Dating the Don (Savage Crime Lords #1)

Chapter 19

CHAPTER NINETEEN

MAEVE

F iguring out the territory lines between the Irish mob and the Costa Nostra wasn’t nearly as difficult as some might think. I might not know exactly how to move in these parts, but I have a pretty good feeling that if I show up and start making my presence known, my absentee father is going to take notice. As he’s taken it upon himself to marry off a daughter that he’s never even met, I bet he feels rather entitled to me.

He’s not. He will learn that the hard way if he has to.

I don’t give myself time to think. I most definitely don't give myself enough time to backout of the rash and impulsive decisionI've made. All I know is that I have to go through with this. I'm ready for itto end so I can start the next chapter ofmy life. For so long, I've yearned for peace for my mother's soul, and now the end is in sight. It's so near I can almost taste it.

Into the lion’s den I go.

I took all the money I had saved from my time there, including everything from Cristiano's wallet, and I hailed a taxi. I don't need him following my credit card purchases or, worse, following me before I can put this all behind me.

It would be impossible to accurately say that there’s a visible difference between the Irish territory and Cristiano’s, but I swear that I can feel it the moment that I pass over the line. The taxi stops outside of a small pub and I tip him well. The man gives me a lingering look before pulling off again. Whatever warning or comment he was going to make, he wisely kept to himself.

I tuck my hair behind my ear, making sure that my face is on clear display as I start to walk. There’s supposed to be a brewery restaurant in the heart of their city attached to a farm-to-table style restaurant. I figure that’s my best shot to find my father, or at least somebody that can point me in the right direction.

The walk will be more than enough to give me the courage I need to handle these next steps.

From everything I’ve heard, nobody gets close enough to that restaurant or brewery without an explicit invitation. The kind of place I would normally avoid at all costs if I weren’t in this exact and specific circumstance. Though, I’m not exactly looking forward to it.

Maybe a bit of liquid courage wouldn’t hurt.

I enter the next pub on my way. The scent of stale beer and mixed nuts is nearly smothering. My shoes stick to the floor as I walk toward the bar. I slide a twenty across the counter for whatever the bartender suggests. Only a moment later, a mug of foamy beer nearly the size of my head is sitting in front of me. The man doesn’t give me change and I don’t bother asking. I never did like beer. I can’t imagine a world in which Cristiano drinks a beer like this. No, he would opt for something more refined. Though, it’s hard to imagine him in a bar like this in the first place.

He has to have noticed that I’m missing by now. Right? I can only imagine how furious he’s going to be. Half of me is glad. That’s what he gets for excluding me in the first place. The other half of me, however, wants to find a phone and call him to let him talk me out of this plan.

Perhaps that’s the smarter choice, but I’m already here.

Yet, I find myself sliding off of the bar stool with my beer still untouched when a familiar face steps directly in front of me. I might not know his name, but I would know that mug anywhere. He certainly doesn’t look any worse despite having been shot only a few days ago. My blood chills as my almost kidnapper slides close enough to my body to force me back into the seat I had been abdicating.

I slowly lower back into the barstool and I don’t dare take my eyes off of the man for a single second.

“You haven’t touched your drink,” he says casually, like he had planned for us to meet up here this entire time. He angles his body toward where I’m sitting, his well-muscled thighs on either side of my own, effectively trapping me in place here. “Unless you ordered it hoping I would join you?”

I need to play this carefully. He doesn’t know why I’m here. I need to play my part just right. I have to act surprised to see him. It shouldn’t be hard. I knew that one of them was going to find me sooner or later. I just didn’t know that it was going to be him in particular. I swallow hard, trying to keep my fear at bay. I can’t let him see my worry. Nobody will benefit if I do. I have to stay the course. I owe it to my mother at the very least.

When I say nothing, the man takes it upon himself to continue the conversation.

“We didn’t have the chance to get properly introduced at our last meeting.”

I force a soft smile. “I guess I got a little swept up in the excitement of the evening. You’ll have to forgive my oversight.”

The man smirks as a drink is placed in front of him without him having to actually order anything. Just further proof that I’m in the right place. “With a face like yours, I think I could forgive you just about anything.”

I smile, finding it easier to react now that I know I’m faking. “Charmer.”

“Keiran,” he says, extending his hand to me. “Keiran Doyle.”

I take his hand and shake it firmly. I’m ready to introduce myself, but he holds up a hand to stop me.

“Clearly, I know very well who you are, Miss Sullivan,” Keiran smirks. “And I also know that ring on your finger is going to be replaced by something much better, very soon.”

I glance down at the ring Cristiano bought me. It has started to feel overly natural to wear it, I had almost forgotten it was there.

“I will admit that I think it’s rather cute that you’re still attempting to stick to the traditional ways despite your temporary fiancé being Italian scum,” Keiran continues, his smirk never fading for a single second.

My smile threatens to waiver. “I guess it’s a good thing that I’ve found you, then.”

“Is that what happened? You found me?” Keiran takes a sip of his dark beer and watches me over the brim of the glass. I can’t tell what he’s waiting for. Whether it’s for me to try to bolt or if it’s for somebody else to show up, I can’t tell.

“Well, I would say so,” I pull the beer closer to myself without actually taking a drink. “Does that intimidate you? Having a woman making the moves?”

Keiran leans in closer, his knees closing around mine. I don’t like him. I don’t like the way he’s leaning closer to me but I don’t dare to back away. I can’t allow him to call my bluff like this. “I think you just haven’t experienced a real man before. I can hardly fault you for only having experience around men who have forced you to make the moves.”

His hand drops to my knee and I fight a shudder. I’m beyond grateful for the fact that I opted for pants today.

“All of that will change very soon, that I can promise you. I think you will come to like the fact that when a real man makes a promise to you, he keeps it,” Keiran says as his index finger runs over the curve of my knee.

“Well, then I intend to make you work for it,” I give him a thin-lipped smile and angle my knees away from him.

His smile disappears. I try to shift my legs away from him, but thenice guy facade fades. He jerks my legs back into their original position, placing his entire hand on my knee. Three men behind him, at three different tables, all at once stop what they're doing and stand up. Two of them draw their firearms and hold them idly by their sides as a warning of what they could do if they so choose. I guess they don’t like anything that makes their boss angry.

“I don’t need to work for what’s already mine, Miss Sullivan. But, you will learn your part in all of this soon. Do not worry,” he warns, gesturing for the men to come closer. They are going to take me. There’s no way out of it. This is what I wanted. I just have to keep reminding myself of that little fact. This is a necessary thing. It doesn’t matter how much it scares me.

If Cristiano were here… well, it doesn't matter what he would do. He wanted to exclude me from this, so I’m going to do it myself. These men are going to take me to Doyle and, therefore, to my father. There's no way out of this that spares him from death. I know that now.I’m going to be the one that killshim. I want to watch the life drain from himwhen he tells me what he did to my mother. I can do this. No more engagements. Real or fake. Nobody will treat me like property. I tell myself thatas the men come up behind me and immediately yank me off thestool.

I don’t have to fake my terror as they wrench me sideways and drag me right out of the bar.