by Elle Kennedy
Bailey looked curious. “What’s his type, then?”
“Fast and loose,” Doherty piped up, and the men chortled again.
“What was the name of that red-haired bird you were seeing back in the day?” O’Neill asked. “Pearl? Penny?”
Sean stifled a sigh. “Peggy.”
A cacophony of hoots erupted all around him.
“Ah, Peggy,” Quinn drawled. “Lovely girl. Great arse on that one.” He waggled his eyebrows at Bailey. “She drove our boy Sean crazy.”
Bailey smiled. “Yeah?”
“Oh ya. Flirted with anyone with a co—” Quinn stopped as if remembering he was in the presence of a lady. “The lads, ah, she flirted with all the lads. Only did it because she knew it peeved Seansy right off.”
“And he’d beat the piss out of anyone who flirted back,” O’Neill said with a snort.
Sean felt Bailey stiffen in his lap, but he didn’t defend himself against the claim. He knew she thought he was reckless and violent, but hell, what else was a man supposed to do when someone was hitting on his girl? Shake their hand? Colin Reilly had taught his boys to solve their problems with their fists, and that was one Irish tradition Sean didn’t mind upholding every now and then.
“How long were you and Peggy together?” Bailey asked, her body relaxing as laughter continued to echo around them.
Sean shrugged. “Three years, on and off.”
“Really? I can’t imagine you in a long-term relationship.”
“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, luv.” He couldn’t resist leaning in to nuzzle her neck. She didn’t stiffen this time, but he heard her breath hitch. “I’m looking forward to showing you all of it.”
More hoots broke out, turning to catcalls when Sean gave in to temptation and kissed her. As his lips brushed Bailey’s, Quinn poked him in the ribs.
“Get a room, lad. You’re making the rest of us jealous.”
Sean reluctantly withdrew his mouth, but he kept one arm solidly around her waist, stroking her arm as Quinn focused his attention on Bailey.
“So you’re American, eh? Where from?”
“Virginia. But I haven’t lived there in years. My family traveled a lot when I was growing up.”
The revelation put Sean on alert. It was impossible to know if she was feeding them a story or telling the truth. For all he knew she’d created an entire fictional life to prepare for the role of Sean Reilly’s Submissive Girlfriend, but he’d detected a chord of truth just now.
“Is your family still around?” Quinn asked.
She shook her head. Then corrected herself by nodding. “Well, my mom is. But she’s in a nursing home.”
Her voice quavered, and Sean knew she was thinking about the man Flannery had sent to her mother’s facility. He’d heard her on the phone earlier making arrangements to transfer her mother, but when he’d asked for an update, she’d simply said that it was taking time.
Next to him, Quinn frowned. “How old is your ma? You don’t look nearly old enough to have a mother in a nursing home.”
“Ah, no. She’s not there because she’s old.” Bailey visibly swallowed. “She’s got early-onset Alzheimer’s.”
The mood at the table sobered. “I’m sorry to hear that,” Quinn said gruffly.
“Thank you. It’s been . . . tough.”
She was definitely telling the truth. Sean could see it in her eyes, and he snatched up the meager details she’d offered like a prospector who’d discovered nuggets of gold in a creek bed. It was bloody impossible to pry any details from this woman—in fact, he was kind of insulted that she’d willingly handed them out like business cards to a group of strangers, when he had to work so hard to gain even a glimpse of insight.
The conversation was interrupted when the front door swung open, and every head turned as Rabbit and Cillian entered the pub.
Rabbit greeted his crew with a nod before shifting his brown eyes to Sean. “Seansy,” he barked. “Need to have a word with you.”
“All right.” He gently moved Bailey off his lap, hesitating as he met her wary gray eyes. “Stay out here, luv. The lads will keep you company.”
He was damn reluctant to leave her, but Quinn shot him a reassuring smile. “I’ll take care of the lass.” The older man pulled Bailey down beside him and threw an arm around her shoulders. “I’ll even make sure O’Neill doesn’t steal her away while you’re gone.”
The butt of Quinn’s joke was quick to protest. “Hey! I never poach other men’s girls.”
Quinn snorted. “Ya? ’Cause I know three lads who might disagree with that.”
Sean left the men to their raucous laughter and followed Rabbit and Cillian toward the rear corridor. With Rabbit walking ahead of them, Cillian took the opportunity to give Sean a hard look, and Sean could practically hear the man’s silent order to back him up.
But . . . back him up on what?
What the hell were those two up to?
A minute later, the three of them settled around the table. It reminded Sean of all the times he’d seen his father sitting in this very chair. When he and Ollie were kids, they would hang out at the pool table while the men talked in hushed voices, discussing whatever dangerous plans needed to be discussed. Now he was the one at the table, which felt so bloody wrong and yet so bloody right at the same time. Figure that out.
Rabbit got down to business, his gaze flickering with displeasure. “Cillian here thinks I’ve gone soft.”
Sean hid his surprise, not daring to glance at Flannery’s “trusted observer.” Instead he focused on Rabbit. “Is that so?”
“What do you think?” Rabbit’s voice was deceptively calm. “Have I gone soft?”
He took a second to formulate his answer. “Well, I don’t know about soft, but I do think you might be losing sight of what’s important.”
“What the feck is that supposed to mean?”
“It means five of your men were shot down in a hail of bullets so you could have some leverage over Flannery.” Sean folded his hands on the splintered tabletop. “The way I remember it, your people used to die for Ireland. Not for personal bullshit.”
Rabbit’s nostrils flared. “It’s all connected, son. We get rid of Flannery, we rid ourselves of a threat to our country.” The man waved a dismissive hand, his go-to response when someone disagreed with him. “But we’re not here to discuss my brother-in-law.”
Sean found it interesting that Rabbit still considered Flannery family, even though his sister’s death had effectively severed the link between them. Then again, family ties meant something to the Irish. Even when you hated that family.
“We’re here to discuss the cause. You know, the one you claim I’m neglecting,” Rabbit said scornfully. “Cillian thinks we need to remind our fellow countrymen that the Irish Dagger still wields the same power it always has.”
“And how does Cillian suggest we do that?” He continued to ignore the man next to him, feeling Kelly’s frown boring into his face.
“How else?” Cillian spoke up. “Intimidation. We need to show them that the Dagger is still in control.”
“And who exactly is them?” Sean asked dryly.
Rabbit’s voice lowered, as if he was worried someone might overhear. Which was ridiculous because he swept the room for bugs every hour and kept a man posted outside the door. “We’re going to hit a pub near the college.”
Alarm shot through him. “The college? As in, civilian targets? Are you insane?” In the decades since the organization’s formation, the Irish Dagger had never targeted innocents, and Sean was horrified to hear they were even entertaining the idea.
“The political science faculty practically lives at that pub,” Rabbit said briskly. “The people who are supposed to be preaching nationalism—”
“What kind of intimidation tactic are you thinking of?” Sean cut in. “IED?”
Cillian nodded. “Car bomb, parked outside the pub.”
“Why Dublin? Why not Bel
fast?”
“North, south, it doesn’t matter anymore. The results will be the same.”
Sean narrowed his eyes. “With a call ahead?”
Rabbit narrowed his eyes right back. “Do we do it any other way?”
Well, at least there was a bright side. For the most part, the IRA avoided Irish casualties at all costs. Their tactics had always been to phone ahead after a bomb was planted—that way, the target area could be evacuated while the terror was still inflicted, showing that the IRA could get to anyone, anywhere and anytime. Unfortunately, many of the splinter groups had chosen to break that golden rule over the years.
Luckily, it looked like the Dagger wasn’t one of them.
“When?” Sean asked.
“Tomorrow afternoon.” Rabbit pursed his lips. “What are your thoughts about this?”
“Does it matter? It sounds like you’ve already made up your mind.”
“I’d still like to know your opinion.”
His opinion? This was a bloody terrible idea. The last thing he wanted to do was instill fear in his own people. For Christ’s sake, the IRA had been a dead cause for decades. He had no clue why people like Rabbit continued to cling to it.
But he’d been ordered to back Cillian up, and although the man wasn’t looking at him, Sean could feel the waves of menace rolling off the other man’s body. The implicit reminder that if he didn’t play ball, Flannery would be very, very upset.
“It might help you placate some of the guys,” Sean relented.
Rabbit spoke with a biting edge. “And why would they need placating?”
“I’m not the only one who’s been wondering if you’ve lost sight of the cause. This’ll show everyone you’re still invested.”
Rabbit mulled that over, then gave a decisive nod. “We go ahead, then.” He scraped his chair back, glancing at Kelly. “You and Reilly will head this up. Bring Quinn into the loop.”
“Where are you going?” Sean asked warily.
“I’ve got other engagements to tend to.” Rabbit didn’t elaborate. “I won’t be back tonight. Make your plans, and then take the night to reconnect with the crew.” A slight smirk lifted his lips. “I’m not the only one they’re questioning, Seansy.”
Shit.
He had no interest in spending his evening planning a bomb threat or hanging out with the crew, but clearly he didn’t have a choice in the matter.
Once Rabbit left, Cillian turned to him with a broad smile. “Nice work. Getting the men to doubt Rabbit’s loyalties? Very smart.”
Kelly waited as if he was expecting a thank-you, but Sean didn’t offer one. He stood abruptly, taking a step to the door. “I’ll grab Quinn, and then I’m driving my girl home. I’ll join you lads after.”
“Any reason your girl can’t handle a motor vehicle by herself?” Cillian scowled. “I don’t have time to wait for you to play chauffeur. I need you here.” A pause. “Our boss needs you here.”
No mistaking which “boss” he referred to—and it sure as hell wasn’t Rabbit.
“I’ll walk her out to the car, then,” Sean muttered. “I’ll be right back.”
He found Bailey at the table next to Quinn, laughing at something Robbie Doyle had just said. The men seemed thoroughly charmed by her, but Sean wasn’t feeling too merry as he reached for her arm.
“Time for you to go,” he told her.
She wrinkled her forehead. “Is everything okay?”
“I have to take care of business.” He nodded at the redheaded man. “Quinn, Kelly’s waiting for you in the back. We’ve got matters to discuss. I’ll join you after I walk my girl out.”
Quinn nodded back.
Sean tried to keep a casual demeanor as he ushered Bailey out of the pub, but the moment they stepped onto the sidewalk, the tension returned, seizing his muscles and triggering Bailey’s frown.
“What’s going on?” she demanded.
“Nothing.” Sarcasm dripped from his next words. “I’m about to spend the night talking intimidation tactics and reconnecting with the boys.”
“Alone?”
“Yes. Alone.”
She shook her head. “I’m not leaving you.”
“You don’t have a choice.” Anger bubbled in his stomach, hardening his tone. “Go back to the flat, Bailey.”
She studied his face intently. “What kind of intimidation tactics?”
He let out a ragged breath. “Rabbit wants us to plant a car bomb near Trinity College.”
“What? And you agreed to it?”
“What fucking choice did I have? Cillian was beside me the whole time and I have to back him up, remember?” He glimpsed the worry in her eyes and sighed. “The explosives won’t go off, luv. The Dagger calls ahead.”
“You mean tips off the Garda about the bomb?”
“It’s the IRA way. The bomb squad shows up and disables the IED before it detonates, and the Dagger proves its point—that nobody is untouchable as long as we’re around.”
“That’s utter bullshit,” she grumbled.
“I’m not saying I support it. Just that you don’t have to worry about innocent people dying, okay?” Impatience rippled through him as he took her arm and guided her to the car. “Go, Bailey. There’s nothing for you to do here.”
“Right. Because you’ve got everything covered, apparently.”
“What the hell do you want from me? I can’t bring my girlfriend to a fucking strategy meeting. That’s not how the Dagger operates.”
Her gray eyes blazed. “Out of curiosity, do you consider all women less than your equal, or is it just me?”
He felt a headache coming on. “This has nothing to do with bloody gender equality. You think I don’t recognize that you’d be an asset in the planning of something like this? I know you would be. But it’s not my call. If they wanted you to stay, I’d let you stay.”
She hit him with a dose of sarcasm. “Oh, you’d let me? How nice. And I call bullshit on that, by the way. You’ve been trying to force me out of town since I got here.”
“Because I wanted to keep you safe!” he shot back. “I wanted to keep you safe for Ollie, damn it. He already lost you once because of me, or at least that’s what I thought—” He stopped abruptly, his temples throbbing even harder.
They couldn’t have this damn argument right now. Someone in the pub might be watching them from the window. Hell, it was bad enough that Macgregor was lurking somewhere nearby, witnessing every second of this.
“Look, I don’t have time to argue with you,” he snapped. “Get the hell out of here, Bailey.”
“Fine, you want me gone? I’m gone.” She flung open the driver’s door, angrier than he’d ever seen her. “I’ll see you later at the flat. Or maybe I won’t. I’m sure you’ll do whatever suits your fancy with no regard for your girlfriend, right, Sean?”
He gritted his teeth. “I’ll be back later tonight.”
Then he turned on his heel and walked back into the pub.
Chapter 16
“I absolutely hate him.” Bailey irritably slid into the booth and snatched the drink menu. She needed a stiff drink, pronto. Otherwise she would lose her temper again, and she couldn’t afford to do that in the middle of a crowded pub.
In the seat across from her, Isabel looked like she was fighting a smile. “No, you don’t. You don’t hate people, remember? You get along with everyone.”
“Sean’s the exception to the rule,” she muttered. “He’s a damn Neanderthal, Iz.”
“Ha! And my husband isn’t?” Isabel’s bright green eyes sparkled as she ran a hand through her red hair, and if Bailey hadn’t known the woman for years, she might actually believe she was having afternoon drinks with her new Irish gal pal, “Izzy O’Malley.”
The waiter came by, raising a bushy eyebrow when both women ordered bourbon, as if he’d expected to scribble down daiquiri or appletini on his little notepad. Well, screw that. Bailey had never ordered a sissy drink in her life.
�
��Trust me,” Isabel added after the waiter left. “Trevor gets crazy overprotective when I’m on a job.”
“But you’re married to him. He’s allowed to be overprotective. Sean and I aren’t even together.”
“Uh-huh. So then you haven’t slept with him again?”
“Nope.”
“You used to be an accomplished liar. What happened to that?”
Bailey felt herself blushing. “Fine, I slept with him again. But that doesn’t mean we’re together, and it doesn’t give him the right to control me.”
Was he trying to control her, though? She didn’t even know anymore. Didn’t know if Sean was truly on some kind of power trip, or if she was simply scrambling to find excuses to keep him at arm’s length.
I wanted to keep you safe for Ollie, damn it. He already lost you once because of me.
His aggravated words buzzed in her mind, but she had no idea what to make of them. Did he honestly expect her to believe that his overprotective bullshit stemmed from his desire to protect his brother? She knew the twins were close, but that sounded like an excuse to her. Sean’s way of justifying his alpha assholeness.
“He does get a little . . . intense when you’re around.” Isabel sounded perplexed. “I mean, I’ve known Sean for years. He’s a raging flirt. Total ladies’ man, and that killer smile of his? Watch out. But he’s different with you. He’s . . .”
“A barbarian,” she said darkly.
Isabel laughed. “Yeah, I guess that’s a good way to describe it—you do bring out his savage side.”
“Lucky me.”
“But that just tells me he’s fallen hard.”
Bailey smothered her alarm. “He hasn’t fallen for me. I’m just a conquest for him, and five years of rejection has made him determined to break me.”
A groove dug into Isabel’s forehead. “Sean doesn’t break people.”
“Yes, he does. You think you know him, Iz, but I know him better.” The confession slipped out before she could stop it. “I tailed him for two months earlier this year.”
Isabel’s jaw dropped. “You did? Why?”