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Declan laughs. “You’re assuming we don’t have backup, too. How dumb do you think we are?”
“I opt not to answer that when you’ve got guns pointed at me.”
A throaty whisper of laughter behind me brings my attention back to my brunette distraction.
Did she just laugh at my joke with guns pointed at us? How surprisingly refreshing. Someone finally thinks I’m funny.
“Aiden? Did your teams run into any problems when you came in?”
“Not at all, boss. We ended their driver and disabled the two they placed on the rooftops to snipe the back door. Slick as snot.”
I give the four brothers a moment to let that sink in. “Now, Ryan, Declan, and I spent much of our youth in detention together, so I know they’re shite at math, but maybe Darcy and Niall can grasp that thirteen against four is a really feckin’ expensive McGuire funeral.”
“And bad for business, too, boss,” Aiden adds.
“Aye, fair point, mate. It would wipe your family out despite the alliances your da has been making outside the city.”
The surprise on their faces when I mention that tells me Owen was on to something. “Oh, you didn’t think I knew about that? Aye, I do. And about your plans to oust us out of the city. You see, there’s nothing that goes on in my city that I don’t know about. So, be smart now, lads. Lower your guns and take your dead back over the bridge before anyone else gets hurt.”
I honestly think they might listen to reason until Declan gets a cocky look in his eyes and grins. “Fuck that. It’s on, brothers.”
Chaos erupts around us, and the air fills with the deafening sound of gunshots. Grady and two Dublin Devils burst through the door, and I grab Laine’s wrist and yank her into the corridor.
There’s no time for explanations, no luxury of easing her fears. Besides, my apologies won’t mean a lick if she’s bleeding out on the pub floor.
Feck. Even the thought of that makes me crazy.
With me out of the way, my men will move in, and the takedown will begin in earnest. More of my men are racing inside from the back door and cut off access to the hallway as we pass.
There’s no chance we’ll be followed as long as any of them are still breathing.
“Is the back clear?” I shout, not bothering to slow down.
“Clear, boss,” Connor replies.
That’s all I needed to hear.
Extending my palm, I hit the push bar on the back exit and the door swings open. After a brief pause to check the sightlines, I race out into the night with my American beauty curled into my side.
CHAPTER NINE
Laine
“Let go of me.” I elbow Tag as hard as I can to make him let go of my arm, but his grip is like an iron vice. The breathy grunt he lets off is at least some consolation, but it doesn’t bring me any freedom.
In a running crouch with his arm over my shoulder and his hand gripping the back of my neck, he pulls me past the men with guns in the staff corridor and toward the back exit. “I’m sorry, luv. This isn’t how I intended for our night to go.”
Yeah, me either.
My mind is spinning in a semi-daze and though I want to protest with everything I’ve got, I also want to put as much distance between me and the echo of gunshots as I can.
Twice in two days? Seriously?
Thankfully, I’m wearing sensible shoes for racing from a killing spree, but that won’t save me from twisting an ankle and falling on my face if I can’t straighten up and regain my freedom.
My heart pounds in my chest, echoing the rhythm of my rapid footsteps, but once he slams the push bar on the back door and the mist of the night air hits me, my cognitive train gets back on its rails.
“Seriously, Tag. Let go of me.” I make another attempt to break away from him and get nowhere.
