Page 26 of Irish

She began to pace around the quiet room. Occasionally, she’d hear laughter coming from upstairs and she’d hope the meeting was going to end soon and they’d be down. She felt safe in this space, she knew no one could get in uninvited, but still, a heavy unease settled over her. She was on edge, waiting for her phone to vibrate again.

“Something wrong?” Irish asked a few minutes later as he approached.

“I—”

“Mak, baby, remember the conversation we had last night? We keep nothing from each other. The only way our relationship will work is if you are open and honest with me.”

“I got another one,” she whispered, fishing her phone out of her pocket.

“Another what, baby?”

“Another threatening text message.”

“Baby girl, I need you to be very clear with Daddy right now. What do you mean another threatening text message? Tell me everything.”

“I screenshotted each one before I blocked the numbers, but they are just using another number. I don’t know how they are doing it.” She handed him the phone. His eyes narrowed as he read. Protective fury replaced his smile.

“Nobody threatens what's mine,” he growled, the vice-president patch on his cut seeming to bristle with his anger.

“My first guess is Eugene?” His question sliced the silence, and she shook her head.

“I don’t think so. It’s not something he’d likely do.” It was too obvious, too convenient to blame the jilted fiancé she'd abandoned at the altar.

Irish's jaw clenched; determination was etched in the set of his mouth. He pulled out his phone, punching in numbers with purpose. The line rang once, twice, thrice before a click signaled the connection.

“Eugene,” Irish's voice held a steely edge. “We need to talk.”

Makenzie watched as Irish paced, his conversation with Eugene a series of terse questions and sharp glances her way. Finally, he ended the call, the finality echoing in the click of the disconnect.

“He denied everything,” Irish said, frustration simmering beneath his words. “And I believe him.”

“I wouldn’t think he’d be the type.”

He took her by the hand and walked her over to where she’d been working. “Sit here and don’t move. I’m going to call Jay and ask him to come. In the meantime, I need you to type me up alist of anyone you think could be behind this, even if it’s a distant possibility.”

Makenzie worked through the list as Irish made his calls. Who could it be? She blinked back anger, whoever it was, she didn’t deserve this. She scribbled names down on a piece of paper. Eugene’s sister, who was fiercely protective of him, or Jamie, maybe Joseph James. She chewed on the tip of the pen trying to think of anyone else. No other names came to her.

Irish came back inside and walked over to her, squatting beside her, he took the list. “Is this it? Just three?”

“Do you expect me to have a long list of enemies who hate me?” She asked.

“No, sweet girl. I’m shocked you have three.” Jay came walking in then.

“Got your message, Irish,” Jay said without preamble, turning to face them. “Threats are no joke.”

“Thanks for coming on such short notice, Jay,” Irish replied, his tone appreciative yet edged with urgency.

“As luck would have it, I was a couple blocks away when you called.” Jay's gaze shifted to Makenzie, respectful but assessing. “You must be Makenzie. Sorry we're meeting under these circumstances.”

“Hi,” she responded, a small wave accompanying her greeting. Her voice didn't quite carry the confidence she wished it did. She looked inquisitively at the woman who stood beside him.

“This is my girlfriend, Natasha.”

“Tasha.” She reached her hand out to Makenzie. “Nice to meet you.”

“You, too,” she said shyly. Great, the first time she was meeting her, and she’d hear all the dirty details about the people who disliked her.

“Is it okay if I go and say hi to Kylie?” Natasha asked Jay.

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