Irish Kiss

by Sienna Blake

  I just had a few more days to go before I was free of any obligations to my da. I’d stashed away the money he’d paid me, almost ten grand. It was less than what I’d make for the year, but it was enough. Enough for me to move out of my da’s home. To figure out what was next.

  Then maybe Diarmuid wouldn’t be so hesitant to be with me. Really be with me.

  I could stop lying to him.

  I just needed a few more days.

  I texted Diarmuid back.

  Me: I might have to work.

  Diarmuid: I’m coming over there right now to get you. I’m not taking no for an answer.

  I let out a huff. When Diarmuid got like this—all alpha and controlling—there was no denying him.

  I guess I didn’t have to be at the lab right this second. I could go later now that my da had bought me a car.

  Me: Fine.

  In less than ten minutes, Diarmuid texted to let me know he was waiting at our usual corner. Jesus, he must have been speeding or something to get here so fast. He must be excited to see me.

  But when I climbed into the passenger seat of his truck and closed the door behind me, Diarmuid said nothing. He didn’t even look at me, his dark brows pulled down over his eyes.

  “Hey,” I said, all shy.

  It’d been five days since we’d seen each other. He was even more beautiful than I remembered, his shoulder-length hair pulled back in a disheveled ponytail. Even with those dark circles under his eyes as if he’d not been sleeping well. His knuckles on the hand that held the wheel were white, his shoulders pinched up around his ears.

  He accelerated down the street as if we were being chased.

  I slammed back into my seat. Okaaaay.

  He still hadn’t said anything by the time he marched me down his driveway and into his house.

  I dropped onto his living room couch expecting him to do the same. But he didn’t. He paced across the carpet, running his hand through his hair, causing pieces of his locks to fall out of the ponytail.

  I frowned. “What the hell is up with you?”

  He stopped pacing and stared at me as if he didn’t know who I was.

  I let out a huff. “If you’re going to not speak to at all you can send me back home.”

  “You dropped this in my truck.” He threw a crumpled ball of plastic at me.

  I picked it out of my lap and uncrumpled it.

  My heart stopped—literally fucking stopped—in my chest.

  It was the baggie with Diarmuid’s selkie tattoo on it. The one my father gave me. The one I’d lost.

  “I can explain,” tumbled out from my mouth.

  “You better fucking explain.”

  I sucked in air. Never talk to the cops.

  Diarmuid was a cop.

  How the hell could I explain this without giving everything away?

  I looked up at him, my mind whirring. Shining in his eyes was fury, underneath was bitter disappointment.

  He knew.

  He knew everything anyway.

  “I’m sorry,” I said.

  “You’re sorry.”

  “I was going to tell you…”

  He let out a long breath that sounded like a hiss. “Tell me now. I want to hear it from your fucking mouth.”

  I swallowed. He never swore around me unless he was pissed. Diarmuid was extremely pissed.

  “I was helping him. Using my chemistry knowledge to…” I couldn’t say it.

  “Say it.”

  I shook my head.

  “Own what you did, Saoirse.”

  “I helped him cook meth. But just once.”

  Diarmuid let out a pained cry and fisted his hands into his hair.

  My breath went all short, like I was drowning. This was it. This was when I lost Diarmuid forever.

  “And the selkie?”

  “He saw my doodle on a piece of paper of your selkie tattoo.” My voice became quieter and quieter. “He thought it would make a great logo…”

  Something broke inside of Diarmuid, I saw it in his eyes.

  My father had taken something special between Diarmuid and me and he’d tainted it. And it was my fault.

  My own heart shattered and tears welled up in my eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I was going to quit. End of this week, I swear.”

  I pressed my face into my hands. I fucked this up. I fucked up so bad.

  I felt Diarmuid’s presence as he bent down to kneel before me. I wanted to cry out when he slid his hands onto me.

  “Saoirse,” his voice was soft, softer than I deserved, “everyone deserves a second chance. You deserve a second chance.”

  I sniffed and lifted my face to look at Diarmuid. “You really believe that?”

  He brushed my cheeks with his thumb. “Yes.”

  My hopes began to lift. Maybe there was still room in Diarmuid’s heart to forgive me. Maybe in time he could forgive me enough for us to be together?

  “Even if it means making a sacrifice. A…difficult choice.”

  I sniffed. “What does that mean?”

  Diarmuid’s face turned hard, cold. And my hope turned to wood and splintered in my chest.

  “You deserve a second chance,” he repeated. “But your father has run out of chances. I’m sorry, Saoirse. But it’s over for him.”

  My blood froze in my veins, turned brittle and snapped. “What are you talking about?”

  “At this very moment, the Garda are converging on the farm where his operations are being run. He’s being arrested, taken to prison for a very, very long time.”

  No.

  My da.

  My only family left.

  I shoved Diarmuid back, scrambling away from him and over the back of the couch. “What have you done?”

  “I did this for you,” Diarmuid said. “I won’t let him take you down with him.”

  I shook my head over and over. No. Not my da. I just got him back. He was a bad man but he was my da.

  I spun and raced out the front door, grabbing Diarmuid’s truck keys on the side table as I went. I ignored his yelling behind me as I tumbled out the front door.

  I wrenched open the driver’s side door of the truck, slid inside and slammed it shut, locking it behind me. Diarmuid slammed up against the vehicle, banging on the window and demanding I open it.

  Right now, I could barely hear him. I could barely think of anything else other than getting to the station.

  My da.

  He needed me.

  I yanked the seat forward so I could reach the pedals and reversed out of Diarmuid’s driveway, narrowly missing a car that swerved and beeped at me. I jammed it into drive and hit the accelerator. As I drove down the familiar street, I adjusted my rearview mirror so I could see out the back properly. In it I saw Diarmuid running after me, getting smaller and smaller.

  My heart let out a whine. But I kept driving.

  I was breathing heavily, my mind racing as I drove to the station where Diarmuid worked.

  I parked illegally on the footpath and tumbled out of the truck.

  It was a fucking zoo. There were photographers and reporters everywhere, all clamoring to get a piece of my father, who was being led from an armoured van into the station by a group of Gards.

  “Da,” I screamed through the crowd, trying to get to the only family I had left.

  He didn’t hear me.

  He couldn’t hear me over the crowd of animals, all yelling at him, all wanting their pound of flesh. Shut up, shut up everyone.

  “Da,” I screamed again.

  I tried to push my way through the crowd. But it was too thick and too deep. They were vicious animals who pushed back. I got an elbow into the side of my ribs, and I let out a cry as pain throbbed through me.

  My da disappeared inside the station, a man in a suit striding out to address the crowd. He waved his hands for silence.

  “My name is Niall Lynch, and I’m the head of the drug squad here in Limerick.”

  Lights from photogra
phers’ cameras flashed as the crowd pressed in as if to hear him better.

  “I confirm that we have raided a large property twenty minutes north of here that was being used as a drug manufacturing plant. We have arrested Liam Byrne, notorious head of one of the largest drug syndicates in West Ireland.”

  “Mr Lynch. Mr Lynch,” reporters began to yell out. “What gave you the tipoff? What was the value of the drugs that you found? How big was the operation?”

  Mr Lynch waved at the crowd to be silent again.

  “I’ll answer your questions one by one. I’ll start by saying that this win for the people of Ireland is due to the tireless efforts of the drug squad and especially to the information gathered by one of our top people, Garda Diarmuid Brennan, who was doing some recon work for us.”

  No.

  It couldn’t be.

  Diarmuid was working for the drug squad?

  He… He used me.

  He betrayed me.

  “Saoirse!”

  Someone grabbed me from behind and spun me.

  Diarmuid was standing there, holding me. How the hell did he get here so fast? He must have flagged down a vehicle or something.

  “Saoirse, let’s get out of here.”

  “Let go of me.” I tried to yank my arm out of his.

  “Saoirse, dammit.” He grabbed me around the waist, hauling me out of the crowd. “Not here where the reporters can hear you.”

  I let him drag me to his truck, parked up on the sidewalk halfway down the block.

  He pressed me up against the passenger door, his fingers on my face, pushing back my hair, begging with me, pleading with me. “Saoirse listen—”

  “I’m not listening to you. You used me. Everything you said to me was a lie.”

  “You don’t really believe that.” He grabbed my chin, forcing me to look at him. “Look at me. Tell me you don’t think what I feel for you is the realest fucking thing on this planet.”

  I saw the pain there in his eyes, the anguish and the love.

  I tore my eyes away, not wanting to believe, not wanting to let him in again where he could hurt me.

  “Liar! You’re working for the drug squad, that man just fucking said so. Was that why you slept with me? Because you wanted info about my father?”

  “No, Saoirse. Let me explain.”

  “Leave me alone,” I screamed, shoving him back. “I hate you, I fucking hate you.”

  I ran from him, ignoring his calls for me to stop.

  And my heart broke. Not just for my da, who I’d lost, but for the man I thought I loved who had turned on me.

  69

  ____________

  Saoirse

  I ran until I was exhausted and collapsed, scraping my knees on the ground. I had no idea where I was, lying on the sidewalk, gravel biting at my skin.

  I felt a strong pair of arms lifting me, then carrying me like a baby. Diarmuid’s scent covered me like a blanket. I wanted to melt into him and yet I wanted to shove him away. I had energy for neither.

  He must have been following me in his truck as I ran myself to exhaustion. The bastard. Why couldn’t he just leave me alone?

  And yet, a deep part of me sagged with relief at the safety I felt in his arms.

  He placed me gently into the passenger seat of his truck, and he buckled me in with care. I slumped in my seat, no energy left, as he drove me back to my house.

  At my house, he tucked me into bed and kissed my forehead. “I’m not leaving.”

  “Well you’re not sleeping in my bed,” I hissed.

  He flinched and nodded. “I’ll take the couch.”

  He turned the light off and paused at the door, looking like he wanted to say something. He closed the door behind him and my soul cried for him to return, the spot beside me feeling cold and empty.

  I didn’t think I’d ever get to sleep. But somehow, I did.

  The next morning the house was searched thoroughly by a team of Garda. I sat wrapped in my blanket in the living room, Diarmuid standing by watching me like a bodyguard. I couldn’t bring myself to say anything to him. I couldn’t even look at him.

  I found out that my father had been charged with drug possession, manufacturing with intent to distribute.

  I expected to be arrested with every breath. But it never happened.

  The Garda didn’t find anything incriminating at the house. As I knew they wouldn’t. My da made sure he never brought anything back here.

  “What happens now?” I asked one of the Gards, a middle-aged woman with blonde hair tied back in a ponytail. Out of all the guards she was the only woman, and for some reason I felt she mightn’t be as bad as the others.

  “Well, you’re eighteen so you can stay here for now without a guardian. Your father’s lawyer should be by soon to advise you of your rights to the property.”

  “Is this my house?”

  “For all intents and purposes…yes.”

  I pointed to Diarmuid, still standing silently in the corner. “Then get him the fuck out of here. I don’t want him here.”

  Diarmuid straightened, took a step towards me. “Saoirse.”

  “Don’t fucking let him near me,” I screamed, my voice and body shaking. “Traitor. Betrayer.”

  The lady Garda placed a firm hand on Diarmuid’s shoulder. Diarmuid didn’t argue anymore as he left with them.

  And I was left alone.

  Over the next few days, Diarmuid came by several times a day, knocking on my door, begging me to open it, asking if I’d eaten. If I was warm enough.

  I refused to let him in. I refused even to talk back.

  I was a jumble of conflicting pieces, of warring sides, of clashing loyalties.

  The man I loved had let my father get arrested. Now my da was going away for a long time.

  If your father hadn’t been doing the wrong thing…another voice argued.

  Still, logic seems like a distant island when you’re drowning in a sea of pain.

  Today the knock on my door came again as I sat wrapped in that same blanket on the couch, staring at the fireplace.

  Again, I ignored it. It usually took about twenty minutes for Diarmuid to give up.

  “Saoirse?” a male voice called through the door. It wasn’t Diarmuid’s voice. “Open up, honey.”

  I sat up. “Who is it?”

  “Brian O’Leary.”

  Diarmuid’s old JLO officer. I walked slowly to the door, frowning. Did Diarmuid bring Brian this time to help convince me to open up?

  “Diarmuid’s not with me,” Brian said as if he’d read my mind.

  I opened the door. Indeed, it was only Brian who stood on my front step.

  “If you are here to try to convince me—”

  “I’m just here to see how you are,” Brian said, lifting his palms up as if in surrender. “I’m not here for Diarmuid. He doesn’t know I’m here.”

  I eyed Brian suspiciously for a second before I stepped aside and let him in.

  Out of instinct, because it has been bred into every single Irish person, I went straight to the kitchen and put on the kettle to make us tea. I placed the Barry’s teabags in the cups, a timeworn tradition, and poured in the water just off the boil, letting it brew before throwing away the bags.

  I carried a small tray holding our cups, a small pitcher of milk and a bowl of sugar to the living room because everybody was fussy about how they took their tea.

  Brian and I sat opposite each other. I spooned two lumps of sugar into my tea and stirred before pouring in half a finger of milk. I liked my tea sweet and milky.

  “So…” I said.

  Brian took a sip of his tea, a dash of milk with no sugar. “So, how are you?”

  “Grand, yeah.”

  Brian nodded slowly. “How are you really?”

  My shoulders sagged. “I’m angry. I can’t believe he would screw over my father like that.”

  “Your father was doing some illegal things, wasn’t he?”

  I didn�
��t answer, reality a knot in my throat that I couldn’t swallow.

  “From what I hear the drug squad was moving in on his operation anyway. His arrest would have come sooner or later.”

  I fidgeted with my hands on my lap.

  Sooner or later, the devil catches up with you.

  I thought about my mum and my da, and realised how true this was.

  I owed the devil, too.

  “I keep waiting for the Garda to knock down my door, to arrest me for my part in my father’s business,” I said. “I know I deserve it. I just feel like such an idiot.”

  Brian’s eyes widened. “You don’t know, do you, girl?”

  “Know what?”

  Brian set down his tea and leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. “Diarmuid made a deal for you. All of your involvement has been wiped from the record in exchange for him handing over your father. No one is gonna to come and arrest you. You have full immunity. A second chance.”

  A second chance.

  I squeezed my eyes shut as they began to burn with tears. This was what Diarmuid was talking about when he said a second chance. He was trying to tell me what he had done for me. Instead I had been too angry to listen to him. Too certain that he had betrayed me when in fact he had saved me. My father was going down, that much was certain. But Diarmuid made sure that I wasn’t pulled down with him.

  When I opened my eyes Brian was watching me, concern on his face.

  “Oh, Brian, I’ve been so cruel to him. I shut him out.”

  Brian shot me a small smile. “You have, but it’s fixable.”

  “What if it’s too late?”

  He shook his head. “I would have been furious at Diarmuid for getting involved with you if I hadn’t seen you two together. If I didn’t see the way you two looked at each other, so real and…pure. He loves you as much as a man could love a woman. He’d forgive you almost anything. If you’d just ask.”

  That’s when I realised that Diarmuid was the only one who ever loved me truly. He put my needs, my wants over his own.

  Something my father never did.

  70

  ____________

  Diarmuid

  It’d been five days since Saoirse told me to get the fuck out of her house.