Page 14 of Pints & Potions

“Of course, I am.” He visually scanned the area for witnesses. Satisfied they were alone, he advanced toward her. “You were at both my pub and the inn.”

Piper stepped backward and raised her hand as if to ward him off.

“Now darlin’, stay calm. I mean ya no harm.” Cian smiled in what he thought was a reassuring way, thickening his accent to put her at ease.

Obviously, her definition of reassuring was much different from his. Her screech of disbelief hit an octave so high, beasts all over the island were likely howling in protest. Before he could take a step closer, she'd bent and hefted a good-sized rock.

Unable not to, he snorted. "What do you think you can do with that wee thing?"

The widening of her eyes was his only warning before the rock sailed in his direction. Though he twisted, the stone still made contact. The impact to his shoulder caused him to grunt.

"Now why'd you do that? Weren't we having a civilized discussion?" he hollered.

Two more stones were hurled in rapid succession. One grazed his cheek, and he touched where the skin stung.

The damn she-devil had marked him!

"Now look what you’ve done. You’re feckin’ mad, you are!” He held out his blood-coated fingers. "You marred me good looks.”

Another outraged cry was followed by more rocks. Each impact felt like a brick the closer he got to her. Knocking the final projectile from her hand, he straightened to his full height of six-two and glared down into her wide, frightened eyes. The sight had him softening.

"Piper, darlin’, I can—umphf!" She kneed him in his boys, bringing him low. She'd just killed the future O'Malley line with one well-aimed shot; he was sure of it. Water streamed from his eyes—he refused to acknowledge them as tears because O’Malleys were made of stronger stuff—and he cupped himself. He’d read somewhere that pressure overrode pain.

It didn’t.

At least not in his case.

“I swear to the Almighty that I’d be throwing you over the cliff after that bugger if I was the murderin’ bastard you believe me to be. I—umphf!”

The metallic taste of blood filled his mouth where Piper kicked him.

Okay,nowhe was damned furious. With a roundhouse kick ofthatnature, the woman wasn’t an innocent miss. She had to be here as backup to his earlier assassin; her intent, of course, to finish him off.

Cian dove for her legs, but she danced away and assumed an expert’s fighting stance. She was smart to take a stand because she couldn’t outrun him. Her single other option was to teleport, but she’d risk greater exposure if she did, and witches knew not to reveal their abilities to mortals.

Left with no choice, he prepared to fight.

Less than five minutes later,Cian rifled through Piper’s messenger bag to find her identification. When he opened her passport, he grimaced. Had he been a betting man, he’d have wagered, with her rod-stiffening good looks, she couldn’t take a bad picture. He’d have lost a hefty sum.

He frowned down at her still form.

Perhaps she’d pulled the face on purpose in a fool’s attempt to trick facial-recognition software? But why go to that length if she could magically travel and avoid detection altogether?

Wasting no more time, he whipped out his smartphone and switched the sim card with another he kept in a hidden compartment of his wallet. When he got a signal, he dialed the number he had memorized.

“Cian! How’s it hanging, man?”

“Ryker, man, I’ve had a bit o’ an incident here at home, and I need you to run an identity check. Do you think you could help an old friend out?”

“I thought you were retired?”

“True, and so did I, to be sure.” He gave Ryker Gillespie a brief rundown of the incident with the assassin before finishing with, “Now, I have another person who may or may not be involved.”

“Want me to run facial recognition?”

Cian contemplated the question for all of three seconds. “I thought maybe you could look up her passport in the database, but a full background check wouldn’t be remiss.”

“Give me the number.”

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