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When the old man gave a nod, the goon released Harper, and she came over to the table. She gave me, then Dane a quick glance, and I grabbed her arm and pulled her roughly into my side. She squeaked at the move, but there was no way in fucking hell she wasn’t going to be glued to me until we all got out of this place.
“Mr. O’Sullivan, I’m Harper Larson. Your caterer from the event last night.”
He gave a slight nod of greeting, but waited. So did I. Dane’s hands clenched the edge of the table, his knuckles white.
She licked her lips. “I think there’s been a misunderstanding, and I think everything that’s happened can be forgotten.”
O’Sullivan arched one silvery red brow. “Oh?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“And how is that to come about?” he asked.
“You should ask your wife. She’s expecting your call.”
The brow went up higher. One second, then another. I held my breath as I waited to see what the guy was going to do. I felt the way Harper held her breath, too. While her voice was steady, I knew she was afraid as fuck.
If O’Sullivan didn’t kill us, I was going to kill her. At least take her over my knee and spank her ass for scaring me like this. She should be in the penthouse. Safe.
“She said to tell you that when you fed Charlie this morning, you left kibble all over the floor, and that you would be in trouble when you got home. You should call her, Sir.”
The man’s blue eyes narrowed.
Harper held up a hand. “Her words, Sir, not mine.”
Oh fuck. Dog kibble? We were going to die.
O’Sullivan pulled out his cell from the pocket in his suit jacket, pressed a button, put the phone to his ear. “Yes, dear.”
There was complete silence in the bar as O’Sullivan listened to his wife. Not even the bartender pretended to be working.
After a minute—that woman talked for a long time—he said, “Yes, dear,” again and disconnected the call.
He looked at Harper, studying her closely. “Miss Larson, I have to give you a lot of credit. Coming here as you did. While many people have negotiated with me for all kinds of business related issues, not one of them provided such a...persuasive argument. Even your men, here.” O’Sullivan pointed at Dane’s phone on the table. “I have never once had an adversary go through my wife.”
Oh shit. We were going to die.
“A smart move. Well played. Because my wife likes you and found the party last night a smashing success—her words, not mine. Since my wife is happy, you are under my protection.”
What…
“You have the rehearsal dinner in eight weeks—”
The…
“And the wedding reception after that. I look forward to seeing what you serve. I will text you the location of an alternate industrial kitchen to use until yours has been cleaned up. Have a good day.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Gentlemen.” He gave a nod and waved his hand in the air.
The bartender snapped to it and began to build a Guinness.
Dane glanced up at me, then stood.
I nodded in return, grabbed my handgun off the counter, and walked to the door, not letting go of Harper as we went. I didn’t stop walking until we were down the block and around the corner. Then I veered to the side of a building and pressed Harper into it.
“What the fuck were you thinking?” I couldn’t keep the snarl from my voice. My heart was beating out of my chest, and I was sweating. Jesus fuck, she could have been killed right then and there, a bullet to the forehead.
