Page 15 of Iron Blade

Her slap was hard and sudden. The sound echoed through the large space.

Conversation around us silenced like a record scratch as all eyes turned our way.

The heat of her strike burned my cheek, and I couldn’t help but smirk.

I should have felt rage. I should have been fucking livid, but I wasn’t. All I felt was a sudden pang of fear. A fear that if someone saw, they’d do harm to her on my behalf. That’s what was expected. Revenge, in the name of a Green.

So, I fought my instincts and placed a reprimanding finger in front of her face, warning through clenched teeth, “You’re not a New Yorker, sweetheart, and you’re not of the life.”

We were almost nose-to-nose as I towered over her.

The next words I delivered as a warning, though an onlooker would think I was whispering a threat. She looked terrified, so that helped.

“I’ll forgive your ignorance.” I could almost taste her again. “But no one lays a hand on a Green without consequences.”

Her lips parted and she gasped, fear flashed through her brown eyes. Then the expression melted away, replaced by defiance and malice before she spat in my face.

The audible gasp from the gathering on-lookers caught her attention and she must have realized the great sin she had committed.

She looked at me, shaking her head in disbelief as she took several tentative steps back.

I allowed it.

Then she ran. Before anyone else could go after her, I followed, raising my hand in a dismissive wave to let whoever was watching know that we were not to be followed.

If I didn’t go after her, someone else would. Someone with misguided ideas of sucking up to a Green. I had to make sure that did not happen.

I prowled after her, keeping a wary distance, through the room where our coats hung, and on past that to the great steps that lead to the street.

I watched as she went to the edge of the sidewalk, looking up and down, searching for a cab. Another man in a peacoat came up, staying a couple arm’s length away, but seeming to be on the same search for transport.

I waited, debating how I was going to tame my sweet, defiant little Muse.

Chapter seven

Are You In Trouble?

Kira

Imight not be a New Yorker, but I knew who the Greens were. Better than most. I had been briefed on him before I took this assignment. Before my cover began. I was supposed to avoid him and all the other mafia men. That was the job: to be in their proximity, to watch and observe, but never to enter their world. Certainly not to kiss the heir of the most powerful mafia in town!

This was a terrible idea. My handler would be pissed!

Eoghan Green was the stuff of New York lore - there was talk of cement shoes, broken kneecaps, and a war with the Russians that left men dead. There were reports of children hung by their thumbs on the docks. They were like the boogeyman, or Krampus. A thing to scare little children into not going out after dark.

Defying him had been a big mistake, and I had doubled down by literally spitting in his face!

What the fuck had I been thinking?

He had sexually harassed me, and that was wrong. I had a right to defend myself, and my body, whether he was Green, Blue or Magenta. But the rules were different if you were undercover.

I was surprised when he let me walk away. I was even more surprised when no one had stopped me as I stomped out the glass doors into the sleety winter evening.

A brown-haired man in a long coat came out, standing beside me as he slipped on his brown leather gloves. His shoulders were hunched, making his otherwise tall frame medium height. Even his arms dangled in a limp way, looking like any other middle-aged desk jockey who probably wanted to go to the gym more, but didn’t.

Without looking at me he said, “Are you in trouble?”

His British voice was lightly disguised - more subdued than how he normally was. I wouldn’t have heard it if I didn’t know what he sounded like when he wasn’t faking an accent.

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