Page 13 of Three Irish Kings
She doesn’t respond, just grins up at me.
Damn her beautiful eyes. She was pretty enough in the pictures my father sent me, but in person, it’s a whole different ball game.
Maggie Sullivan is a real bombshell, and that tracks with what information we’ve gathered about her.
I’ve never been more sure that we have the right person.
My eyes find Cillian’s green eyes. They look almost sheer, sometimes.
He’s nursing a glass of tequila on the rocks.
Cillian is a dangerous man.
Maybe more dangerous than me, which is saying something.
Being heir to the Hayes clan when my father is unwell is... an experience.
After a couple of moments, I give Cillian a little nod.
Cillian nods as he stands, heading for the empty elevator.
I clear my throat, looking down into my glass before chugging it. “I think everyone’s moving to an afterparty.”
“Maybe I’ll see you there?”
“Maybe.”
I hail the bartender to pay my tab, and the traitor who introduced herself as Isla walks toward the elevator.
Cillian’s already in there, waiting.
It’s time.
The bartender walks over. “Yes, sir, what can I get you?”
“The tab, please.” Now that Maggie left, it’s time to become memorable. I need everyone to remember me sitting here after she left. So, I yell, “Hey, can you add another whiskey neat to that tab before you close it, please?”
He sets both the whiskey and the tab beside me when he is done.
Time for the final axe in the plan.
“Here, keep the change.”
The tip of five hundred bucks will make sure he remembers me and gives me an alibi if I need one.
I could punch him in the face, make a scene for all to see, but the truth is I’m a bit exhausted of all this, so for now, I’ll stick with playing drunk.
Getting up from my seat, I make sure to put enough strength on my legs to send it back, crashing to the floor, as I pretend to slip and let my glass crash and shatter all around.
“Oops! I guess that was one too many for me.”
I stumble forward and feign a few almost falls to make sure all eyes stay on me.
God, will this evernotbe my life? Will I ever escape this prison?
“Do you need me to escort you to the elevator?” the security guard asks.
He looks at me and gulps. He recognizes me, I suppose.
