Page 4 of Reckless Seduction
“Who’s down there?” I recognize 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 wobbles as I step out of the alcove and into the alley. “Don’t shoot me.”
“Fuck me,” Seamus sighs under his breath. His knife is aimed at my chest. “It’s a fucking girl.”
“Not just a girl,” Kier growls. The deep, rough tone of his voice is easily distinguishable from his twin. He eyes me coldly, like he knows me. “She’s that fucking reporter Da warned us about last week. The one sniffing around the bombing at the stables.”
Damn, he does recognize me.
Fuck my life.
Wait. They know about the bombing at the Ward farm?
Fuck, are they part of the trafficking ring? Am I going to end up trafficked?
Oh, hell no. He can shoot me instead.
“Look, I’m not investigating anything,” I tell them, trying and failing to keep the slur from my voice. No such luck. I’m notquite drunk as a skunk, but I am tipsy-wipsy… or something. “My car broke down in the parking lot back there, and I am just looking for somewhere to drink. I promise.”
Kier snorts derisively. “Like we can fucking believe anything you say, lass.”
The wordlassdoes something funny to my lady parts.
Future Bailey will ponder that later… when she is sober.
If there is a future Bailey.
“Kiernan.” Seamus looks over at his brother, his cold expression wavering slightly. “We can’t just…”
“You know what we have to do, Seamus.” Kiernan snatches the blood-coated knife from his brother’s hand before handing him the gun he has pointed at me.
Time to go.
Survival instincts are a thing, and mine kick in the moment the man called Kiernan steps toward me with the knife his brother used to kill Jimmy. I am not about to be gutted like a fucking pig in an alley.
I don’t think about the consequences of running, because who the fuck thinks of those right before they are about to be murdered by two overly handsome Irish men?
So not the time, brain.
It is a calculated risk, but I doubt they will fire the gun in the alley. It could easily ricochet or set off one of the shot detectors that riddle the neighborhood. I lunge forward, kneeing Seamus in the balls and knocking the gun from his hand before slamming my elbow into his brother’s face.
God, that is almost a crime considering how fucking perfect it is with his deep green eyes and panty-melting?—
Again, not the time, brain, you fucking hussy.
“Dammit”
One of them curses, but in my haste to get away, I’m not sure which. Nor do I care. I bolt toward my car. Hindsight is a bitchsince, as I am running, I remember that it is broken down. My footsteps wobble, legs shaking thanks to my overly enthusiastic imbibing of old Mr. Jameson, but fuck, I can at least try to lose them among the mass of cars and buildings until I find somewhere to hide.
This is the Irish Village, however, and if I’m not mistaken, these two men are part of the family that runs it. Which means there isn’t really anywhere safe for me to hide. No one will dare go against them, and I’ll be a sitting duck.
Then I’ll become a dead duck.
Peking style.
“Fuck,” I scream. My ankle rolls in the heels I am wearing, and I hit the wet pavement hard. Shouldn’t have drunk all that whiskey. Panic surges through me as hands grab at my hair, pulling me up from the ground.
