Page 14 of Fighting for Irish
“A thing? What thing?”
“I don’t know, like some sort of reaction. Like someone just insulted you or something.”
Great, she thought. So much for using an alias to protect her identity. Good thing she didn’t have any dreams of becoming a famous actress. Apparently she sucked at being someone else.
“If it makes you feel any better,” he offered, “I don’t think anyone believes you’re anyone other than who you claim to be.”
Right. Except him.
Oh, and Sicoli’s thugs, who were now here to kill her.
She shook her head. “No offense, but being a really observant Good Samaritan doesn’t automatically earn you my trust.” Biting her lip, she looked down at her bandaged hand and felt like she’d slapped him in the face after he so diligently tended to her. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. You’re right, it doesn’t.”
Kat jerked her head up in surprise, but he didn’t notice because he’d already turned to put the first-aid kit away.
Opening the coat closet, Irish rummaged around in a box until he emerged with one of the uniform T-shirts the coolers wore. “All right, I’m gonna go tell Xander we’re leaving,” he said, pulling the shirt on. “I saw Johnny by the pool tables. I’ll ask him to cover my shift for the rest of the night and then we can sneak out the back.”
Sneak out the back…Shit! Being so close to him shirtless had short-circuited her brain to the point she’d forgotten she was supposed to be sneaking out the back of her apartment tonight to escape Sicoli’s clutches. She didn’t have time for the hospital; she had to stick to her plan. Or a slightly modified version where she left early without Irish.
Kat nodded in feigned acquiescence and glanced from under her lashes at the locker holding her purse.
“Don’t even think about it, kitten.” Her gaze snapped up. “I know what you’re thinking, but I’m not letting you get outta this. If you get an infection, go septic, and die because of my shitty doctoring skills, the guilt will kill me. And you don’t wanna be responsible for my death now, do you?”
His half smile said he was joking, but his eyes were dead serious. Though he had no reason, it was obvious he felt responsible for her and didn’t trust her not to leave. Lack of trust from the opposite sex was something she was very accustomed to. She tried to ignore the disappointment that he was no different than any other man after all.
Even if his assumption was accurate.
She needed to calculate her options. If she went with him, her plan would be delayed by a few hours and would probably be more difficult, but not necessarily impossible. If she didn’t go with him, then she’d have more time to get as far away as possible before taking shelter at dawn. But, if her hand did get infected, she’d have to go to a hospital for treatment, in which case she might as well leave a trail of breadcrumbs for Sicoli to find her.
Kat hopped off the desk and crossed to where the employee lockers stood to the side of the door. She grabbed her knitted hobo purse and slung the long strap over her opposite shoulder, then tossed him her keys. Catching them in one hand, Irish studied her for a few seconds.
“What?” she asked a little testily. “Now I can’t go anywhere until you get back.”
Closing the few feet between them, he placed the keys against her un-bandaged palm and closed her fingers over them. “I’ll be back in five.”
He trusted her? Kat couldn’t remember anyone other than Nessie ever trusting her before. Staring at the keys in her hand, she felt something tighten in her chest.
“Hey, Irish?”
“Yeah?”
“If you want…” Before she could change her mind, she looked into his deep blue eyes, clutched her hope that this man could be trusted with a death grip, and bit the bullet. “You can call me Kat.”
He canted his head slightly. “As in the adult version of kitten?”
That made her smile. A little. “As in a shortened version of Katherine. With a K.”
Bringing one hand up, he stroked his thumb along her jawline for the briefest of moments. “I’ll be back in five…Kat.” Then he turned and walked out of the office, closing the door behind him.
