Page 183 of Three Irish Kings

My eyes scan the area, noting that none of the bodies could be theirs.

God, I have to find her, have to tell her I love her.

I ache to see her, pray she’s okay.

I need to apologize. I need to tell her that I don’t care if she’s sleeping with the whole Irish mob, that I just want her. Okay, that’s a lie. There is no way I’d be okay with her sleeping withanyone else, but I don’t mind if she wants the three of us. We can be a family; we already are one.

I was stupid and jealous before, and I won’t ever let her slip from my grasp again.

I blamed her for running when she was our prisoner. I blamed her for sleeping with Liam and Cillian even though I’d participated in the whole thing. I was a hypocrite and an idiot, but not anymore.

Now I just can’t wait to get to her.

A bullet wheezes through me.

And I’ll be damned if I die trying.

I duck and weave, dodging bullets as the guy stalks toward me, firing off shots.

He curses in Gaelic when he needs to reload, and before he is done, I kick him in the chest and throw a rotating kick that sends his gun flying out of his hands.

It falls on the ground and pops off one final shot before settling into the grass.

After I’m done with this son of a bitch, I can’t forget to pick it up. Even though I don’t like guns, this is an unusual situation. Maybe I can use it to threaten and won’t actually need to use it.

I pull out the dagger I always keep on me as he falls on his ass and brandish it at him, hoping he backs down.

He’s struggling to breathe, but he’s getting back to his feet.

“C’mon, boyo. Let’s do this.” I grin, bouncing on my heels, hoping my arrogance confuses him, but he yells and dives at me, twisting my wrists around to try to stab me instead.

I grunt and roll to my side, throwing him off me and into the nearby bushes.

When he gets up again, blood is trickling down his face.

“Fucker won’t stay down.” I'm talking to myself more than him, and he groans as I punch him rapidly in the face, once, twice, three times.

When he keeps coming like he’s the fucking terminator, I finally stab him in the leg, twisting the knife so that he can’t get up again.

He screams, grasping at the wound as I tug the knife out.

Blood sprays all over me.

Fuck.

Must have hit the femoral artery. He’ll bleed out in minutes.

But I can’t think about that right now.

My head spins with adrenaline, and my side stings like fire.

It takes me several moments to realize I’m bleeding too. He got me right between the ribs on my left side.

He gives me a grin before he passes out, dropping the pocketknife he slipped out in the melee.

But the adrenaline is minimizing the pain, and we can always figure out everything with Doc later.

Grunting, I grab the fucker’s gun, pocketing my knife and his and holding the gun in my hand awkwardly for a moment.