Keira
Saint doesn’t move.
A radio crackles, and a deep male voice speaks. “Nothing unusual here.”
Footsteps dull when the two officers stroll along the line of stalls on their way out.
Saint listens for another few seconds, and only when the voices fade does he drag his hand away, a finger brushing my lips in a warning.
However, I’m not a wallflower, so I thump my fists into his chest with the intention of pushing him away. He absorbs the hit and stays rooted which infuriates me even more.
“Stay quiet,” he says on a low rasp. “Don’t make me cover your mouth permanently.”
I exhale a loud sigh when he finally inches back. Though not far, it’s enough to let me breathe without our chests colliding.
I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. “How dare—”
“Stop,” he whispers, not letting me finish. “Not until they’ve gone.”
A car door slams, and Rafe shouts over the engine purr, “Come back any time, Aisleen. Let’s have a drink together.”
Saint flips off his cap and drags a hand through his hair.
“You sure as hell don’t make this easy,” he says, eyes cutting back to mine. “Every damn thing ya do is a problem I have to fix.”
“Why should I make anything easy? You made me your problem,” I snap. “And now you’re angry because I tried to go home.”
“No.” He puts the cap on his head and sighs. “I’m pissed because ya almost got me arrested. I’ve worked too damn hard to let another Harrington screw me over.”
“So what?” I bite back. “I deserve to let a Tallon screw me over instead? Your perception of reality is warped, Saint. I’m not the person you have issues with, so how about you show some respect.”
His jaw clenches, and a flicker of irritation cuts through his expression before he reins it in and clears his throat.
“You want respect?” He moves in, shadow swallowing light as my back hits the stall wall. “Earn it.”
“Choking you with a lead rope would give me respect for myself,” I say, even though the nearest rope isn’t within reach.
“If you actually succeeded, Harrington,” he says quietly, “who’d keep my family from tearing you apart? And they will, if ya give them half a chance.”
I force a breath past the tightness in my chest and meet his stare head-on.
“Oh my God.” I half laugh. “Don’t pretend you’re suddenly the nice guy who’s looking out for me. We both know that’s bullshit. I’m not here by choice.”
Saint’s gaze catches on the woolly hat sitting crooked on my head after the struggle. Before I can decide whether to brace or duck, he reaches up and pulls it off in one swipe.
A few loose strands have moved across my lashes. He clears them back with his fingers. The contact is fleeting, but my skin reacts anyway, a shiver chasing down my spine before I can stop it.
“That line might impress your girlfriend,” I say, doing my best to keep my breath even, “but it sure as hell doesn’t impress me.”
His eyes follow the movement of his hand as it drops, his focus narrowing like he’s registered something he didn’t intend to.
When his gaze lifts to mine, it sends my pulse skidding.
I should be terrified by this situation. Devastated that my only means of escape has just driven away. Instead, my heartbeat is loud and reckless, and I hate myself for it.
“I don’t need to impress anyone, Keira,” he says.
When my name rolls off his tongue in that gravel-deep tone of his, it sparks a weird sense of excitement inside me.
“And now,” he says, voice low and almost reflective, “you’re gonna fix the strips ya ripped off my arm.”
I force a small laugh, aiming for effortless, unfazed, trying for a coolness I absolutely do not feel with him this close.
“Fine. Now back up, Saint. You’re too damn close. I can practically taste your shower gel.”
Something shutters behind his eyes like a barrier locking into place.
“Yeah,” he says, voice level again, stripped of heat. “We’re done here.”
He steps back, finally giving me air.
Without another look my way, he turns to the horse, runs a slow hand over its neck, and presses a brief kiss to its muzzle, his movements grounded, controlled, his thoughts entirely elsewhere.
“Let’s go,” he says.
Rafe stalks toward us, shoulders tight, eyes already narrowed like he’s been gearing up for a fight.
“So what happens now, Saint, huh?” he demands. “Where are ya putting the girl so she’s out of the way?”
His emphasis on girl burns, a reminder that to him I’m not a person, just a problem.
Saint doesn’t stop walking, doesn’t even blink. “She’ll stay with me. I’ll keep an eye on her.”
Rafe steps into his path. “You’re talkin’ responsibility for her then? Cuz look how that’s worked out so far. She almost sunk us.”
“Move.”
Rafe stays still. “She needs to be locked up, somewhere away from the yard.”
“Don’t push me on this,” Saint replies, his voice a husky snarl. “It’s not up to you what I do.”
Rafe huffs out a dark laugh. “Saint, that’s a Harrington beside ya. She’s Alasdair’s blood. Her loyalty sits with him.”
Saint’s hand comes up, commanding silence.
“This conversation is boring, Rafe. We all knew this job wouldn’t be easy. So back the fuck off and stop thinking ya know better,” he says. “What happens on this yard is my call. I’m responsible for not fucking things up.”
Rafe studies him, unease flickering in his eyes. “Why keep her at your place? Why not shove her in one of the outbuildings and block up the door?”
Saint runs a hand over his mouth. “Because I know how to manage a threat.”
He angles his head, meeting my gaze with a look that heats the air between us.
“And she’s not much of a threat when she’s cuffed and stripped of all her riches.”
Rafe’s brows draw tight. “Christ, Saint—”
“That’s enough,” Saint snaps, his tone hard. “Unless I ask, keep your opinions to yourself.”
Rafe’s jaw works, anger chewing through. “When this all goes to shit, don’t say ya weren’t warned.”
“Harrington,” Saint snaps. “Keep moving.”
Saint shoulders past his brother hard enough that Rafe stumbles half a step. In a few more strides we walk straight into the daylight and crisp fresh air.
Rafe stalks away, muttering curses that grow faint with distance.
Saint doesn’t look back at me. Rather, he walks on with an unhurried, confident gait that leaves me trailing behind.
“You’re staying in my cabin until I say otherwise,” he throws over his shoulder, not slowing. “That’s the end of it.”
Before I can respond, a loud, blaring horn rips through the yard.
Saint stops dead.
A brand-new black Range Rover swings around the corner and rolls to a halt. Smoke leaks from the half-open driver’s window even before it settles.
Máirín Tallon steps out wearing heavy jeweled rings, thick gold hoops in her earlobes, and a black bun pulled so tight it makes her eyes look feline.
The cigarette between her fingers glows as she stares at us.
“Ciarán,” she says, voice hoarse from years of smoking. “Explain to me why the girl ya stole is strollin’ around my yard while Crowley was here sniffin’ for answers.”
Saint’s jaw ticks. “I have it handled.”
“Handled?” Her smile is thin. “Is that what we’re callin’ it now?”
Her gaze drops to my cuffs before cutting back to her son.
“This wasn’t the plan,” she says, flicking ash. “She was supposed to be kept out of sight, son.”
Saint sighs. “Plans change.”
Máirín lets out a humorless breath, smoke curling from her lips. “Aye, and usually when you’re involved, that means bodies hit the dirt. Don’t tell me she’s gettin’ the better of ya?”
“Of course not, Ma.”
Her attention drills into me again while she speaks to Saint. If her eyes were weapons, I’d be dead.
“The Harrington woman is prettier in real life,” she says. “A girl like that will cause a lot of trouble.”
“I said I’ve got it sorted,” Saint replies, voice dropping into that low, dangerous register that even his brothers listen to.
“And I’m tellin’ ya,” she counters, stepping closer, “that this isn’t how leverage works. We can’t risk her gettin’ loose before her old man signs.”
“She’s cuffed,” Saint says. “And under my supervision.”
Máirín slaps on a sudden fake smile.
“Well then,” she mocks, “welcome to Black Heath, Miss Harrington. I do hope my son is keepin’ ya comfortable.”
Saint bristles. “Ma.”
She ignores him. “If there’s anythin’ ya need, do let me know. Hospitality is our pride.”
Her tone is sweet enough to rot teeth while her glare tells me she’d gut me if I stepped out of line.
“Keep her at arm’s length, son,” she says. “Harrington women are lyin’ bitches. Your da wouldn’t want ya makin’ foolish decisions. Especially one that involves one of them.”
His mother flicks her cigarette to the ground and grinds it under her boot.
Then she climbs into the Range Rover and drives off, dust swirling in her wake.
Saint watches her go, fists clenched at his sides.
“You’re too much trouble,” he says, stepping closer, lowering his voice until it slides down my spine. “And I’m done lettin’ you think ya can get the better of me.”
My breath stutters. “What does that mean?”
He studies me for a long, cold heartbeat.
“It means from now on, Harrington, I keep you where I can see ya. You’ll sleep in my cabin. You’ll eat when I eat, and you won’t leave my sight.”
My pulse punches against my ribs. “Are you serious?”
His eyes narrow. “Leave a Harrington alone long enough, and they’ll show you exactly who they are. And I’ll never trust any of ya.”
“Any normal person would try to escape,” I bite back, folding my arms over my chest. “I’d say you’d do the same, but you’re clearly not normal.”
His jaw ticks at my jab. “Funny how your da hasn’t sent a single man for ya.”
“Because you lied,” I fire back. “Because you and your brothers told the entire town I ran off. Why would he storm in here if he thinks I left willingly?”
“That’s the thing,” Saint says, leaning in. “If he really knew ya…and if he gave a damn, he wouldn’t wait for confirmation.”
My pulse stumbles at the certainty in his tone.
“You don’t know him,” I whisper.
Saint’s laugh is a low rumble. “I know what indifference looks like.”
“You’re twisting this,” I say, pushing at his chest, but he doesn’t move. “He’s doing what he can. The Garda didn’t show up here by accident.”
“They showed up and left,” Saint corrects.
I look away, throat tight, but he grips my chin and pulls my gaze back to his.
“You wanna talk about safety?” he says quietly. “Screw things up for us and this won’t end well. You won’t like my usual version of hospitality.”
Heat shivers through me
“So what?” I manage. “I have to hang out with you twenty-four-seven? That’s like a prison sentence on its own.”
He leans in closer, and my heart races.
“Staying with me isn’t the worst thing that could happen to ya.” His voice drops an octave. “You haven’t seen the worst yet.”