Page 18 of The Irish Arrangement

“Dec.”

I turned the other way, facing Ian. He tipped his chin toward the other side of the dance floor. Cara and I hadn’t bothered. Dancing was for fools. Just like the two men walking among the guests out there.

Peter Boyle and the same asshole who’d accused one of my fighters of cheating.

“How the fuck did they get in here?” I demanded.

Ian shrugged, moving to stand.

“No. I’ll deal with them.” I held my hand out to him, suggesting that he stand guard over Cara. She’d stuck at my side the whole two hours we were here. I didn’t trust her not to leave. She was already showing as a flight risk.

By the time I crossed the dance floor, they were dealt with. Another man I trusted had reached them and gotten them to think twice about coming here to spy or otherwise stir up trouble. Many members of the crime families were here. Some as allies, others as enemies, and more as something in between. But the Boyles were by far my father’s nemesis, and I refused to let them stay.

When I turned back to the table, surprised with how badly I wanted to be near my sexy wife again, I stopped short.

She wasn’t there.

The table was empty.

Fuck!

I hurried toward Ian, who spoke with a dignitary who liked having our protection. He smiled, mingling and doing that diplomatic, bureaucratic bullshit I didn’t have the patience for. As soon as he noticed me storming close, he frowned.

“What’s wrong?” He leaned to look past me. “Is Boyle?—”

I grabbed the front of his jacket and pulled him closer, yanking him out of his conversation. “Where is she?”

He huffed. “On the patio outside. She wanted a breath of fresh air.”

Ignoring how he looked at me like I was insane to be this worried, I released him and glowered at the floor-to-ceiling windows that showed the darkness of the night out there.

“Dec.” He smoothed down his jacket where I’d wrinkled the garment. “Relax. The guards are out there.”

“She’s a runner. I can tell.” I wouldn’t update him about how she'd tried to make a deal with me to let her go in six months. I had no intention to ever give her up. Besides, couldn’t he understand how dire this was? Cara had to work out. She had to give me an heir. Dad wouldn’t live long enough for Ian to locate another bride for me.

“You’re seriously going to hover over her?” He shook his head, amused. “Relax,” he repeated. “The guards would stop her from running.”

I didn’t believe him. I jogged outside, seeking her in the shadows. When I didn’t spot her immediately, my heart raced. Adrenaline filled me. I wanted a fight. I was spoiling for one, eager to vent this instant anger that she’d fucking run off.

“Fuck!” I grumbled to myself as I stalked around, searching through the gardens out back. The landscaped area offered numerous paths leading to fountains and artistic hedges. It would be too easy for someone to sneak away with this confusing labyrinth of greenery. And she was determined, too.

“You fucking little?—”

I stopped short, losing the other half of my complaint as I found her.

Seated on a granite bench, she rolled her head like she was erasing the kinks in her tight neck.

Clamping my lips shut, I gritted my teeth and stalked toward her. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

She whirled around, standing as she pivoted on the bench. “What?” Narrowing her eyes, she lost that slight peaceful expression she wanted to hide from me.

“What the fuck are you doing?” I grabbed her arm, bringing her with me out of this clearing of soft grass. She wobbled in her heels, struggling to walk as quickly as I did over the lawn.

“I was getting a breath of fresh air!” She struggled to wrench free, and I growled, turned on and riled up even more by her antagonism.

“The fuck you were.” I leaned back, hoisting her up and over my shoulder.

“Declan! Put me down!”

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