Page 42 of Dublin's Danger Dancer

“I’m sorry. I’m being paranoid because of the boxing match, dredging up all the details of Harriet. Losing her. It was nearly as bad as losing my mammy. I have business, but I’ll come by your place afterwards.

My heart skips a beat.

“I need to sleep alone tonight. I’m feeling really queasy after the concussion. And dancing hasn’t helped,” I lie.

“Then let me look after you.”

“It will be very hard for me to sleep next to you. Very hard,” I say.

“Ok. Admir will drive you home.”

“I can make my own way home. I do it every night.”

“Not after you’ve been seen by my side in public, you don’t. And I’ll have to get you set up at the gun range.”

“Gun range?” I ask.

“There’s a permanent target on me and anyone close to me. You need to know how to fire a gun for your own safety.”

I nod wondering how I was going to wrestle my muscles to ignore nearly a decade of weapons training.

“We’ll do it after Spain.”

“Spain?” I ask.

“We are taking a yacht from the south of Spain to Morocco. You can explore the souks, ride a camel, drink mint tea,” he smiled revealing his teeth. And he desired to make me feel at ease.

“I’ll think about it.” I say. Jurisdictional violations running through my mind. If I used it purely to gather intelligence, none of that would be an issue.

After Liam left the club, I’d safely stowed the cash I’ve made, almost €8000, in my backpack. I came back to the bar to say goodbye to Kieran and Eddie and scan the club for Admir.

As I turn, he appears by my side, causing me to jump. “Hi,” he says.

He’s so close to me his thick black beard almost touches my face. His tanned skin has taken on a green glow under the lights and his black mass of curls, one of which falls between his eyebrows, are so greasy it looks like he’s dipped his head in lard.

“Would it be completely out of line If I asked for a private dance before I drive you home?’’ he asks, piercing me with his dark brown eyes.

“Your wife told me she would drive a nail through my eye If I dance for you,” I say, not moving a muscle in my face. “And I’m not sure I’m going to be as effective as a one eyed stripper.”

“Anastasia is dramatic,” he says, sliding closer to me.

“What do you think Liam would do to you?” I ask.

“Who’s going to tell him?” Admir says.

This is an opportunity for me to find out more about the Albanian gang involvement in my sister’s death, murder. I can’t pass it up.

“You know the rules,” I say holding my hand out for money.

He places a €100 bill in my hand and smiles wickedly, licking his lips.

“This gets you three minutes.” I say.

“Then you better make them the best three minutes of my life,” he says, his breath stiff with vodka.

I push my hand into his, repulsed by the feel of his calluses, and say, “Follow me handsome” as I guide us into the booth.

“Can I make a song request?” Admir asks.

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