Bargain with the Irish Devil

Chapter 11

CHAPTER 11

D eclan

The hostess is smiling wide. “Mr. Kelly, we’re glad to see you again. I have the table you requested.”

Miranda is glaring at the woman. She doesn’t like a woman smiling at me any more than I want a man smiling at her. Good.

When my hand goes down to the small of her back to guide her through therestaurant,my cock jumps at the electricity. She doesn’t, only leans into my body and fuck my cock is back to aching.

“Your usual whiskey tonight, sir?” The hostess is focused on me and misses the annoyance flickering on Miranda’s face.

“No, thank you. I’m driving tonight.” I look to Miranda. “I don’t want to take a chance with her safety. A club soda with lime, please.”

Her beautiful face lights up. “You’re so sweet.” The smile disappears when she turns to the hostess. “Since I’m not driving, a French 75, please.”

This time, the hostess doesn’t miss a thing. Her lips purse. “The lucky girl of the month. I’ll put the order in for you.”

Miranda’s face falls. I don’t think twice before I’m up. Her hand is on my arm. “Don’t. Whatever you were going to do, it’s not worth it.”

Sliding my arm from under her hand, I capture it in mine. I press a kiss to the back of it, holding her tight when she tries to escape. “You are worth far more than you think you are. I won’t allow you or anyone else to believe differently. I’m not out with the women I fucked because I didn’t care about what they did outside my bed. She’s a bitter bitch. And she’s going to get what she put out, that’s all.”

Miranda

This man is dangerous. Not because of the whole gangster or mafia or whatever the hell it is. Because he’s so charming, he makes me forget all the other things.

He didn’t listen when I said I didn’t want an appetizer, ordering shrimp in garlic and butter sauce with crispy bread, and crab cakes for us to share. It felt oddly intimate the way he put a few of each on a plate and encouraged me to enjoy it before threatening to feed it to me.

With Michael, he watched everything I ate and commented if he thought it was fatty or asked if I was sure I wanted it. Declan only seems to care if I like it or if I have enough of something .

There’s no judgment when I order another French 75 or when the waiter recommends a glass of wine with the porterhouse I order. Although he does tell the waiter it will only be one glass.

I open my mouth to argue, hating the idea of being limited by anyone, even if I’m already feeling the effect of the second glass.

“When I take you to bed tonight, I don’t want your senses blunted in the slightest.” The calm assured way he said it, shuts me up. Even though I want to kick him under the table as the waiter tries not to smile.

I get the porterhouse, and he orders the lamb chops. I’ve never had lamb chops before. “Do you want to try it? It’s excellent.”

Curious, yet embarrassed, I shrug. “I?—”

Without another word, he slices a bite and offers it to me. I want to shake my head and make an excuse, but I’m trapped in sapphire waves beckoning me into the water. Unable to break the connection, I open my mouth. He slides it into my mouth with a flare of fire in his eyes.

“Do you like that?” The words are husky, low, only for my ears.

Wet heat floods my core as I taste it on my tongue, allowing the fork to slide out. A glass shatters too close, yanking us both out of the moment. Face flaming, I don’t know how I don’t choke on the bite. It’s good, so good a hum comes from me as I lick my lips to get the slightest speck of flavor that might be left behind.

“Jesus, woman, the shit you do to me without even trying,” Declan murmurs as he swallows his water.

An odd sensation of pride fills me. I’m used to men looking through me, even before I met Michael. Being fat in college was painful. If I was lucky, they looked through me, but more commonly, when it came to stupid college boys and the one in high school, they taunted and bullied me. I’ve heard the moos, the oinks, and been called fat a thousand different ways. It was even worse when they were interested in me and urged me to lose weight because I could be so pretty if I just lost fifty pounds.

Yet this gorgeous man finds me sexy exactly as I am. Is lusting over my body, cellulite and all.

I finally manage to swallow. “Delicious.”

He shakes his head. “It’s good, but your cunny tasted better.”

“Declan.” I glance around to see if anyone heard him.

All he does is wink at me as he chuckles.

Since we’ve already discussed the boring general things, he wanted to know my favorite restaurants in the city and what I liked at each place.

“I’m impressed. You managed to finish your wine at the same time as your meal. This indicates a very controlled and careful personality. Are you going to allow yourself dessert, I wonder?”

It’s so freaking annoying how easily he reads me. I shake my head. “No dessert for me.”

The waiter is back to ask about dessert or if we want anything else. “We’ll have a selection of mini tarts. And another two crab cakes for a late-night snack. She loved them.”

“I said no dessert. I’m not eating them.” I warn him.

He rolls his eyes. “I love your body, it’s sexy as fuck. You’re going to forget about how many calories are in what you had tonight and enjoy a tart. ”

“Did you come into the world bossy, or is it because of what you do?” I wonder aloud.

His grin is wicked, with his dimples deep. “I’m told it was from the womb. Do not be complaining when deep down you like it.”

“Excuse me? I don’t like it.”

Laughing, he shakes his head. “Did you come out of the womb a liar? Is it built into your DNA, like with your brother? It turns you wet as hell. It’s nothing to be ashamed about, nor is it uncommon. For too long you had to take care of others, to be the responsible one. When someone doesn’t give you a choice—as long as it’s not about only getting what they want—you want to give up to them. Not much different from the restraints waiting for you.”

I want to tell him he’s wrong. I want to tell him there’s no way in hell I’ll willingly let him tie me up. But I can’t. “I thought Jung wasn’t one for you Irish?”

“Allowances are made from time to time.” He grins.

Setting down a large platter that contained several different tiny tarts, the waiter grins at me. “They’re delicious.”

The idea of eating them seemed absurd. There were two of each: a lemon tart, a fruit tart, a chocolate tart, and a cheesecake tart with a thin strawberry on top. “They’re too pretty to eat.”

“Something so pretty should not go unappreciated.” His eyes are on my lips.

I give in and reach for the chocolate tart. It is a creamy, delicately sweet velvet dream of chocolate. Licking my lips, I watch his jaw clench.

An alert comes from his phone, breaking the moment, and I’m not sure if I’m glad or not. His whole face changes .

“What’s the matter?”

His sigh is heavy. “We have to go. Now.”

A hand goes up for the waiter. “The check and tarts to go immediately. Let the valet know.”

He nods. “Yes, sir.”

Declan is typing out a response to the text. “I’m sorry, love. Colm is on his way. He’ll get you home.”

The waiter is back, and Declan barely glances at the bill. He pulls a money clip from his pocket, peeling off five one-hundred-dollar bills, and drops them on the table.

By the time we walk out of the restaurant, hiscar is outside, as is Colm. Colm has the rear passenger door open for me. Without a word or look my way, Declan gets into his car and disappears.

“Ms. Beckett.” Colm catches my attention from staring after Declan.

I nod and get into the car. I’m not going to think about what’s going on. Even if it’s obviously something. Is it something bad? Will he be okay?

Closing my eyes, I tell myself I’m grateful for the reminder of who he is.

But I’m not.

Declan

“I don’t know where Sara is. Go home to your wife and children and forget the girl.” I lie to Tommy without blinking.

“Don’t you tell me what to do! I’m older in this than you. My shop cleans the money for this.”

Rolling my eyes, “Yeah, as does James’s place, Ryan’s place, and Graham’s place. You aren’t special. Just because you’re hopped up on coke to give you the courage you need to confront me doesn’t make you special. I didn’t ask to run this. I was placed here, and I’m the one in charge. If you don’t like it, take it up with theold men. What you won’t do is come into my pub and act a fucking fool.”

I don’t blame my men calling me to handle Tommy’s outburst and throwing of glasses around the place. Since they were soldiers only, they weren’t allowed to do more than defend themselves—without guns. “Lay off the fucking coke. You’re embarrassing yourself and us.”

Enraged, he throws the whiskey glass he was drinking from at me. I duck, and it hits the wall.

Fuck this. Grabbing him by his neck, I slam his head into my desk satisfied at the crack that splits the air. Anger has me, and I let loose, slamming his head into the desk again. This time, blood sprays from broken skin.

Throwing him away from me, pissed at the blood on me. I grab my pocket square and wipe my face.

My office door opens to James. “What the fuck is going on?”

“He came into the pub throwing glasses and screaming at staff and our customers. He thinks I know where Sara is. If you don’t deal with him, I will.” I warn him.

James looks down at where Tommy is trying to get off the floor. “Get on with you. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph all this over a woman. You’re a disgrace. I cannot believe you’re putting Kate through this.”

Finally, Tommy makes it to his feet—swaying where he stands. “He did something to Sara. She wouldn’t disappear like this. Her phone is off. I can’t track her. She’s my woman, uncle. Tell him to tell me where she is.”

I meet James’s eyes. The warning is clear. Tommy is close to death. James shakes his head. I get it. I do, but this isn’t working. “Tommy, Declan did nothing to the girl. You need to clean yourself up and remember who the fuck you are. This is unacceptable. Come on, let’s get you cleaned up. You’re bleeding all over the damn place.”

Tommy pushes off the floor. When James attempts to take him by the arm, Tommy shakes him off. “Fuck you all. You’re all against me.”

Weaving like a punch drunk, Tommy is out of my office.

“Where the hell were you? Kenny said he called you when Tommy firstcame in almost a half hour ago.”

He won’t meet my eyes. “I didn’t get the call, no service. I was at the cemetery. It was Rose’s day today.”

Rose was his wife. She died giving birth forever ago. He never married and visited her grave often.

There’s a knock at my office door. “Yeah.”

Kenny sticks his head inside. “Dec, Seamus’s daughter, Clare, is asking to speak to you. Are you here?”

Sonofabitch. “Yeah. You go after him and try to talk some sense into him.”

No arguing, James follows Kenny out of the room .

I toss some papers over the blood on my desk. Clare’s knock is timid.

“Come in.”

Clare is as timid as her knock. “Mr. Kelly, I’m sorry to bother you. It’s just…my father said if I ever neededanything,I should come to you first.”

“Of course, Clare. Have a seat. How can I help you?”

“My father is missing. I heard tell that he came to see you for something. I was hoping you knew where he is.”

I nod. “I’m sorry, Clare. I did speak with Seamus. It’s been more than a week ago now. Your sister got into some trouble. He asked me to look into it for him. I said I would, no problem at all. I haven’t spoken to him since as I have no news on your sister. When he left, he seemed worried about your sister. But fine.”

Her face falls, and she blinks at the tears welling in her eyes.

“Any other day, I would encourage you to give him time, and I’m sure he’ll come home on his own. But your sister was into something very bad, Clare. I’m sorry, but it sounds like your father wasn’t willing to wait for me to look into it, so he took things into his own hands. I’ll have my men look for him, but… I don’t have high hopes.” I sigh.

She gives into tears. I get up to sit beside her, offering the handkerchief in my pocket. Taking it, she attempts to stem her tears. “I don’t know what to do. Should I go to the police?”

“Normally, I would say no. But if it’s as bad as I fear, yes. With the police report, it will allow you to handle the property he left behind. ”

The tears become deep sobs. I pat her back. “There now, darlin’. Your da was a good man. Time comes for us all.”

Throwing her arms around me, she sobs until she soaks my shirt. James thought I made the call to kill Seamuseasily. I didn’t. I never have. I knew Clare would come to me. I would have to see tears in her eyes. Perhaps she would be brave enough to accuse me of knowing what happened to her father—maybe even figuring out I ordered his death.

Clare won’t care that her father broke one of the few rules we have. None of that would matter to her. For her, the loss of her father would be unforgivable. So my penance is holding her while she cries. To feel hersmallbody tremble with sobs.

I take Clare to the local precinct myself. Sitting with her as she gives the information. I’m relieved when she doesn’t mention him coming to see me. She’s a good girl that way. Since she’s already there, she files another for Coleen.

As I knew they would, the cops aren’t interested. They shrug and give their card for when either one shows up. Clare looks at me with tears in her eyes all over again.

Taking her home, she cries silent tears. I managed to get her up to the apartment with a promise if she should need anything, to call me with my card. Unlike the card the detective gave her, she puts it on her fridge.

I’m almost out the door when her phone rings, causing her to jump. Her hand goes to my arm to stay me. I wait as she answers with her eyes up at me—the hope in her eyes bright. Only for her to sigh.

Dropping her hand from my arm, she shakes her head. “No, Margaret, I’m sorry. I can’t come in tonight. I’m supposed to be off tonight, and I need the time off.”

Sighing, she turns away from me. “Because I need the time off. That’s why. I told you I’m not interested in overtime. Margaret, I have to go. Goodnight.”

“Sorry about that.” She shrugs. “I’m a nurse over at the ER down the block. They are constantly trying to cut hours and then begging for us to come when they realize they actually need us. Every other month, I swear I’m going to apply to another hospital for something nice and quiet like pediatrics, and I never do. Thank you for your help tonight. My father told me you were a good man. He wasn’t wrong.”