Page 43 of My Irish Mafia King

"Hide," I roar, rushing her to the bedroom. "Don't open the door for anybody except me!"

I grab my pistol and run through the apartment, my heart pounding as I rush out the back exit of the bakery, looking up and down the street. The gunfire comes from the other side of the building.

I skirt along the wall, peering around the edge. Two masked men fire from the open windows of a dark car, presumably at Ronan. I can hear him firing back. I take careful aim and pull the trigger, dropping the motherfucker.

The other one yelps and quickly darts away from the window, reversing toward the end of the road. I sprint onto the street, aiming my gun, firing two more shots. But the prick spins and drives around the corner.

I keep my head on a swivel, disregarding the pounding in my heart, ignoring the ugly thoughts of what will happen if they have backup and they get to me before I can spirit Lucy away to safety.

Ronan’s front window is shattered, flecks of red all over it. I rush around to the driver’s seat, pulling it open. He’s holding his arm, and his left cheek is torn open where a bullet hit him.

“I’m sorry,” he says, his words slurred. “The bastards took me by surprise.”

“I’m getting you to the goddamn hospital,” I snarl. “I promise, Ronan, whoever did this, they’re fuckingdead.”

“Killian,” he whispers. “Get your woman. The fuckers… the flames…”

“Theflames?”

I turn, looking at the bakery. A fire is ripping through the counter, spreading quickly. I run as fast as I can.

Seventeen

LUCY

Ihold Clover in one hand, clutched to my chest. In my other hand, I hold a knife. No idea if I’ll be able to use it if anybody other than Killian rushes up those stairs. The mood changed so freaking fast. One second my body was aching with all the possibilities of what we were about to do, and the next fear gripped me, making the worst-case scenario seem all too possible.

“Lucy,” Killian says, hammering his fist on the door. “We need to leave. Now. Bring Clover.”

I carry her to the door, opening it, still with the knife in my hand. He looks at it with pride clear in his eyes.

“What’s happening?” I ask.

“Follow me.”

He turns and runs down the stairs. I run after him, dropping the knife when I almost fall. The last thing I want to do is slip with a blade in my hand and hurt Clover. Or myself. Killian leads me out the back entrance and around to the front.

I gasp when I see the flickering orange flames lighting up the front. “The bakery!” I yell.

“I know,” Killian roars. “I’m sorry, Lucy, but we have to go. Now. They could come back. I can’t risk you. Get in the car.”

He pushes me into the car. Ronan is in the back seat, moaning as he clutches his arm, a streak of red across his face. Killian places his gun in his waistband and hops in the car. Clover whines and buries her face against my chest.

I stare at the flickering flames, struggling to accept this is real. But I can feel the heat from here. The fire is spreading quickly.

Killian starts the engine and pulls the car away, driving down the streets.

“Thosebastards,” he bellows, slamming his hand against the steering wheel. “Ronan, you okay back there?”

“Hanging… in…”

“He’s losing a lot of blood,” I say, placing Clover in the footwell and taking off my hoodie. I hand it to Ronan in the back seat. “Use this to keep pressure on your arm.”

He smiles shakily. “Thanks… you’re lucky Killian was here. I… fucked… up.”

I snap my fingers. “Hey, stay awake. Ronan, look at me.”

“I’m here,” he murmurs.

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