Page 124 of Three Irish Kings
I’ve finally stopped crying, feeling numb, and the only time I tear up again is when the bus is pulling away from the station. I keep staring at Dare’s red car, wishing I could just go back home to the cottage.
It’s strange to think the place I was imprisoned in became my home, but that’s what happened.
“Traveling for business or pleasure?”
I blink, turning to see a young man, around my age, sitting across from me.
“Not interested.”
“Bitch,” he whispers under his breath, and I think about how the guys would have punched him in his mouth for that comment.
But I don’t have their protection anymore, so I have to be careful. I assume Liam will tell his father Maggie Sullivan has been taken care of, but I’m sure she played more than one Irish mobster.
I wish I had my laptop, which I could use to do some research and figure out what enemies she might have, but even if I had it, Dare would use my internet usage to ping me.
So, it’s for the best. All of this is for the best. I just have to keep reminding myself of that. “Everything’s going to be okay.”
“What did you say?” the guy across from me asks.
“Not talking to you.”
“Crazy,” he mutters, but I don’t care.
All I care about now is this baby. The only part of my wild summer with three Irish gangsters that I’ll get to keep, other than memories.
I squeeze my eyes shut against the burn of tears.
Don’t let me forget.Please, God, don’t ever let me forget the color of Liam’s eyes. Or the way Cillian half-smiles. Or Dare's easy belly laugh.
I wait for everyone, especially the asshole across from me, to exit the bus before I get off, and it seems that the universe is telling me I made the right decision because there’s a tiny bed and breakfast advertised on a billboard. It’s about a mile down the street, according to the sign, and I decide to hoof it.
Wheezing and breathing hard, I tug open the door to the bed and breakfast, my shoes squelching on the dirty carpet.
It’s not the world’s best place, but I slept in worse places when my mother first left my father.
I look at the receptionist and take off my sunglasses, revealing my eyes, which are probably bloodshot.
“I need a place to stay, and I need to pay cash.”
The man, balding, slightly fat, barks, “A hundred and fifty bucks a night.”
I grit my teeth and hand over the cash. I suspect he’s overcharging me because of my situation, but I don’t really have a choice.
“Gotta have a name for the system.”
“Uh, Chloe… Richards.”
He raises a gray eyebrow but just types it in the computer and hands me a key, an actual key instead of a room card.
Thank God this place accepts cash, because I know if I use a credit card Dare will find me.
I head to the elevator.
“Doesn’t work.”
A voice behind me startles me.
Oh great.
