Page 9 of Three Irish Kings

Isla’s face, even if a bit chubbier and with duller eyes, stares back at me...

Ididlook at the pictures, and Ididnotice the similarities, but the woman in front of me in the flesh was so muchmorethan the pictures show. So, I let myself believe for a moment that maybe…

But there is no denying it now.

Isla is Maggie. Isla is thejob.

Disappointment rushes through me.

I really want to take her home and show her why I’m called Dare.

“Look, man, I know you want me to back off, but I won’t do it.” I want this woman. And fuck me if I don’t always get what I want.

I see something I want, and I go for it, Fuck the consequences. It’s what gave me my name.

“The fuck you won’t. This isn’t me asking, this is me telling you. Stop thinking with your dick and do your damned job.”

“Why can’t I just get tonight with her and bring her in tomorrow, after we’ve got it out of our systems?”

“Are you fucking kidding me right now? You want to fuck the traitor?”

“That’s—”

Liam scoffs. “Have you read her file? She’ll have you eating out of the palm of your hand in seconds.”

“I know what I’m doing.”

“The fuck you do. Your thinking head right now is the wrong one, and trust me, I’d rather not have to kill you now. So, back the fuck off from her and let Cillian do what needs to be done.”

A shiver runs through me, thinking of Cillian’s cold gaze, his dark eyes.

I know what Cillian can do, but he wouldn’t do it to a woman or a child. We have standards, after all.

Right?

I don’t know that I can say the same of the man standing in front of me. Liam has a dark side that rivals even Cillian’s, and Cillian is our weapon. The “problem solver.”

I grit my teeth. “Where’s he taking her?”

“To a safehouse. I’ll take her to my father when things are… better.”

What will Ronan do to her?

That’s what I want to ask, but I don’t want to risk Liam pushing me off the balcony. He’s hot-headed, even though he’s always controlled. It’s more of a sharp tongue than outbursts, though.

And Liam’s tongue can cut you to ribbons.

“So, what the hell am I supposed to do?”

Liam rolls his eyes. “Get your ass to the car. You’re driving.”

He storms off, and I stand on the balcony for a moment, watching the bar where Isla is bending over it and asking for a drink. Lucky bartender, with that view.

Fuck.

I’m on car duty again. I hate waiting, but at the same time, I wouldn’t want to be in Cillian’s shoes. At least I’m driving them, so I can keep an eye on her and make sure she is okay.

I hate violence. Yes, I know it’s funny as all hell that someone in my line of work dislikes violence, but that’s me for you.