Devil's Heart
Page 4
Flynn ran to the kitchen and discovered the staff was out back probably on another cigarette break. She hastily retrieved a slab of meat from the industrial refrigerator and ran back into the room. Patrick appeared a slightly dizzy as she pressed the raw steak to his eye. She said softly, “This should help.”
Patrick tilted his head up, his good eye searching her face. He placed his hand over hers. His tone somber, “Look, if its money you need—I’ve got it. If you’re in some sort of trouble then we’ll work it out. Just tell me the truth, luv.”
She yanked her hand out of his grasp and spat out in frustration, “It’s not money. I already told you it’s complicated. I...I need to go.” Flynn turned away from him, not before she saw the hurt glistening in his eyes.
Patrick reached for her but she fled from him. “Flynn! Flynn, don’t walk away. Not like this,” he bellowed after her. “Just talk to me, dammit!”
She didn’t dare turn around, didn’t dare speak as she followed James out the door. With every step away from Patrick, she felt a piece of her happiness falling away, one by one, like petals on a flower.
Flynn braced herself as she pushed the door open and stepped into Devil’s Heart. It had been a week since she’d seen Patrick and she realized she owed him an apology, wanted to right the wrong.
Music blasted from the stage as a youthful indie band played their hearts out to appease the enthusiastic fans. She smiled at seeing Colin grab center stage, belting out a song about a small town guy chasing after a city girl who was playing hard to get.
She pushed her way through the dense crowd of patrons and planted herself against the back wall. Flynn peered through the cloud of smoke, across the clinking glasses, over the row of groupies but Patrick was nowhere in sight. After a few minutes, she gave up, not sure she had the nerve to confront him. What could she possibly say once he stood in front of her? How could he forgive her cowardly response to his genuine concern for her?
“What am I really doing here?” she muttered, turning to leave.
She approached the exit when a loud BANG startled her. She could hear the sounds of shoes scuffling before the music cut off in mid-song.
“Whoa, lass. Where do you do think you’re goin’?” the familiar voice boomed loudly over the amplifiers. “That’s right. I’m talking to you, Miss Donovan.” She could detect a note of humor in his tone.
Flynn froze, could feel all eyes fixed on her while the silence stretched on. Except for the thump-thump of her heart against her chest as she opted to turn a deaf ear to the voice that singled her out.
Patrick taunted, “Cat got your tongue? Maybe this will help.” He broke into an off-key version of the Irish Drinking Song:
“Well I stumbled in at 2 AM all drunk and full of smoke. My wife said, ‘I’ve had enough, that’s it I’m sick, get out.’”
Flynn twisted around in time to witness the patrons’ passionate cheers and hoots as they sang along. She had to give Patrick credit for performing his heart out with lack of finesse. He managed to overpower the crowd as he continued singing into the mic.
“So I stumbled down to Kelly’s pub across the edge of town, and told the boys my story and we had another round. Now we drink, and drink and drink...”
Flynn placed her hands on either side of her mouth and yelled, cutting through the awful rendition of the Flogging Molly song. “Enough. Enough! Please stop,” she raised her hands up in defeat.
The patrons watched on with curiosity, their heads turning her way, then back at Patrick, as if they were viewing an intense verbal tennis match.
Patrick winked. “There’s more where that came from, darlin’.”
Dropping her hands to her sides, she asked, “How can I get you to stop?”
Patrick leaned into the mic, getting way too comfortable. “Darlin’, there’s only one way to shut me up.” His seductive brogue sent shivers through her.
Flynn crossed her arms in challenge. “Enlighten me.”
He hopped off the stage and advanced toward her as the crowd parted to allow him access. She stood her ground, not wavering, preparing herself for what choice words he had in store.
Patrick didn’t bother speaking and snaked out his hand to seize her waist. He pulled her hard up against him and demanded, “Kiss me.”
How could she refuse when he was so persuasive? Patrick gave her a smug smile before planting a solid kiss smack on her lips. She sighed, soon clinging to him as she clutched the fabric of his shirt. He kissed her with an unleashed passion that melted away the spectators around them.
Colin’s smooth voice came through the sound system, “That’s what we call an entrance! Now back to the entertainment portion of the program.” He clapped his hands and the band started up, quickly engaging the patrons.
Patrick gave her a hard squeeze before pulling apart. “I supposed you’ve made your decision?”
She nodded, ready to tell him what was in her heart. “I never expected this, I never wanted Ireland. Maybe for a visit but everything I wanted was back at home.”
He threw up his arms. “If you’ve made up your mind, why are you tormenting me? What’s so complicated, Flynn?”
“Look, there’s a record contract waiting for me in L.A. and then there’s you.”
Patrick gave her a flustered look. “Oh, no you don’t. You’re hoppin’ that plane and signing those contracts. I’m not gonna’be the reason you let somethin’ this grand slip through your fingers.”
She groaned in irritation and clutched his face in her hands. “Listen to me. I’m not going.”
He opened his mouth in protest and she silenced him with a kiss. “There’s going to be plenty of contracts in our future.”
Patrick’s eyebrow rose in confusion. “What contracts?”
She blurted, “I’m rich, Patrick!” Her eyes lit up as she watched him try to grasp the words.
“I’ve decided to be your business partner and back you up. I don’t need to be in the States to make great records when I can be doing it here with you.” She beamed as understanding washed over his face.
“You’re rich? How can this be? Were you lyin’ to me all along?” His face was crestfallen.
“I never lied to you, Patrick. Do you believe in fairy tales? I never did until I came to Ireland.” Her hands slid to his chest. “My great aunt brought me here because she’s sick. She wanted to give me the opportunity to claim what rightfully belongs to my family. If I stay, I have to ensure that her home and all her properties will be taken care of. If I refuse, then everything’s lost.” Her voice faded, “Who would have thought, right?”
When she faced him again she was certain she had made the right decision. Patrick wrapped his arms around her. “I don’t care why you’re here. I’m just glad you’re here now.” He picked her up and swung her around until she was giddy with laughter.
Patrick slowed down and planted her easily on the floor. She was breathless with happiness when he addressed her with a stern look. “But you’re going to have to explain everything to me again.”
Flynn let out a squeal when he scooped her up and threw her over his shoulder. He toted her through the cheering crowd, all the way up the stairs to his office. Today, she had never been more eager about the prospect of being interrogated than at this moment, and by this man.
Jax Cassidy followed her dreams to Paris, then Hollywood to pursue a film career but managed to fall in love with penning sexy romances and happy endings. She writes contemporary, paranormal, and historical romances and is also the Co-Founder of Romance Divas, and award winning writer’s website and discussion forum. Jax is also known as one-half of the retired writing team of Cassidy Kent. She is represented by Roberta Brown of the Brown Literary Agency.
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