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A guy. A random guy. It never failed.
Her shoulders dropped as she exhaled. “No, thank you.”
The guy, whoever he was, it didn’t matter, sidled up close. Too close for a woman who wanted to be alone.
“Back up there, buddy.”
Daly. He must’ve followed her because there he was, right behind her.
“Just talking to the lady.”
“Yeah, you don’t want to do that.” Daly’s arm came down on the bar between her and the guy she hadn’t even looked at. “Back up.”
“Who are you?” the guy asked. “She your girlfriend?”
Daly’s head turned her way to murmur. “You don’t want to do this, Sersha.” His gaze was serious. “They call him Ire for a reason.”
“Hey, dude…” the guy said.
The bartender came over with her drink. “Daly, there a problem?”
Daly’s eyes stayed on hers. “No problem, Biggs, right, Sersha? Tell Biggs there’s no problem.”
Drawing in a breath, she picked up her drink. “No. No problem.”
Her leash was short.
As she slipped off the stool, Daly put a protective arm around her waist, guiding her through the tables, toward the exit again. But there was no reprieve. The security guys stepped out of the way, and they went up the stairs.
“Playing with him isn’t like playing with other guys,” Daly hissed.
“I wasn’t playing with anyone,” she said. “Can’t a girl just want a drink?”
“There’s a fully stocked bar upstairs,” he said, stopping at the top, holding the doorhandle. “You want a bartender up there? Just say the word.” Their eyes met again. “But you cannot be around other guys like that. You don’t screw around on Ire McDade.”
“Because Ire has a rep to protect?”
“Not for his sake.”
“Mine?”
“Theirs,” he said and edged in closer. “Shit, Sersha, you understand what he’s capable of, right? He shot Dingo for walking in on you two together. What do you think a guy they call ‘Ire’ will do to any man who touches you? Who flirts with you?”
Concern brought her brows closer. “Are you telling me to be afraid of him?”
“I’m telling you to be afraidforthem. You want to fuck around with other guys? Their injuries, their deaths, will be on you.”
She blinked in surprise. “Their deaths? You’re exaggerating… aren’t you?”
He snickered in contradiction. Someone pulled the door from his hand, opening it from the other side.
Niall stood there before them. “Just her. We’re going out,” he said to Daly, who turned to descend again. “Miss McLeod.”
The acknowledgement came with Niall putting a hand on her lower back to push her inside. He closed the door behind her.
Ire was at the desk, on the phone, fixated on something in the corner. As she went a few steps, the long nook opposite his position opened up. The two blondes were on the chesterfield again. Sans clothes.
“You’re welcome to bring your wife…” Ire said into the phone, beckoning her with two straight fingers and pointing at the chair at the end of his desk. He smiled as his attention drifted, but it wasn’t for her. “Make you no promises… I’ve heard…” She went to sit, putting the glass and her purse on the end of the desk next to her. “Not sure I do. Your Doherty puts on a show…” His light tone wasn’t typical. Was it the blondes? He sure seemed to be watching them enjoy each other. “I was there that night… Think every guy did…”
