Page 37 of Dublin Brute

Much, much more.

So, why pretend to like me? What purpose does that serve? Has he been lying to me all along? A rush of anger hits me—it’s suffocating, twisting inside me like a knife. Is this some kind of game to him?

He was so gentle with me. It felt like he wanted to protect me from everything dark in this world—inhisworld. And maybe that’s it.

Maybe the shooter was after him and Tanya got shot by mistake.

Maybe he feels guilty that an innocent woman became collateral damage in his family’s war of power and corruption.

My father always said that danger surrounds people like him.

Oh, my god! What will Da say when he finds out?

The thought makes my blood run cold. Brendan is on my father’s radar, and that means we were doomed before we even got started. I may want to assert my independence, but I can’t associate with the element of society my father has dedicated his life to fighting against.

The sounds of fists to flesh and the grunt of men hitting the metal of the cage are too much. I can’t look. I don’t want to see him like that.

Brendan—my Brendan—might not be real, but he meant something to me.

I won’t let reality tear that away from me.

“People like him only understand violence,” I whisper under my breath, repeating my father’s words.

Kate shifts in her seat next to me, caught up in the energy of the match. “What was that?”

“Nothing.” I push back the dread gnawing at my insides, but all I can think about is leaving before someone recognizes me or worse—realizes there’s a connection between Brendan and me.

I swallow hard. “I need to go.”

Kate’s brow furrows as she glances back at the cage where Brendan dominates every inch of space. “But you’ll miss the Dublin Beast! He’s up next! And Bryan Quinn is even more brutal than Brendan.”

“More brutal than this?” My heart races even faster at the thought—they are animals. My father’s patronizing laughter rings in my ears.Don’t be so naïve, Nora.

Dear old Da was right all along.

“I can’t do this.”

“Nora?” Kate turns from the fight and her words falter when she sees my face. “Mary Mother, what is it? Are you all right?”

“I will be. I need some air.”

“Okay, I’ll come.” Kate grips her clutch and begins to stand.

“No, I…I need to get home.”

“Then I’ll drive you.”

“No. You’re enjoying this. I’ll call a taxi.” I stand, hunching down to keep from disturbing the people in the row behind us. “You stay. Enjoy the rest of the night.”

“No way am I leaving you alone right now,” she insists.

“I’m fine.” My voice rises above the roar of excitement from the crowd as the match ends and the building erupts, cheering for Brendan. “I’m just a little squeamish. I’ll be fine.”

She hesitates for a moment but finally nods, and settles back into her seat. “Are you sure you don’t want me to come? We can go somewhere else. We’re looking pretty fabulous.”

Why ruin her night, too? “I’m sure. I’ll call you tomorrow and we can make plans for our training shift on Wednesday.”

I don’t wait for her response—I shuffle down the row and take off toward the coat check, wanting nothing more than to escape this adrenaline-fueled hellhole and the lies of Brendan Quinn.

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