Red. (Den of Mercenaries #1)(40)

And if not for that, she could tell just from the way Rourke was looking that it hadn’t been normal protocol.

He hadn’t asked about protection, money, or favors. No, he asked about her, wanted to know everything about her. Then, in a matter of minutes, he had asked her on a date.

That night, she declined.

The next night, she declined.

And nearly every day after when he came around, making himself at home in her pub during her peak hours, he continued to try and wear her down, and the longer she went without giving him an answer, the more annoyed he became, as though a girl had never denied him.

The next time the doors to her pub opened, she had expected Liam once again, ready to give his usual spiel, but when she saw Rourke, she got a foul feeling in her gut. He hadn’t spoken a word to her all night except for when he ordered a beer that he didn’t touch.

People had quickly begun skipping out, wanting to get away from him and what his presence might mean. And later, once they were alone, he made his point clear by letting her know that if she didn’t accept his brother’s invitation, he wouldn’t be able to save her anymore.

So the next time Liam asked, though she had wanted to say no, she agreed and went to dinner with him. Since that first ‘date,’ they’d been out a few times more, and for a while, he hadn’t been pressuring her to take things any further.

“You’re a different kind of girl,” he had said one night. “I’ll do right by you.”

Liam had proved not to be so bad, keeping to his word about giving her time to get used to him in her life, but his patience was wearing thin. That much she could tell.

For that reason, she found herself in a basement where three women and two men were sitting at a lengthy table in their underwear, shoveling small amounts of cocaine into baggies. It didn’t matter what she saw, not when there was no one to tell—Liam had shown her that. The police couldn’t help, not when a number of them lined their pockets with dirty money.

Usually, Liam didn’t bring her along when he had to do something with his brother, but he’d begun demanding more time of her, and if that meant she came to his family’s place of business when he asked, so be it. And like those times before, Reagan did her best to tune them out, not particularly caring what was being discussed, but for some reason tonight, she couldn’t quite lose herself in her own head, instead listening in on the hushed conversation across the room.

“What’s he planning?” Liam asked of his brother.

“Fuck if I know,” Rourke replied, his voice louder than it had been before. “Who does know what that sonofabitch ever has planned.”

The ‘son-of-a-bitch’ they were referring to was Declan Caellach Flanagan, or Caellach to those that knew him. His family had been well known around those parts for many years, and not many had minded their presence. But years ago, Delan’s father had mysteriously disappeared, and when he’d been unable to find answers, Declan lost it.

He’d gone on a binder, letting the world share in his grief, but after a short time, he too had disappeared, leaving room for the likes of the McCarthy brothers to move in and take over the territory.

But, not for the first time, Liam was discussing Declan, and from how it sounded to Reagan, he wasn’t taking too kindly to the McCarthy presence, and that only meant one thing.

Declan was going to make a move on them, and soon.

The sound of a chair scraping across the floor sounded in the room. “You need—”

Before Rourke could get another word in, Liam cut him off. “Easy, brother. How about we discuss this later when soft ears aren’t around, yeah?”

Reagan blinked, realizing belatedly that Liam was referring to her. But maybe it was all well that she didn’t react to his words straight-away lest he believe she was listening.

More importantly, maybe now that he was shutting down conversation, she could hopefully get to the pub now.

Smoothing a hand over the front of his shirt, always impeccably dressed, unlike his older brother. Rourke was a touch less flashy with his attire, wearing jeans that looked expensive, a plain t-shirt beneath a coat with wool lining the interior, plus a pair of work boots. Around his neck was a delicate gold chain that was fashioned of links all the way around.

Liam, on the other hand, wore suits predominantly. There was not a moment where Liam didn’t attempt to look his very best. It was just one of many things that he took control over.

Smiling proudly, as though they were merely waiting in his living room as opposed to a drug haven, Liam wrapped a hand around hers, drawing her into his arms even as she resisted. She barely caught Rourke’s nod in her direction before Liam was sweeping her out the door and into the night air that was muggy with the promise of rain.

When they were both in his car, he smiled in her direction. “Would you like to get dinner?”

“I can’t. Jimmy’s at the pub by himself, remember? I was supposed to be there two hours ago…” But I’m here…was added silently.

He frowned, focusing on the road as he pulled off. “I didn’t think the meeting would take as long as it had—you know how it is with Rourke. Besides, you do too much at that place anyway. Your brother can handle himself. Girl like you shouldn’t be doing so much.”

Reagan looked away and rolled her eyes. Sometimes she forgot just how misogynistic Liam could be. He had made his stance clear about what he expected from her. But she wan’t giving up her dream, no matter what he said.