Page 12 of Forbidden Want

“I’ve been dealing with guys like McDade my whole life. I might be old enough to be your dad, but I ain’t passed it yet.”

“Guess I can always tell him you’re senile or something.”

“Ha ha,” he drawled at her smile. “You kids think you invented this shit.”

She could joke about Strat’s age, but he was sharper than most young guys and still took care of himself. He’d been in his mid-teens when Ford, his eldest kid, was born, still just a kid himself. She wouldn’t count Strat out of any situation. If nothing else, his experience was useful.

They stopped outside Stag. She’d woken up there that morning. Been in and out more times than she’d counted. Until that moment, she’d never been nervous.

“Wait there,” Strat said and got out to come around and open her door.

It wasn’t a limo, so unfortunately, it didn’t come with liquor. She could use a little liquid courage.

On the sidewalk, Strat surprised her by taking her hand. Physical contact wasn’t typically their gig. Maybe it was weird because her own father would never do something so reassuring.

The door opened as they approached and Strat took her inside, tucking her behind him as they passed the stairs she expected them to ascend. But they didn’t. They went down the corridor and into the main club.

Five guys stood dotted around the room. That she could see anyway. Strat stopped just a foot inside, blocking most of her view.

“Always did have more balls than brains, Strat.” A voice she recognized, but not Connel’s. Niall’s. At least that was confirmation he had his life. “Thought you were out of the game. You’re the last person we expected to call.”

“Yeah,” Strat said. “Came here for Ire.”

“You get me. Talk.”

He tugged her hand, pulling her out from behind him. “Who does she get?”

Niall was on a stool at the bar until he saw her.

Sliding off the seat, he widened his stance. “Shit, Strat, you’re suicidal.”

“Just wanna talk.”

“You hit our guys, then kidnap the boss’s girl? What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“He didn’t kidnap me,” she said, and tried to walk, but Strat held her back. “It’s okay.”

“He’s not even here,” Strat said to her. “You talk to Ire, Scamp. Only Ire.”

Because how could she trust his people? She didn’t know Niall at all. She knew Daly better. Which reminded her.

“How’s Daly?” she asked Niall. “Is he okay?”

“In a bad way,” Niall said. “That what you wanted?”

“This wasn’t me,” she said, turning her desperation on Strat because maybe it was her. “Maybe I should leave the country.”

“And go which way?” he asked, a semi-smile tilting his lips. “They have people everywhere.”

True, and that left her with… what? She couldn’t tell Lachlan. Wouldn’t be able to face his disappointment. Somehow that stung more than her father or grandfather’s.

A voice uttering foreign words rose behind the wall at the back of the bar. What was back there? A man. Although she didn’t understand the speech, she recognized the signature.

Connel.

He appeared around the far corner of the bar, approaching behind Niall with a couple more guys following. Niall responded in a similar tongue and retreated behind his boss.

“Talk,” Connel said, his gaze flicking from her to Strat and back. “You’re out of your depth, old timer.”

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