Page 25 of Ciaran

Tanner.

Fuck.

Dropping my bags onto the sidewalk, I sprint across four lanes of busy traffic. Taxi drivers blast their horns, and I slam the palm of my hand on the hood of a car that almost mows me down, cursing the fact I’d changed out of my uniform before setting off for home. Not that I’m scared of Tanner in the slightest, but at least I’d have had my gun with me if I hadn’t. Then again, it’s probably a good thing that I don’t. The temptation to put a bullet in his groin might be too hard to resist.

“Millie?”

Her chin kicks up, and her eyes latch on to mine. They widen then flash with…relief? Whatever, she seems fucking glad to see me.

Tanner narrows his gaze as I get closer, and recognition sparks in his eyes.

“Ciaran O’Reilly. Fuck me. Or is it Callum? I never could tell you two apart. Good to see you, man.” He thrusts out his hand. His wide, too-bright smile, so cocky, so fucking fake, jacks up my anger, and I let his hand linger in the air.

“Tanner,” I say, my tone short and brusque.

Tanner’s hand falls to his side, and his face hardens. “Sorry we can’t stop. Millie and I have things to discuss.”

He tries to walk away with his hand still clasping Millie’s elbow, but I stand in front of him, barring his way.

Tanner’s nostrils flare. “What the fuck you doing, man? Move.”

I don’t even acknowledge he’s spoken when I turn my attention to Millie. “Do you want to go with him?”

Spittle gathers at the corners of Tanner’s mouth, and he almost trips over his words. “She’s my fucking wife. She’ll go where I say. Now move before I put you down.”

Adrenaline rushes through me, giving me an edgy, twitchy feeling—emotions I’m well used to in my day job. I roll back my shoulders. “Dial it back, Tanner.” I widen my stance and thrust out my chest, my arms loose at my sides.

“Fuck you,” Tanner spits, his own stance moving aggressively.

Oh, here we go.

I sneer. “Go ahead, dickhead. You know you want to.”

“Ciaran,” Millie warns. “Don’t provoke him. Please.”

Tanner’s fists clench, and he swings. I easily dodge his attempt at a punch and get him in a headlock.

“Stop it!” Millie shouts as people on the street pause to stare at the commotion, then quickly lose interest. Scuffles on the streets of New York aren’t exactly unusual.

I meet her panicked gaze, my own full of what I hope is reassurance, while Tanner twists his body, trying to escape the tight hold I have him in. It won’t do any good. I have training and composure. Tanner has anger and… well, that’s it. There will only be one winner in this altercation.

“Do you want me to let him go?” I ask her.

She nods.

I release him. He staggers backward, straightens, then jabs a finger at me. “I’m pressing charges.”

I grin. “Good luck with that.” I don’t expand on why that will end in failure. Let him wonder.

Tanner reaches for Millie’s arm once more, and I insert my body in between them. “Whoa there. Touch her again and see what fucking happens.”

“She’s my wife.”

I smile slowly. “Yeah, so you said.” I turn to Millie. “Do you want to go with him?” I reiterate because she didn’t get the chance to answer the first time I asked.

She hesitates, inhales a breath, then gives the smallest shake of her head, followed by a reaffirming, if quiet, “No.”

Suppressing a triumphant grin, I turn back to Tanner. “You heard the lady. Now, if you hurry, you might just catch the last Greyhound back to Chicago.”

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