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Beep. Beep. Beep.
Shit.
Frantically, I struggled to get my purse open as my cell phone let out a shrill ring from within, signaling what was likely going to be my death.Fuck. Why hadn’t I put it on silent?
Because I hadn’t wanted to miss a call from a hotel for an opening.
“Who’s down there?” I recognized the voice of the one called Seamus. Maybe if I just… “We know you’re hiding in the alcove. Show yourself. Don’t make us come after you. It won’t be pleasant.”
Shit. Shit. Shit.
“Please…” My voice wobbled as I stepped out of the alcove and into the alley. “Don’t shoot me.”
“Fuck me,” Seamus sighed under his breath. His gun was aimed at my chest. “It’s a fucking girl.”
“Not just a girl,” Kier growled. The deep, rough tone of his voice was easily distinguishable from his twin. He eyed me coldly, like he knew me. “She’s that fucking reporter Da warned us about last week. The one sniffing around the bombing at the stables.”
Damn, he recognized me.
Fuck my life.
Wait. They knew about the bombing at the Ward farm?
Fuck, were they part of the trafficking ring? Was I going to end up trafficked?
Oh, hell no. I’d rather he shot me.
“Look, I’m not investigating anything,” I told them, trying and failing to keep the slur from my voice. No such luck. I wasn’t quite drunk as a skunk, but I was tipsy-wipsy…or something. “My car broke down in the parking lot back there, and I was just looking for somewhere to drink. I promise.”
Kier snorted derisively. “Like we can fucking believe anything you say, lass.”
The wordlassdid something funny to my lady parts.
Future Bailey would ponder that later…when she was sober.
If there was a future Bailey.
“Kiernan.” Seamus looked over at his brother, his cold expression wavering slightly. “We can’t just…”
“You know what we have to do, Seamus.” Kiernan snatched the blood-coated knife from his brother’s hand before handing him the gun. The barrel was pointed at me the whole time.
Time to go.
Survival instincts were a thing, and mine kicked in the moment the man called Kiernan stepped toward me with the knife his brother had used to kill Jimmy. I was not about to be gutted like a fucking pig in an alley.
I didn’t think about the consequences of running, because who the fuck thinks of those right before they were about to be murdered by two overly handsome Irish men?
So not the time brain.
It was a calculated risk, but I doubted they would fire the gun in the alley. It could easily ricochet or set off one of the shot detectors that riddled the neighborhood. I lunged forward, kneeing Seamus in the balls and knocking the gun from his hand before slamming my elbow into his brother’s face.
God, that was almost a crime considering how fucking perfect it was with his deep green eyes and panty-melting—
Again, not the time, brain, you fucking hussy.
“Dammit.”
One of them cursed, but in my haste to get away, I wasn’t sure which. Nor did I care. I bolted toward my car. Hindsight was a bitch since, as I was running, I remembered that it was broken down. My footsteps wobbled, legs shaky thanks to my overly enthusiastic imbibing of old Mr. Jameson, but fuck, I could at least try to lose them among the mass of cars and buildings until I found somewhere safe to hide.
