Page 3 of Stolen Rebel

“Don’t even think about running. There’s nowhere to go. Now be a good girl, and go and tell your man over there that you’re quitting.”

She licks her lips, another swallow drawing my eye. I’d kissed that neck a hundred times. Now I’m having trouble stopping myself from taking a knife to it, slicing her open, and watching as her life drains from her.

“Why would I do that?” she whispers.

“Because you’re coming back to Ireland with me.”

She shakes her head. “You’ve got the wrong girl.”

I draw her hand toward me, pressing a kiss to her palm. She visibly shudders. I repulse her. Good. That plays directly into my hands.

“We both know that’s a lie.”

“It isn’t. I swear, on my life.”

“Your word isn’t worth the shite on my shoe. You’re mine now. Stop fighting the inevitable. It’s a waste of energy, and trust me, you’re going to need all the energy you can get to survive what I have planned.”

A whimper spills out of her. “And what is that?”

My mouth twists into something dark and malicious. “Vengeance.”

Chapter 2

ROWAN

Flashes of shadows and distorted faces assault my pretend sleep, making my already taut muscles ache. But I can’t open my eyes. I can’t stare into the beautiful, hate-filled dark brown irises of my first love. The only man I’ve ever loved.

Liam Mahoney.

I need time. Time to think, to breathe, to figure out what version of me survives this. Looking at him means questions. Questions mean answers. And answers will get people killed.

The fake me keeps her breathing slow and shallow. The real me wants to sit up and demand that he let me go. My hands stay loose at my sides, even as every instinct screams to fight.

I don’t know what level of “Mad Dog” we’re dealing with today, but I can imagine he’s pretty pissed to have stumbled upon me on his travels. I can’t believe I meekly left the pub with him after he threatened to kill every person in there unless I told my boss I was sick and left, but the Liam I remember didn’t make idle threats. I can’t imagine this older, harder, bitter person has suddenly discovered his empathy bone.

My character, Erin, isn’t cut out to handle the lethal edge of the mafia mobster with kid gloves. To be honest, I’m not sure Rowan is either. She’d probably have already thrown a punch at his perfect fucking jaw by now.

My heart damn near stopped when I turned and found him standing at the bar. I thought I kept my shit together pretty well, but Liam didn’t buy it. He didn’t buy my name, my confusion, and he certainly didn’t buy the idea that I’m not the woman he’s probably been searching for these last five years.

Five years. It sounds like a long time, but when you never stay anywhere longer than six to twelve months, it goes by in a flash.

Fuck. I need to get back. To the bar, to my life. To Brian. After what I saw, Brian helped me get into the witness protection program, and I relied on him for everything. I missed my old life, desperately, but in the end, I had no choice but to say goodbye. To familiarity, to Ireland. To Liam.

Brian and I have been in a relationship for the past eighteen months, if you could call it that. It was never a grand romance, more like a contract signed in my own blood for my safety. Brian likes to play the part of the devoted boyfriend when he’s around, but since his promotion to the Joint Agency Task Force, he’s spent more time in Dublin than with me in London. I don’t mind the distance. In fact, I crave it. It’s easier to be grateful to a savior when you don’t have to wake up next to him every morning.

I’ve been in London for three months, moving here after Brian decided my last place had been compromised, and if he thinks it’s not safe for me, he’ll make me move… again.

Reset protocol. Fucking ballache is what it is. Not as big a ballache as his boss seems to be. I’ve heard her a few times in the background when I’m on the phone to him for check-ins. She seems even more highly strung than he is. I thought cops were supposed to be calm, measured. Brian is the complete opposite. Highly strung, demanding. Angry a lot of the time, like the world has pissed on his cornflakes once too often.

The driver clears his throat, dragging my thoughts away from my Brian problem to my more immediate—still smells fucking delicious—problem, “Mad Dog” Mahoney.

There’s only three of us in the car. Me, the driver, and Liam, who is bristling beside me. As soon as I sat my arse on the seat, the door locks activated, trapping me inside.

No amount of looking out the window reveals if he’s got another carload of his goons behind us, but I’d bet considering the shock on his face when our eyes met over the bar, he wasn’t expecting to bump into me, so maybe not.

Liam shifts his weight on the back seat of the bulletproof and not-moving SUV. I close my eyes and concentrate on my breathing. The “Rebel” Liam knew would already be fighting, but I can’t afford to let that woman out. That fighting spirit he once loved surges through my blood, but I need him to believe that I’m not that fearsome girl he once knew.

It’s a fool’s errand, but I have to keep it up. His life, and mine, depend on it.