Page 26 of The Enforcer's Redemption

"Da, please," I mumble softly when Mum moves ahead into the tent. I see Connor escorting her, then the large arch of roses near the front, beneath which Declan stands looking attractive as ever in his black tux.

"For the family, Isla." Da pats my hand and begins to escort me between the rows of chairs, and I, the silent, obedient daughter, go with him, thinking how at the first chance, I'm gone. I'll tear this train off and run, and they'll never find me.

I just have to make it through this ceremony.

19

DECLAN

She's a vision. Transformed by the skillful hands of Maeve and the wedding planner, Isla is a thing of beauty. The dress suits her, stealing my watchful eye. From my vantage point on the dais, I should be surveying the crowd, watching for threats, but I can't help myself from stealing a long, languid glance over her.

The dress fits her perfectly, pushes those thick, fleshy globes upward to almost inappropriate heights. Jealousy flares to life in my chest as I think of all the sick fucks in this tent, seated in the cushioned folding chairs, watching my beloved, beautiful bride as she passes. How their eyes must see what I see.

Movement near the back of the tent causes me to glance up and take notice. It's just Connor taking his position there after escorting Mrs. O'Connor to her spot near the front. I'm on edge. Everything threatens to trigger me. Under my left arm is my chest holster. I squeeze my bicep to my ribs as Isla nears, reminding myself that the weapon is there if I need it.

I'm not foolish enough to believe that Sebastian will honestly respect the silent rule, but the idea of Isla having my name asan added layer of protection makes me want to get this over with even faster. She has no clue why it's so important, and the minute she's my wife, I no longer have to respect their ridiculous rules about keeping things a secret.

She doesn't look calm, though. As she rises onto the dais and stands facing me, she trembles. Her hands shake, jostling the petals on the flowers in her hands until Maeve takes it and stands behind her. Finn stands behind me, Mick near the stairs. He nods at us as the priest begins.

"Who gives this woman to be this man's lawful wife?" the priest asks, and Mick nods.

"Aye, her mother and myself," he says, bowing from the shoulders. His smile is forced but in a professional way. Mick and I have an understanding about this arrangement, and he knows how I feel. I had a talk with him this morning, letting him know that Isla is my precious treasure, title or not. I will do anything to cherish her and protect her and to honor the bonds of this marriage as if it were forged in the truest of loves. She's stolen my heart and she doesn’t even know it.

"I…" Isla whimpers. "I can't…" she blurts out, and then she darts off the dais. Two, then three steps, stumbling down the stairs toward the rows of chairs where Ronan brandishes his weapon, resting it on his lap. Isla stops dead in her tracks, and I watch her eyes skim over the crowd of people.

Brennan cries, Rebecca beside her clinging to her mother. Our guests seem startled and shocked. Only a few of them know the truth of this arrangement—the mayor, who seems annoyed that Isla is hesitant, and the inspector general, who has the same disgruntled expression. A quiet murmur rises among the rest asMick gently turns Isla back to the dais and Maeve straightens her train out as she ascends the stairs again.

"She's just a little nervous," Maeve says in a hushed tone. A few chuckles rise up as we all take our places again, but I see the terror in Isla's eyes. I wish I could change this.

I want to wrap my arm around her and shoot my way out of this tent, scoop her up and run away. That fear that paralyzes her is wrong and it should never happen. She should be free to make this choice on her own. We both should be. But there's no way out but through. I take her trembling hand and brush the pad of my thumb over her knuckles as the priest continues.

He reads a passage from the Bible, then a poem. His prayer is rousing, drawing grunts of approval from many of our guests, and when we exchange vows, Isla's voice is so meek no one can hear her but me and the priest. It's done. It's good enough. She is my wife, my partner, and now my property to protect.

I don’t even wait for him to announce us or to tell me to kiss my bride. I pull her against my body and cup her cheek. My mouth covers hers, moving against her with hunger and desire. Isla is at first startled but soon relaxes into the kiss and melts into me, clinging to me as chuckles rise from the guests.

"I suppose you may kiss your bride," jokes the priest, and more roaring laughter ensues, but I continue kissing her until she's putty in my hands.

When I pull away, to the applause of the crowd as the priest pronounces us man and wife, I rest my forehead against hers. And as the music begins to play, I whisper, "It's done, Isla, and I'm never going to let anyone touch a hair on your head now. Do you understand? I will kill anyone who even looks at you."

I see her red-rimmed eyes and know she's been crying. At some point today, my beautiful bride has shed tears. I've never seen her cry, not even in the most frustrating or terrifying times. It worries me, and I want to ask, but she nods and the priest nudges my shoulder.

There will be time to investigate her feelings later, when this feast is over and the press have their fill of images to plaster all over the internet and every newspaper in the country. It isn't every day that an O'Rourke has a wedding, so this is huge news. Ronan is right. It's the fastest way to spread the word officially that Isla O'Connor is now an O'Rourke and thus off limits to our foes. It will put Sebastian in a very dangerous position if he continues his pursuit of her. Every family in this city will know it, and he'll make enemies of them all.

"Congratulations," Ronan says stiffly as he approaches. His eyes are raking over the crowd as people rise and start to meander toward us. My gut is torn up, knotted and roiling. It doesn't feel right. It feels like chaos. These are our vetted guests, already disarmed and personally hand-selected by Ronan to attend, in order to make the biggest impact and send the loudest message to Sebastian and the city at large.

"It doesn’t feel right," I tell him under my breath. "Something feels wrong." Isla clings to my side still, though Maeve is here trying to get her to take the flowers. My heart is pounding, hairs on my arms standing on end. I should feel safe here to relax and celebrate, but I can't. I have a horrible feeling something is going to happen.

Lochlan is one of the first to greet me after Ronan, who stands stoically with me, scanning the crowd. "What is it?" Loch asks, and I shake my head.

"Something isn't right," I tell them both. "Loch, watch her. Keep her here by the fountain and don't let her out of your sight. Ro, we need to check the gate. I just have a bad feeling." Peeling Isla's arms from around my waist, I press a kiss to her temple. "Stay with him, alright? I'll be right back."

Isla nods at me, biting her lip. Her father approaches her, and I know here in the middle of this crowd, with her father and my brother watching her, Isla will be safe. Ro and I walk away, weaving under the tent between men who are setting up tables, rearranging the rows of chairs around them to transform the ceremony into the wedding feast. I have to check the gate and make sure Sebastian O’Reilly isn't around here.

"We've double checked all of the security in the last hour, Declan. This strange obsession that something will go wrong today is all in your head." Ronan is only humoring me because he understands the weight of what just transpired. We all understand it and soon, the whole city will be transformed by it.

"We can't be too safe. You know once things start rolling out in the city, we'll make new enemies." The "new enemies" we make aren't my concern. Somewhere along the line, this became less about defending my own honor and more about safeguarding the only thing in this life that makes it worth staying. If Isla is here, I can stick it out. We can have a good life together, and maybe one day, if she's still adamant that it has to be this way, we can find a path on our own in a safe way.

"Fair enough," he says, "but even without the O'Connor girl, we have what we need now." Ronan's callous statement enrages me. I almost snap and strike him, but I control myself, choosing to stand in his path and not allow him to move forward as I stare him down.

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