Page 65 of The Irish Arrangement

I held Cara back, annoyed that she’d try to charge at them when they held up guns.

“So, let me guess,” Peter drawled, enjoying this way too much. “He started shit about your trying to trespass into the Boyle family in the hopes that what, I’d kill you and he wouldn’t have to pay up?”

That’s exactly what I think happened.

“I mean…” Peter smirked. “I’d never turn down a chance to remove a piece of shit like you from the face of the earth.”

“Fuck you,” I warned. “Let us pass before my men get ahold of you.”

“Now why the fuck should I do that?” Peter set his gun down on a ledge built into the brick wall. “When it would be so much more fun to see if the infamous Declan Sullivan is worth half the fighter that he claims to be?”

I ground my molars together, knowing exactly what he was doing.

Challenging me.

Trying to have a little entertainment, pissing me off.

Goading me into a fight just to prove a stupid point.

I’d fought him before, and it seemed he was overdue a reminder of how badly I'd beaten him last time.

“Stand back.” I handed Cara my gun, not trusting this second Boyle not to grab it.

Where the fuck is Ian? I didn’t need backup. Not for myself. I could take this ugly asshole down, both of them. But I had to make sure Cara was safe. I didn’t want to tell her to run to the ballroom. She was safest with me. No one would defend her as much as I would.

My hands were tied, and it seemed like she wasn’t an amateur at holding the gun, anyway. She lifted my handgun with both hands, shaking, but with a proper grip.

“You’re going to regret this,” I warned him as I braced myself to fight. Flicking my fingers, I gestured for him to take his best shot and come at me.

“No, I won’t.” He smirked, walking in a slight circle, calculating his approach. “You’re gonna regret showing your wife what a weak-ass pussy you are?—”

I slammed my fist into his face. Just like that, it was on.

He wasn’t as bad as I thought he would be, but that was okay. I hadn’t lowered my guard and I wouldn’t. His form was shit, but he packed power in the hits he could manage to land on me.

Time blurred. The suspense and adrenaline rush of violence filled me, and I didn’t know whether we fought for seconds or minutes.

My knuckles bled. He was missing a tooth. Both of our bodies would bear the evidence of a hard battle. We punched and kicked, jabbed and dropped each other to the pavement. All throughout the scrimmage, I tried my best to keep himself between him and Cara, to maintain her position at my back so I could not only teach this Boyle asshole a lesson about taunting me into a fight, but also so I could protect her from that other man who’d stepped back to let his buddy handle this unnecessary challenge.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if you did try to marry into our family,” Peter taunted. He grinned, his teeth so bloody that he looked maniacal. “Because you’re nothing but scum. Never will be anything more than a waste of space.”

I growled, sick of his stupidity. I didn’t give a shit about his family. I didn’t want to be aligned with my enemy. They could all rot in hell, but Peter’s teasing rubbed me too far the wrong way.

“I wouldn’t stoop to making up a fucking rumor about my wife’s family.” I glanced at her, not liking how close that other man came toward her. She held the gun up, but her worried focus was on me.

Peter grunted, landing a hard hook on my chin while I was distracted. “Like hell you wouldn’t.”

“Are you suggesting that I’m a liar?” I was sick of lies. Of people lying to me. Of wondering who else would try to deceive me.

I lunged quicker than he could have counted on. Wrapping my arms around him, I knocked him to the ground and locked his head against me. My biceps shook. My elbow strained. And with Peter stuck in a chokehold, I grabbed my fist to deepen the noose of my arm over his neck.

To the death, motherfucker.

Just as he struggled, trying and failing with that panicked frenzy of knowing his life was almost over, a gunshot went off. Then another. Cara screamed. And another gun was fired.

A searing slice of fire bit into my arm, and it was all that other man needed to dissuade me from killing Peter. I groaned, wincing at the graze, and struggled to keep Peter in the chokehold.

“Cara!” I stared at her, worried she’d been hit. She had to have fired at least once.

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