Page 108 of Lawless Rivals

Saint doesn’t look away from me.

“What if it’s not?” His answer rumbles through me.

“My father wouldn’t expect me to know about that place, and he certainly wouldn’t think I’d tell you.”

There’s a flicker of something behind his eyes. I can’t tell what he’s thinking, but the intensity of his gaze gives me goosebumps.

“We hit it tonight,” he says. “Every second counts.”

As chair legs scrape, Saint releases me and stands, making sure I’m steady on my feet before he looks at everyone else.

“If she’s not there, we regroup immediately,” he continues.

Rafe stands and tugs a baseball cap into his head.

“I’ll check it out with Dane,” he says. “If it’s an ambush, and we get busted up, kill every fucking Harrington in Black Heath.”

Rafe makes a gun shape wart his fingers and points it right at me.

My lungs cramp.

What if I’m wrong?

Chapter 28

Keira

“That’s not your call,” Saint bites out. “We have the advantage. Don’t fuck it up. If Sera’s not there, go through the place and get as much dirt on Harrington as ya can.”

I swallow hard and press a hand to my stomach. I don’t know if I’ve just helped them find her or sent them straight into something that could destroy my family.

The door opens ahead of us, and cold air rushes in. Men file out, and Saint holds his hand to curve on my back, urging me forward.

Outside, the driveway is alive with headlights.

Rafe doesn’t wait for anyone to tell him to move, climbing into the Ford as Dane circles the hood and Shay pulls the back passenger door open, all of it happening as Saint leaves my side.

He jogs to the driver’s side window, bends, and speaks to his brothers under the growl of engines.

Eventually he slaps the hood and backs away as the Ford takes off.

Smoke drifts into my line of sight, thin at first, then thicker, and when I turn my head, Máirín is beside me, her shoulder angled toward the yard.

“Harringtons don’t belong under my roof.” She flicks ash so it dances in the light breeze.

I keep my eyes on Saint as he talks to a guy on a motorbike.

“Sitting on my son’s knee was a mistake,” she says. “It won’t happen again. You’re not gonna poison him under my nose. And no, that’s not a promise: it’s a threat.”

More ash flutters from the end of her cigarette and disappears over the edge of the step.

“If my boys walk headfirst into a trap tonight, I’ll shoot ya myself.”

I draw a breath through my nose and hold it for a second before letting it out again, keeping my posture steady, my expression blank.

“It must be exhausting,” I say, “being so bitter.”

“What’s exhausting is seeing ya around here.”