Page 63 of Dublin's Danger Dancer

Liam jumps overboard. His splash is met by a spray of bullets. A bright light is trained on to the river but his nowhere to be seen.

I realise I’m shaking. I’m paralysed against the back of the container and I’m shaking.

“What the hell was that?” Spits Fergus now next to me.

“I didn’t have a clean shot.”

“Bullshite! I saw it Ciara.”

“I didn’t have the shot. And stop with my name.”

“I thought saying your real name might remind you, who’s feckin’ side you’re on. We have lost guards tonight. if you weren’t an undercover, you’d have to explain that to the wife and children of the men and women who just lost their lives, but instead you don’t.”

Anger was tunnelling through my bones along with the damp from the ship.

“How much did we find, boys?” asks Fergus speaking into his radio.

“The largest shipment that’s ever come into Ireland, but we’ve taken significant fire. Eighteen injured and four dead, sir.”

Chapter Sixteen

At home, I quickly change into a red and white lingerie set and put on a short black dress. I roll stockings with seams up the back up my leg and attach them to my garter belt. I put my leathers on top and jump on my bike. My mind is a blur of absolute nothingness as I ride to the O’Shaughnessy mansion.

At the gate, heavily armed men demand I remove my helmet.

“She’s Liam’s girl,” says one, as the gates open and I’m flagged through.

Liam opens the small oak door, patting himself dry with a white Egyptian cotton towel.

I bring my bike to a stop outside.

“Hi gorgeous,” he says as I try not to stumble on my stilettos on the gravel in a mixture of anger and confusion.

Seeing me having difficulties. He walks out to meet me and scoops me up into his arms.

“I can’t tell you how glad I am to see you,” he says.

“You taking a late-night shower?”

“I want to be fresh for you.”

He carries me inside, shutting the door with his behind before carrying me to his side apartment. Once inside, he pushes the door closed and says to his voice recognition, “put the apartment on lockdown”.

Metal shutters storm down against every window. Several locks slide into position in the door behind him and a metal shutter appears from the floor and locks onto the back of the door.

“Now you’ve no way to escape,” he says, smiling wrapping his towel around his lower waist.

“Why are we locked down?” I ask. He creeps towards me slowly.

“So no one can hear your screams,” he says twirling one of my curls around his index finger.

I want to take the knife that I had held between my fingers the first night I had been here. If I had stabbed him then four sets of families would still have their dads.

Instead, I allow him to lift me up and push me against the wall. I open my legs wide inviting him in. Being intimate with him feels like the worst punishment I can inflict upon myself right now.

As he kisses me, I bite his bottom lip hard, thinking of the faces of the children made fatherless.

He pulls back out. Anger coming out of his nostrils. “Take off your clothes,” he demands.

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