Page 2 of The Enforcer's Redemption

"I don't have it. I spent it." Aisling trembles. She knows how this works. It isn't the first time her family has had a run-in with ours. The name O'Rourke in Dublin is synonymous with power and influence—and death.

Ronan's eyes trace up to my face. "Did you find anything?" he asks, glaring at me.

"Nothing," I tell him. A search of her office and home revealed nothing. No money, no secret stash anywhere. It's possible it's hidden elsewhere, but I don't know where.

"Ms. O'Connor, if you can't return their money, they'll want you to pay in your blood. It's blood the O'Rourke Clan will not allow to be shed, so now you have to remain under our protection." Ronan now leans over his desk, palms splayed on the hard wood. His tie dangles under his body as he stares menacingly.

"Just let them take me." It seems like Aisling isn't afraid of the consequences of her actions. It's stupid and brazen.

"It's not that easy, and you know it." He pushes upward and straightens, then tucks his tie against his body and buttons his coat. His eyes lock on my face. "If she's hacked into their accounts, they'll potentially have a trace back to ours. Get Chester on that. Clean it up. We can't let our assets be exposed or made vulnerable." Then he looks down at her. "You really fucked up."

Aisling looks away from him. I have a mind to grab her head and force her to look back at him, but we promised her father that not a hair on her head would be harmed.

"Like I said, let them take me." She crosses her arms over her chest, and her shoulders seem to deflate a little, slumping slightly.

"You're bound to an agreement." Ro's gaze hardens on her. "You don't get a choice, Isla, and inciting anger in our enemies won't help you get out of it. You'll marry into this family by month's end." Ronan jerks his chin upward at me. "Take her to your house. She goes nowhere and does nothing until the wedding. It's the only way."

"Uh!" She scoffs, standing up. "You can't do that!"

Before she can dart out the door, my arm is around her waist, pulling her back. "Don't make this harder than it has to be, Isla," Ronan grumbles. "Declan, I'm trusting you. Don't fuck this up. You know what's at stake."

I nod at him as I wrestle the very angry woman in my arms. I do know what's at stake. I have to clear my name in my brother's eyes and make sure he understands that I'm on his side, and I'm going to do whatever it takes to redeem myself.

2

ISLA

"Get your fucking hands off me!" My shouting doesn't seem to faze Declan O'Rourke, nor does the way I pound my fists into his arm and side. I'm furious, ready to run as soon as he sets me down, but he's so strong even if I tried, I can't fight him. And with my luck, he'd run faster than me too.

"Feckin’ woman, stop hitting me." Declan manhandles me through the door to his home, then up the winding staircase. I've not been here before. It's a large home with expensive marble flooring, large paintings on the walls, and old woodwork that seems original to the house.

All the O'Rourkes live like this, displaying their wealth like a badge of pride. Ronan's place was even nicer, though I didn't really take time to sit and admire the decorations when I was afraid of what he'd say. Somehow, this seems worse than any punishment he could've dealt out. I wanted a punishment. I wanted him to just smack me or tell me to pay him back for the trouble. This is way worse.

"I can fucking walk on my own." I continue to fight him on the climb up the stairs. My kicking and lashing out are my attempts to free myself, but it's exhausting me too. I kick over a table inadvertently, sending an expensive-looking vase crashing to the floor in a dozen pieces. Declan doesn't bat an eyelash. He stalks forward down the hall.

When he finally sets me down inside a bedroom, I shove him hard, then fix my suit jacket and slacks. "This is ridiculous!" I spit. My slacks are riding up, my hair frazzled. I run a hand over it to smooth it down, but nothing can smooth away my anger. "I want to go home."

"It’s not safe," Declan grumbles. He shuts the door behind himself quietly then turns to let his eyes drink me in. I'm not immune to the effect of a handsome man in my presence admiring my good looks, but under these circumstances, I'm not thrilled with it.

"What do you mean, not safe? I live there. It's where all my belongings are." I'm heaving for breath after the wrestling match I just had. It was like banging against a brick wall.

"I mean it's gone, Aisling. They burnt it to the ground already. Do you understand? You’re fucking with Ronan's biggest enemy right now, and they're not happy." He doesn't seem too pleased with me, either. He scowls at me and scratches his beard as his eyes study me.

He’s probably the most handsome of all the O'Rourke men. I've always found myself attracted to his good looks and strength. I'd have told my sister only a few weeks ago that if this stupid arrangement went through and I couldn’t escape like I hoped, Declan would be the one I'd want to marry most. Of course, based solely on looks. I hate the entire idea of arrangedmarriages, and marrying into this family sickens me. I want to get away from this. It's the only reason I've been skimming money from the O’Reilly Clan to begin with.

"How much?" Declan barks at me, and I turn away, walking toward a window on the far side of the room.

"The O’Reillys don't need the money anyway." I stop by the window and pull aside the thick black drapes. The room is gloomy, dark colors and low light—not at all like my brightly colored home which apparently is up in smoke now. I know my theft was risky, but far less risky than stealing straight from the O'Rourkes. That would've been a death sentence for me and my father. I just never thought the O’Reillys would notice so quickly. I hoped to be long gone before anyone caught on.

"How fucking much?" he demands very loudly. I edge the curtain back farther and stare out at the gloomy sky over Dublin. It's been raining for a few days now, matching my mood. This wedding gets closer every day, and my chance of getting to that cache in my father's back yard seems less and less likely.

"More than two hundred thousand," I tell him, turning to look him in the eye.

He steels his gaze, which he thinks is intimidating to me, but I’ve seen worse. Besides, how can you be intimidating when you're so spectacularly attractive? I'm supposed to be scared of those dark emerald eyes and such a manicured beard? He looks like he stepped off a cover ofGentleman'sQuarterly. Doesn't even make me nervous, except for the flutter in my belly when he checks me out.

"What the hell were you thinking, woman?" He rakes a hand through his hair and loosens his collar by unbuttoning the top button.

"Risk over reward," I say dryly, turning back to the window. "I wanted out."

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