Page 77 of Dublin Beast

The interior of the SUV is black as the night sky, the only light visible being the heater of Kieran’s cigarette where he sits behind the wheel.

I slide the shifter into park and pop the latch for the boot. “I’ll move the bags over. You get out of the rain.”

“All right.” Harper gives me a soft smile, pulls her door handle, and rolls out of the car.

Something’s off with her. She barely said two words the whole way here and quiet isn’t a word I would usually use to describe her.

As I wipe down the inside of the car on the passenger’s side, her mood shift irritates me more than it should. If things go my way, I’m closing in on avenging my father. That is where my head needs to be at.

The fact that I’m running through the things I said and did since the hotel incites a bone-deep irritation. We sure the fuck aren’t dating, so I don’t owe her anything.

Honestly, the way she leapt into my arms and wrapped herself around me, flooded me with the simmering anger I’ve been suffering for years.

Usually, I ease it with sex or violence.

Considering sex is what seems to have muddied the waters, I’m thinking it would be smarter to beat someone bloody.

Hopefully, it’s Siobhan.

Once I’m sure the dash, seats, door, and handle will never be tied back to Harper, I get out to start transferring our bags to the back of the Range Rover.

When I raise the back door of the SUV, Kieran meets my gaze in the rearview mirror. “Welcome back.”

“Did I miss anything?”

“Not a fucking thing.”

“Grand. Then we’ll figure out our next steps once I return the car.”

The stolen car needs to go back with no signs of tampering to not raise flags. I’m not trying to add Grand Theft Auto to the list of charges law enforcement would love to pin on me.

I ignore the icy rain pelting down on the back of my leather jacket as I transfer the luggage, and the bags of equipment Kieran bought on his shopping spree. Kieran comes out to lend a hand, his movements efficient but tight.

He tilt’s his head toward Harper sitting in the back seat. “All good?”

The fuck if I know.She’s still riding the edge of whatever’s been bugging her since the hotel. I grunt and give him a shrug. “I’ll drop the car and be back.”

Kieran nods and jogs to get back into the vehicle.

Harper twists back to look at me. There’s something in her eyes—curiosity, worry—not sure.

I slam the SUV’s hatch shut.

I slide back into the stolen car and pull out onto the road, tires crunching over loose gravel. The vehicle is quiet except for the ticking of the engine cooling and the sound of my own thoughts, loud and relentless.

Maybe bringing Harper into this was a mistake.

She’s brave—no doubt—but she’s not trained for this and not used to falling on the wrong side of the law. If me stealing a car shut her down, what will me coming home with bits of skull and gray matter on my boots do to her?

And why am I even wondering? It’s stupid. We barely know each other. It’s just proximity. Shared danger. Sexual tension. Chemistry.

But the way she leapt into my arms and wrapped herself around me felt…

I pull the car into the quiet lot beside the dealership and park it where I found it. After giving the interior a quick wipe down, I go back to the sales booth, let myself in, and leave the keys hanging on the little hook where I found them.

I don’t linger. Just lock the door from the inside, slip out, and vanish into the shadows. Once I’m sure I’m out of any possible surveillance camera feed, I double back and beat feet back to the motel.

Odds are, no one will ever know I borrowed the car. And if they notice the discrepancy of milage, hopefully it’ll be days or weeks down the line and I’ll be back in Dublin and long gone.

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