Page 88 of Lawless Rivals

“I didn’t send for Riley,” she points out. “That wasn’t⁠—”

“Your da sent men here to take you.” I hold her gaze. “And you were ready to leave.”

Her jaw tightens, and she doesn’t deny it.

“Of course I was going to go with them,” she grits. “Do you think I’m a pushover…that I’d sit and wait for you to release me?”

That’s the thing about Keira Harrington. She won’t lie when the truth is standing right in front of her. It’s one of maybe three things about her I haven’t had to work out.

“It’s time for me to go.” She folds her arms. “By sunrise, this whole situation will be completely different.”

“Oh, yeah?” I cock my head. “You think you’re the one callin’ the shots?”

“Saint…”

“You don’t leave until your father signs that land over to me.”

A shadow moves across her face.

“He knows I’m here,” she says. “Which means Crowley will⁠—”

“Do you think this ends because I’m scared of the Gardai or your da?”

She exhales a long sigh. “I should be at home. Not stuck out here.”

I hold her gaze, watch the way her focus slips for half a second before she drags it back.

“This has nothing to do with me,” she goes on, voice tightening. “Fionn will inherit my da’s business, not me. I deserve better than to be part of whatever game you and my father are playing.”

“From where I’m standing, you’re the part that matters.”

Beside us, a Land Rover rolls into the yard. I already know who it belongs to.

Ma takes her time climbing out, lighter in hand, the bright flame a flickering point of orange in the dark. She draws on the cigarette, exhales a smoky breath, and glares right at me.

“Ciarán.”

She doesn’t close the door behind her and walks our way.

“This isn’t handling the Harringtons.” She takes another pull. “She was never meant to be this close to us. Get the girl off our land. Tonight.”

Her gaze cuts to Keira.

In the half-second it takes to rake her distaste up and down, Ma flicks ash and keeps her expression in check. I’ve known this woman my whole life, and the look she dishes out is full of fire and festering hatred.

“There were Harrington men shooting up the yard, son.”

“And now they’re gone,” I tell her. “How about you head back inside and pour yourself a Scotch? It’s late and the boys will be home soon.”

She takes one more pull of the cigarette and turns back to the car.

“Get her off our land, Ciarán,” she says over her shoulder. “Harringtons aren’t welcome here. Ever.”

I slide a hand into my pocket, dig out my smokes, and light one. “Back off, Ma. She won’t be anywhere near the yard from now on. She won’t be seen.”

Keira straightens, shoulders pulling tight, jaw locked tight.

“Fine,” Ma says, heading for her open door. “If she’s found rotting in the heath, it wouldn’t be a loss.”