Page 64 of Still Burning

Salem Murphy—eh, correction: it was now Salem Bower—wasn’t fragile. She was hesitant, but when pushed, she survived.

“She found him, brother,” I whispered. “And she’s finally a mom. I hope you’re happy.”

The bikers had surrounded this place with their death wheels.Celebrating the birth of her baby at a bar. It was almost Irish of them. Except this place wasn’t the kind of pub where we’d throw one back. Miami was a dirty city with too many people trying to fit into one place. I preferred my sprawling land and fresh air.

I had satisfied my curiosity, and there was a yacht at port, waiting for me to board. Straightening, I stretched my bad leg out, then bent it at the knee a few times before walking back in the direction of where I’d parked my rental car. It was next door to the bar where I’d tracked Salem.

This time, I’d had to use a little more effort since she no longer had the earrings that Eamon had given her. They’d been left behind in Ireland. I had found them sitting on the mantel below the wedding portrait of them that hung in the master bedroom suites.

Since I preferred to live, I hadn’t expected to see her, just get information on how she was doing. I felt I owed it to my brother. I’d promised to watch over her after all. And in the six months since I’d last seen her, there had been no bothersome agents showing up in Dublin, asking questions. Our operation had been left alone. It had become almost too easy. My fear that she’d talk and I’d have our security shaken had been misplaced.

Seemed she had moved on with her life and left the Murphy family to carry on in peace.

“I think I did my job, brother,” I said quietly. “She’s happy and safe.”

My first few steps were always the most difficult. No longer painful, really just a pain in the arse to get moving forward without stiffening up.

When I was about to step over the marker from one parking lot to the next, a female voice stopped me.

I glanced back, not sure if she’d called out to me or someone else. The view, however, had me turning around. I wasn’t one to ignore a stunner like the blonde walking toward me. Tight,short, faded denim miniskirt that showed off golden-tanned legs that ended in a pair of pale blue cowboy boots. Or was itcowgirlif a female was wearing them? I wasn’t sure.

My gaze slowly traveled back up her body to the formfitting black shirt that didn’t quite meet the waistline of her skirt, giving a peek of her flat, toned stomach. Something glistened at her navel as the sun caught it, and I realized it was a piercing.

When she reached me, she stopped and placed a hand on one hip and flashed dimples with her smile. Perky tits were outlined by her black top, and I read the wordsParadise Brewacross the top.

Is she a waitress at the bar?I wondered.

“How can I help ye?” I asked, wishing I had more time to spend charming this one out of her knickers.

She licked her lips and batted her lashes at me. “An accent. Hot and accented. Where are you from? Scotland?”

I winced.Americans. I wouldn’t hold it against her though.

“Ireland,” I replied. “A superior country and accent.”

She looked slightly embarrassed. “Oops,” she said with a slight shrug. “I, uh, was just bringing out the trash and saw you walking by. I thought you might be lost.”

What a terrible lie, but I couldn’t fault the girl for needing an excuse to talk to me.

I might be able to lure this one into my rental and take her to the yacht with me. It would have to be a quickie, as I wasn’t taking her with me back to Ireland, but she’d be a good ride.

“Not lost, but thanks for yer concern.” I took a step closer to her, and her breasts rose and fell as her breathing picked up. This might be too easy. “I could use some company, if yer available.”

There was a flicker of something in her eyes that caused me to pause. My hackles rose, but before I could define it, the hard muzzle of a gun was pressed into my stomach.

“Jaysus, Mary,” I hissed. Who the feck was this?

“You’re gonna need to add Joseph and the twelve disciples, too, if you don’t get the hell off my property,” she snarled.

It shouldn’t be a turn-on, but it was.

“I was unaware it was private,” I said, wondering if all the waitresses carried guns. That practice would end badly in Ireland for sure.

“It’s a bar. It’s not private. But you were told to stay the fuck off our soil.”

Two things to note: she was angry, and she knew who I was.

“It seems yer at an advantage. Ye know me, but I don’t know ya,” I told her, leaning in closer to smell her hair.

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