Page 46 of Forbidden Bond

Kids who’d proved themselves, kids who’d helped her at her lowest, who’d supported her, worked hard for her. Everyoneclose to her ended up dead or in trouble. One guilt battled another.

“Where?” she asked because what choice did she have?

“You come alone, sweetcheeks; you bring the Irish, we’ll have a barbecue.”

“Are you afraid of him?” she asked, spiteful and helpless. “If Connel knew—”

“Ire’s got his coming.” The hiss of his rage screamed more than revenge. “You’re gonna pay for the insult, the hurt, for the years of fucking taunting. You’ve got a helluva tab, Princess. I’m calling it in.” Sickness overwhelmed. Terror. Revulsion. Desperation. “One hour. Hustle.”

SEVENTEEN

SHIT. Shit.

Where the hell even was she? Maybe an hour wouldn’t be enough time to travel—where the fuck was her guy?

Rushing through the bedroom to the closet, on the hunt for shoes, she searched the call logs and hit the one with no name. On three rings, he picked up.

“Bluebell?” Niall’s thick Irish accent showered her with hope.

“I need him. I need him now. I need him, please.”

“We’re on our way up.”

Tossing the phone aside, she dropped onto the closet bench to pull boots onto her feet. The moment she heard noise in the office, she leaped up to run through. And there he was, as promised, her guy with his lieutenant at his side.

Running to him, she pressed herself against the steadying pillar of his strong body.

“I have to do something incredibly dangerous and insanely stupid. I have to, Conn. I have to go. I love you, but I have to go.”

“Breathe.” His command at least gave her an aim. “Talk.”

“Strat. He has Strat. He’s—” Her voice broke because she couldn’t—grief didn’t even cover it. “He’s got Strat. He’s taken him, and he—he wants me, you know he wants me. Why does he want me? People are getting hurt, so many—it’s because of me, I’m a—”

“Macushla.”

Right. Okay. That stability, the cool calmness, washed over her. Get it together. Where the fuck would panicking get them?

“I went downstairs looking for Strat. Daly said he wasn’t here, and I’d seen the phone on the desk—I called him.”

“Strat?”

She nodded. “His number’s in my phone, it’s in his phone too. I called, but he didn’t answer. Someone else did.”

“Who answered?”

Despite the question, the keen light in his eyes suggested he already knew the answer.

“Evander.” Another name she’d be happy never to hear again. “He’s got Strat, said he put three bullets in him.” Resting her face against Conn, the tremor shaking her wouldn’t subside. “He’s my best friend, he’d die for me, I know. We can’t let him. Please… please don’t ask me to give up on him. He’s looked after me, hunted me down after…” Raising her chin, her wet eyes sought his certainty. “Please, Mo Grá.”

His finger slid from her temple to her chin. “Strat’s proved his loyalty. It’s to you first and foremost, as is the McDades. Where is he?”

“Hustle,” she said. “He told me to be there in an hour.” Without a word, Niall reversed to slip out. When the door closed, she licked her dry lips. “I don’t want anyone to get hurt.”

“Anyone?”

Was that a question about…?

“You, Niall, our people. I don’t give a shit what happens to Evander,” she said. “I don’t want any McDades hurt. I don’t want Strat hurt… I don’t want you hurt.”

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