Irish Whiskey Rules: Kavanaugh Crime Family by Jo McCall

Author:Jo McCall [McCall, Jo]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2022-05-28T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

This was it. This was my chance to find Lina. If Matthias was right, she might be at that auction, and if she wasn’t, maybe I could find something that could lead me to her.

“I’ll do it.”

“Like hell you will.” Kiernan scowled at me, but the look he shot the Russian mobster was far worse. If looks could kill, Ava would be a widow.

“This isn’t your choice.” I wasn’t going to let him bully me into standing down. I needed this. I’d been searching for Lina for months, putting my own life and career on hold. There was no way in hell I was going to abandon my friend. “I want to find my friend, and if that means putting on a show, I’ll do it.”

“You don’t know what the hell yer getting yerself in to, Bailey,” he argued. “This isn’t you walking in on my arm draped in silk and diamonds. They’ll expect you to be my slave. To act like my slave. You’ll hafta wear a collar. You won’t be able to even look at me or touch me. I can’t acknowledge you like a person, because you won’t be one while we’re down there.”

My throat bobbed; a cold spike of anxiety shot through me at his words, but I couldn’t let that stop me. “I can do it,” I assured him, my head held high. “I was amazing in drama class. Could have been the next Angelina Jolie.”

“Oh?” Kiernan sneered. “Then I guess everything will be all right then, lass. Hell, why didn’t you say so in the first place? Angelina Jolie, maybe I should get yer autograph and show it around to the fucking perverts wantin’ to buy yer pussy.”

The slap echoed across the room.

It took me a second to register the stinging in my hand. There was no doubt a look of shocked horror on my face—probably a replica of The Scream by Edward Munich. From the look on Kiernan’s face, it wouldn’t have really mattered because I was going to be just as dead here soon.

“Kiernan, I—” There wasn’t time for an apology before he threw back his chair as he stood, the sound somehow louder. More ominous than it had been earlier in the evening when his anger hadn’t been directed at me.

“Son…” Kiernan’s heated gaze turned to his father, who awarded him a brief nod before taking a calm sip of his drink. “Do what you must.”

What?

What the hell did that mean?

I didn’t have the chance to ask. One moment, I was sitting in my seat, and the next, he’d thrown me over his shoulder like a neanderthal carrying his club.

“What are you doing?” The way his shoulder dug into my stomach had the words coming out as more of a grunt. “Kiernan, put me down.”

My hands beat uselessly at his back as he lugged me up the steps, two at a time. He was too impatient for the elevator. “You can’t do this.” I growled in frustration before snapping, “Kiernan.”

“I love it when you say my name, mo fraochÚn beag.

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