Page 24
CHAPTER 24
“ Y ou’ve been quiet since your conversation with Anu,” Fi said later that night. “Do you want to discuss it?”
“No.” He sipped his pint of plain and surveyed the packed pub. Lucky O’Malley’s was bursting at the seems, and he was positive they were over the legal limit allowed in an establishment.
“Patrick.”
Fi’s low-voiced censure brought his head around, and he met her concerned expression with a grimace.
“There’s naught to discuss, love. I’ve a choice to make, and it’s not one I’m chuffed to be making.”
Reaching across the table, she clasped his hand between both of hers. “And does that choice have something to do with me? Because you haven’t been able to look me in the eye since speaking with Anu.”
“Can we leave off arguing tonight? Please? ” He didn’t want their last two nights together to be filled with turmoil. Rather they have a few drinks, fall into bed—if only to cuddle—and part with sorrow, if it came to that, than go round about a decision he wasn’t prepared to make.
Releasing him, she sat back. Disappointment and hurt were stamped on her face, and Patrick felt like a right proper bastard for causing her pain. Making an impulsive decision, he stood and downed his drink. Then, he moved to her side of the table and leaned in to kiss her.
“I love you, Fionola Bohannon, and it’s my fondest wish you remember it always. But in case you forget, I’ll tell you true that you’ll have the number-one place in my heart for the remainder of my days and well past when I’ve entered the Otherworld.”
“Why does this sound like goodbye?”
His heart caught in his throat, and he called on every bit of acting talent he possessed to make it appear otherwise. Gifting her with a roguish grin, he drew her to her feet and grabbed her drink.
“Come. I’ve something I’ve been meaning to do.”
When they reached what served as a stage, he shooed away those in front and gestured for Fi to sit down at the abandoned table. Nerves ate at him, and he called himself ten kinds of fool for putting himself on display. He drank down the last of her pint in a single guzzle, wiped away the foam with the back of his wrist, then waved at Ruairí, indicating he should bring another.
All eyes were on him as he climbed the steps to the microphone, and Cian stopped strumming to welcome him with a grin. “You’re gracing us with a song, Da?”
“I’m gracing Fionola with one, aye.”
He heard her gasp over the crowd noise, but he didn’t turn until he accepted the guitar from Cian. Positioning himself on the stool, he strummed as he adjusted the strings, and when he was satisfied, he met her glowing eyes across the distance.
“’Tis a song I wrote about true love,” he said into the mic while he began to play.
Fi raised a hand to cover her smiling mouth and shook her head.
He nodded. “Sure, and it makes me sound like an eejit to say it, but I’ve loved ya from first sight, Fionola Bohannon.”
In this world so wide I wandered, lost but free,
Searching for signs, a clue of what’s meant to be.
Every soul I met, felt like a passing phase,
'Til you opened that door and your face my eyes gazed.
And in your eyes, I saw the spark of fate,
A light that guides me through my darkest days.
We were written in the stars, no need to explain,
In this love, we found our place.
You’re my true north, my heart’s compass in the storm,
Every piece of me aligns when you’re in my arms.
We’re fated, meant to be, forever intertwined,
In this dance of destiny, you’re my heart’s design.
Through the stormy nights and the endless tries,
You’re the melody that makes my spirit rise.
Every beat of time has led me to you,
In this endless dream, we’re painting skies so blue.
And in your touch, I feel echoes of the past,
A love we built, meant forever to last.
You’re my forever, my destiny so true,
In this love, I’ve found my way to you.
You’re my true north, my heart’s compass in the storm,
Every piece of me aligns when you’re in my arms.
We’re fated, meant to be, forever intertwined,
In this dance of destiny, you’re my heart’s design.
And in this tapestry of life, we’re a thread so fine,
Weaving dreams and love through the fabric of time.
The last note faded, and the pub remained silent for the count of five—just long enough for him to set aside Cian’s guitar and stand—before the roar of approval and deafening applause began, led by Fi. She jumped to her feet and ran up the steps to meet him halfway, leaping into his waiting arms. Drawing his mouth down to hers, she kissed him like a hero coming home from war, and nothing had tasted so sweet as her love pouring into him.
How was he ever supposed to give her up? Give this up? He’d go mad in no time. Tears burned the backs of his lids, and he kept his eyes closed as he held onto her like a lifeline.
“Let’s go,” she said, dragging him toward the exit. “I want to spend the rest of the night alone with you.” The twinkle in her eyes was naughty to the extreme, and Patrick had never seen a more welcoming sight. “Maybe I can inspire another song. A bawdy one, next time.”
“Sure, and I’ve written those for you, too.”
Her laughter was a thing of beauty, lighting her face and making everyone who’d heard it smile, despite not having been in on the joke.
They’d made it to the alley sandwiched between the Black Cat Inn and Lucky O’Malley’s when a hulking figure stepped into their path. Although surprised, Patrick’s reaction was instinctual, and he tucked Fi behind him.
“Are you lost, man?” he asked.
“No.”
The stranger’s vibe was menacing, and there was little doubt he was seeking trouble.
“Fi, go back into Lucky’s,” Patrick ordered.
“No, Pat?—”
A scream choked off her refusal, and he spun to help her.
Too late.
Another man had her by the hair with a knife to her throat.
“Take it easy, man,” Patrick said with a calmness he didn’t feel. “Whatever you want, I’ll give it to ya, but you’ll be letting her go first.”
“She’s what we want.” The second assailants’ eyes were small and cruel, as if he thrived on causing his victims’ pain.
Patrick was familiar with his sort. Hadn’t he dealt with Loman O’Connor and the bastard’s sadistic brothers?
“If you’re thinking to harm her, you won’t survive the night,” he warned, infusing steel in his tone.
“You’re owed for the trouble you caused, and she’ll serve right enough,” the brute behind him said.
“And I intend to pay, but she’s innocent, like whoever it was I wronged.”
Fi’s eyes flared wide, and it was the only warning he received about the oncoming attack. Sidestepping, he pivoted and gripped the man’s wrist, giving it a vicious twist until the knife in his grasp clattered to the cobblestones.
With a sweeping kick, he sent the blade into the darkness right before ruthlessly breaking the man’s forearm and sending a fist into his temple to take him down.
“Your companion’s in for a long nap, and you’re next, ya fuck,” Patrick growled.
The tip of the beady-eyed assailant’s weapon was pressed to Fi’s throat, close to the carotid artery. If the man decided to stick her, she’d bleed out before Patrick could dispatch him and get to her.
But he’d die trying.
His intent to kill was plain to see, and the thug’s expression turned uneasy.
The knife he was holding against Fi’s unblemished skin lowered a few inches. “Don’t know who you wronged, but we were paid by the lady to?—”
A shot rang out.
With a gurgle, the man dropped to the ground to stare sightlessly at the clear night sky.
“If you want something done right, you have to do it yourself, ya do,” a female remarked from the shadows.
“Rose.”
Jaysus! The hits kept coming.
“I’d thought you dead by Loman’s hand,” Patrick said as casually as he could manage.
More’s the pity that she wasn’t. All his searching had turned up naught, and he’d gone off the assumption she didn’t make it off the island or that she was too clever to ever show her face around here again. But of course it tracked that she’d be the one to hire assassins to make his life a continued misery.
“Sure, and I thought the same of you,” she replied without expression as she did a visual sweep of Fionola’s person. Smirking, she lifted a dark brow, and Patrick never wanted to smack the smugness from her beautiful face as much as he did at that moment. But he wasn’t Loman, and he didn’t hurt women.
But you did , his conscience taunted. You locked them up and threw away the key, all for the sake of your peace of mind.
Yeah, his choice wasn’t one at all. He had restitution to pay, and he expected it started now if Karma had her way.
As Rose sauntered forward, he did, too, carefully positioning himself in front of Fi, who’d remained unnaturally quiet since his ex-wife shot the hired henchman.
“I heard your caterwauling, Paddy. It’s an embarrassment to the O’Malley name, it is.” Rose gestured toward the pub with her gun, and then frowned at the weapon as if she were surprised she still held it.
“I never claimed to be a rock star.”
Fi’s hand settled on his mid back, and a bit of the tension in his shoulders eased. At least one person appreciated his gesture.
“Why are you here, Rose?” With a nod to the dead man at his feet, he shook his head. “What’s this all about? Are you not done torturing me, then?”
“I came to apologize for my part in Dubheasa’s death and saw these two milling about.” Turning the gun so the grip faced him, she held it out. “I want no more hate between us, Paddy.”
And he’d be buggered if she didn’t appear sincere, but he also knew she couldn’t be trusted. He mentally viewed their situation from all angles, hoping to discover the trick. Nothing came to mind. No reason for her to turn the tables and play the ally.
Accepting the gun and praying it didn’t magically explode in his face, he said, “Then ya shouldn’t be insulting a man’s singing.”
She laughed, and it transformed her face from simply gorgeous to stunning. Not for the first time, he wondered what she ever saw in him. He’d been a fool to believe he could hold on to a rare butterfly like her, and since meeting Fi, he understood a femme fatale the likes of Rose had never been for him. The thing he desired most was a simple life with a woman who truly loved him and was willing to share in that life he wanted so fecking badly.
“In case you didn’t notice, these two didn’t possess magic,” Rose said. “You’ll need to call the Garda to sort this mess out in place of the Witches’ Council.”
“Better for you, yeah?” he couldn’t resist taunting.
Rose simply smiled as if his comment was expected.
“Will you be sticking around to make a statement?” Fi asked her, moving to stand beside Patrick.
“Aye.”
“They said a woman hired them,” he felt compelled to add. “I’m sure you know nothing about that, yeah?”
“It wasn’t me, Paddy. I heard that one say it, but I swear on my life it wasn’t me.”
“I believe her.” Fi grimaced, and she watched Rose like a hawk watches a field mouse. “I might be a feckin’ fool for it, but I do.”
He did, too. Rose hadn’t displayed a single one of her standard tells.
“That leaves you with an unknown enemy, Paddy,” Rose said, and her concern appeared genuine. Her caring was discombobulating. “A dangerous one.”