Page 42 of Three Irish Kings

“Well, you know I won’t let her do that to me.”

Liam nods so quickly it’s almost offensive. Of course, he would trust me with Maggie instead of Dare. To be fair, I don’t have the problem with women that Dare always has had.

“Go home and get some rest,” I order, and Liam sighs, standing up.

He runs a hand through his hair.

I stare at him for a moment. “What happened? You look... shaken up.”

“Maggie and I... or Isla and I... we had... a moment.”

My eyebrows shoot up nearly to my hairline. “Youdid? What the hell? Is she some kind of succubus?”

“More like we all need to get laid.”

But despite Liam’s flippant response, I feel unsettled.

Liam isn’t like Dare, who flirts with everything in a skirt. He’s not even like me, who has long-term situationships because I can’t bear to take home a different woman every night.

Liam’s approach to sex is like his approach to everything else—measured. Calculated.

This isn’t like him.

And Maggie Sullivan is a walking dead woman. She’s trouble for everyone involved.

“Don’t fall for her during the night,” Liam says tiredly, and it’s supposed to be a joke, but it doesn’t sound like much of one.

Still, I snort. “Not likely.”

I’ve never been in love, and I doubt I’m going to fall for the wiles of a woman who’s also a traitor to the man who took me in when I had no one else.

Liam stumbles getting to the door, and I put a hand on his shoulder.

“Take a nap in the truck if you’re not okay to drive.”

“I’m good, just... too much coffee.” His hands tremble a little.

Instead of walking him out to his SUV, I just watch him get into the driver’s side.

I figure he may actually take that nap, but in the end, he just takes off.

I stand there, watching the dust on the road settle, until the softest of footsteps give her away. But I don’t turn, don’t react, until a throat is cleared behind me.

“Is there anything I can do for you?” I turn around.

Maggie, or Isla as she keeps insisting we call her, seems somewhat deflated, almost pouting.

It would be cute if she weren’t pure evil.

“Can anyone ever catch you by surprise?”

“Not if I want to keep living.”

“So, you never get scared?”

“I try to avoid it. Although, nothing wrong with being scared,” I mutter, using one of my old stand-bys. “Fear means you enjoy being alive.”

“That sounds like it was from someone special.”