy drink.
My eyes flutter closed, my head tipping and resting on the back of the sofa. A small smile flutters across my lips. Niall Byrne. My savior.
Chapter Three
MELLIE
The bus pulls up at the stop a few yards from Oracle. I nod to the driver, climbing off, my hands shoved into my coat pockets. A few people are moving around on the street, and those two cops are still here. Maybe new ones, maybe the same ones as yesterday.
Our eyes meet, and they cast me a dismissive glance, resuming their staring at the front door. I wonder if everyone knows that they are staking the place out. Probably. I don’t see the Irish Mafia missing such an obvious cop car. I swear Niall looked right at them last night when he drove me home.
The coat check is empty again. She must only appear closer to opening time. I move through to the main bar, where Arthur is unloading a box of vodka. I raise my hand to wave to him, and he beams at me.
“Hey,” he grins at me. “I see we didn’t scare you off then?”
I grin back at him, shrugging and rolling my eyes. I’m not remotely scared off.
“It takes a lot more than a bunch of topless strippers to scare me off.”
Arthur eyes me carefully, sighing and leaning across the bar conspiratorially. My eyebrows slowly raising, I lean in as well, intrigued.
“Honestly, I wasn’t sure if you would be back.”
I blink in surprise. I waved to him on my way out last night when Niall walked me out. I don’t think I looked too exhausted.
“What on earth gave you that idea? It takes more than some mobsters and a stakeout vehicle to put me off the idea of making rent.”
I know I served several mobsters yesterday. With his Irish accent and the way some people gave him a wide berth at the VIP bar last night, Niall is definitely an Irish mobster. I suppose I should be warier, but he was sexy and nice and gave me a lift home. That doesn’t exactly scream “dangerous.”
Arthur shakes his head, his eyes darting around the otherwise empty room, lowering his voice further. I have to practically lie across the bar to hear him.
“No,” he hisses. “It’s not that. I just thought maybe he would have scared you off. I mean, you seem like a nice girl, and he’s, well,Niall Byrne.”
