Page 22 of Guarding Salvation

Bram wanted to argue but knew it would do no good. When Bás made a decision there was no talking him around. He was a determined fucker, which was why he was such a good leader.

“Fine.” He’d have to pray his team decided in his favour because he knew no matter what if they decided to walk away, he wouldn’t be. Irish had been terrified from the very beginning and a person didn’t get that way without a very good reason, and they certainly didn’t run from the mob without a damn good reason or a death wish, family or not.

“Snow, would you go and bring our guest in, and we can hear her story before we decide.”

Snow was up and out the door, clicking it closed softly behind her. She was so light on her feet; it was what made her the best jewel thief in the world, or more accurately, the best retired jewel thief in the world.

“Who brought Aoife in?” He was still getting used to the name on his tongue and it brought forward thoughts of what else he wanted to taste on his tongue, namely her sweet pussy.

“Titan and Snow, while Hurricane and Lotus kept the men busy and made sure they left town.”

“Was Doyle with them or was it just his men?”

“He was there and mad as hell when we showed up. We let him into the room and showed him it was empty. We know Bob had said she’d been gone a week when they beat him, so we went with the same story. Said the girl had run out a week ago and asked where we could find her as she still owed rent.”

“He buy it?”

Lotus shrugged. “Hard to say with a man like that. He doesn’t trust anyone so probably not, but he left, and we shadowed him until he made it to Worcester.”

A knock on the door had him standing quickly and swinging it open, eager to lay eyes on the woman who’d haunted his dreams all week.

He felt his lips curl into a smile at the sight of her, wet hair in a ponytail, face scrubbed clean, she was a knockout without a hint of make-up. A natural beauty who didn’t need any adornments to be the most stunning woman in the room. Her black denim jeans hugged her curves like a second skin and the dark blue jumper moulded her curves like a lover’s hands. Fuck, he was getting aroused just looking at her, so he crossed his arms and leaned against the table to hide his obvious desire.

“Irish, good to see you.”

“Bram?”

“One and the same, sweetheart.”

Her shock was tempered with the flush of pleasure seeing him brought and made him think maybe his attraction and regret over it only being one night hadn’t been one-sided.

Bás stood. “Ms Doyle, please take a seat. My name is Bás, I run this team.”

Aoife looked around before taking a seat next to where he’d been sitting. Bram sat down beside her and angled his body toward her, feeling a primal need to protect her or claim her in some way.

“You know my name?”

“Yes, Ms Doyle, we do but we don’t know why you need our help, so if you could kindly explain it, we’d be grateful.”

Aoife looked around her again and he could see she was overwhelmed by everything and fighting not to show it at any cost. She was wearing another mask, just like the one at the bar and he didn’t like it. He wanted to see the Aoife who’d left scratch marks all down his back.

“Okay. Well, I’m the daughter of Jimmy Doyle who’s the leader of the Irish mafia. Six months ago, I ran away for the fifth time, and I’ll die before I let him take me home.”

Bram saw the truth in her words and wanted to kill Jimmy Doyle with his bare hands for making her feel that way.

Bás leaned back in his chair, his hands resting on the arms. “Tell us why you ran away.”

“My father isn’t a good man, and he’s a terrible father. When I was sixteen, he killed my first boyfriend because he found out we’d had sex. He beat me and put me in the cellar of our home where he’d sometimes torture his enemies and made me listen. I ran away not long after that and he found me the same day. To teach me a lesson he let his men take turns raping me. He said if I was already sullied what did it matter to him.”

Bram thought he might puke at hearing her words, his chest tightened, the hair on his arms standing on end at the calm way she relayed the information. The similarities between her and Lana were minimal but the shame he saw on both of their faces was the same, as was the wall of detachment. What made it worse was the matter-of-fact way she spoke of it, as if it happened to someone else.

“Go on.”

Bram glared at Bás who ignored him.

“This time he promised my hand in marriage to Igor Popov.”

Lotus leaned forward. “The leader of the Russian mob in Miami?”