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“Only because you did it first,” she huffs, crossing her arms.
My eyes dart down as her breasts are pushed up. She drops her arms almost immediately, but it’s too late. If only she didn’t look so sinfully delicious in that tank top. Cara fucked with my head, and I knew it would only be a matter of time before she truly got under my skin. Even now, I want to give in to her and let her have what she wants. Especially when she’s looking at me like that.
“Fine,” I growl. “But when something happens because your men fail, don’t come crying to me.” I head back towards the front door, not caring if she follows me or not. But I know she will. It’s Cara Ryan. She can’t let shit go.
I hear her soft feet behind me on the hardwood, smiling to myself. A woman like Cara Ryan always has to have the last word. I’m halfway down the steps by the time she reaches the door.
“I won’t!” she yells after me. I ignore her, knowing that’ll piss her off more than anything else I’ve done today. The door slams shut a moment later, but I can hear her muffled scream of irritation through the wood. Grinning, I step onto the driveway.
Niccolo and Tony are waiting on the gravel. Tony shoots me a questioning look to see if he should stay or not, but I shake my head. If Cara thinks her own men are good enough, then I guess we’ll see. I’d at least tried to make an effort. But now? Now I’m not going to waste any more of my time over it. I’d told her not to come to me later when something happens—because I’m assuming it will—but another small, sick part of me sort of hopes she will come running. Because then she’d have to eat her own damn words and prove I was right.
We get into the car, driving right back out that stupid iron gate. I don’t look back. We’re bound to each other now, whether Cara can accept that or not. Eventually, she’ll realize it’s hopeless and finally fucking listen. I just hope that day comes sooner rather than later.
24
CARA
Killian’s little visit has me fuming. He’d invaded my safe space, accusing me of somehow knowing whatever it is he thinks I know about the Russians and practically assaulted me in my own home. Every time I think about it, I become furious all over again. At first, I try to brush it off. I don’t want to give him any more energy than I already have. But the more I try to forget about him, the more I keep thinking about it. Actually, it’s all I can think about.
The memory of him pinning me against the wall, locking my wrists above my head…the feeling of his body against mine. No matter how much I try to forget, I can’t get away from it. But it isn’t just his actions that have me confused. I have no idea why the Russians would specifically mention me. The way Killian had said it sounded almost as if he believed I was somehow working against him—trying to trick him.
If the Russians have taken an interest in me, then I need to be more prepared. Before, the city had been relatively safe enough for me to go out on my own. There hadn’t been any big feuds between the Irish and other criminal families in a while, which meant I’d been able to safely go wherever I needed to. But now…
The longer I tried to brush off Killian’s comment, the more paranoid I became. Finally, I call Owen, my father’s underboss. He’s been with my father since the beginning, as close to family as he could get. Owen Monaghan is a short, balding man with a button nose and rosy cheeks. He doesn’t look intimidating in the slightest, but I’ve heard the rumors. He’s more deadly and ruthless than he looks, but he’s never been that way towards me. To him, I’m just the princess of his boss. He’d always sneak me some chocolate whenever he came to see my father.
He answers on the first ring. “Ay, lass. How ya gettin’ on?”
“I need you to send over some of your best guys.” I tuck my cell between my shoulder and cheek as I yank a shirt down from my closet.
“What fer?” Owen’s faded Irish accent makes me smile.
“I want a personal bodyguard.” There’s a tense silence on the other line for a few seconds.
“Is this about the Russians? Because we can—”
“It’s not just about that,” I say quickly. If he reports back to my father that I’m starting to get worried, I won’t just have one bodyguard—I’d have a whole horde. And I really don’t want that. How would I explain that to my friends? “I’d just like to have one for general safety. Someone who can easily blend into a crowd.”
“You want a tail?”
“Yes. Exactly.”
Owen sighs. “I’m a bit up to ninety at the moment, but I can send over a few files for you to look through. You can pick which one would best suit you. Just don’t faff about with it.”
“Thank you,” I tell him honestly. “But there’s no need to send over the files. I need one for tonight, and I trust your judgment. Just send one over in about half an hour. Tell him to dress for a club.”
“Sounds grand.”
“And Owen?” I pause, hesitating. “Can you just…not tell my father?”
Owen chuckles. “Since you don’t seem to be up to trouble, I don’t think this warrants a report to yer father, lass.”
Hanging up, I toss my phone onto the bed before turning back to my closet. I’m supposed to be meeting up with Sadie and Kimmy for a night out. I hang the shirt I’d snatched from the hanger just minutes before back up, taking down another blouse. This one was brilliant red with long bishop sleeves that taper around the wrists. Two ribbons of silk hang from the high neck, just long enough to be tied into a loose bow. I toss that on the bed along with a pair of black leggings and matching red heels.
Killian invading what I consider my safe space requires a drink. Or two. His coming over irked me more than I’d like to admit. It made me uncomfortable to have him here, someplace I considered a haven away from the outside issues. And Killian had broken that bubble.
Pulling on the blouse and leggings, I hurry into the bathroom to brush my hair and add a bit of makeup. I let my hair fall loose around my shoulders, simple but elegant. Adding a bit of dark brown eyeshadow and wings so sharp they could kill a man, I check my reflection one last time in the mirror. I can still see the burning fury in my eyes, my cheeks tinted pink from just thinking about Killian’s audacity to assume his men would be better suited to guarding me than my own people. He’s arrogant, that’s for sure.
By the time I slip on the heels, there’s a knock at our front door. I let the butler get it as I head downstairs, tucking away a knife as small as a nail file into my black clutch. The bodyguard Owen had chosen stands beside the door, waiting. Owen did a good job. The guy is around my age, if not a year or two older, so he’d blend in well where ever I’d go. He’s of average height, and his face is unremarkable. He’s wearing gray trousers matched with black loafers. He’s left the top two buttons of his shirt undone, tucking in the ends of the black material. Overall, he’s perfect for tonight.
