Page 52 of The Boss

I move first, feinting low. Finn dodges easily, too easily, and I see it in his eyes—he thinks this is a joke. I snap into a hip throw, shifting my weight fast and clean. He catches the move halfway through and counters, toppling us both. We hit the dirt in a tangle of limbs, and I hear muffled laughter from one of the men.

I scramble up and shoot in again. This time, I go for a double leg move, lunging for his thighs and gripping above his knees. He sprawls, but I slip under him, hook a knee, and twist into guard position, trying to wrap my thighs around him. He’s a blur before his weight crashes into me. I tighten my core and try to hold but his strength and size is too much for me. He postures up and drives forward, which flips us both.

“Ah!” I grunt as my back flattens against solid earth. A hell of a lot harder than a training mat. I open my eyes and Finn’s on top of me, frozen. He has one hand braced beside my head, the other locking me immobile.

“Good pressure,” I mutter, trying not to sound winded.

And Finn, who’s clearly won this round without much effort, winks.

I am about to shove him off but in the time it takes me to blink once, Quinn has cleared the entire ring and pulled Finn off of me by his shirt collar.

“You’re done, leave.” Quinn says, angry. I look up at him, ready to protest and demand another round, but he’s not looking at me.

He’s looking at Finn.

And the smirk is gone.

“Quinn,” I say as I sit up. “He was just—”

“Decent effort,” he cuts me off, his voice gruffer than usual, “You’re fast and precise. But it’s clear you only know defense. You need to learn how to attack.”

“Then teach me.”

“Boss,” Mac cuts in, “Issue with a delivery.”

In what seems like slow motion, Quinn turns to glare at his cousin. If looks could kill, the heat from my husband would have instantly sparked Mac into a ball of flames.

“Ní os a comhair,”he growls. I don't know what he said but I’m sure it was something likedon’t talk shop in front of my spying little wife, you stupid fuckface.“Let’s go then,” he adds in English, still glaring at Mac who is not phased.

Impressive. I think I’d pee my pants if this massive psycho killer spoke to me in that voice with that look on his face.

I start to back up but Quinn’s gaze snaps to me, still pissed as he says, “Luna.” I don’t reply but I manage to maintain eye contact. “Don’t come out here again.” I start to roll my eyes. He goes on, “I mean it. You can train in the gym. Not here.”

I square my shoulders, “Fine.”

He holds my stare, watching. I feel like he’s searching my soul, wondering if he can trust me to listen to him.

You can’t, asshole.

As if he heard me, he sighs heavily and turns. He leaves me in place, walking away with the men but then says over his shoulder, “Don’t stay out past evening, there are no lights out here, you’ll trip.”

“Okay,” I lie.

I’m definitely staying out.

If for no other reason than to watch the main drive from one of the tall hedges. This is a golden opportunity to see which vehicles leave to deal with this botched delivery. Will Quinn go? In which vehicle? With whom? How many visible weapons will they carry? I can track how long they’re gone, which will tell me how far away the drop location is.

Some traininganda quality intel opportunity in the same day? I walk to the bushes and for the first time in days, I smile wide.

CHAPTER 26

Mark

Mark: Please tell me we are about to go in for Luna

Gailo: Preferably guns blazing, and explosives! Torching the Irish to the ground

Robbie: We were supposed to keep the channel clear