Savage Hearts (Queens & Monsters #3)(8)

“I would never.”

He tries to pretend innocence but totally fails. I smack him on the shoulder.

“Ow! There’s no need for violence, lass! What a rabid wee badger!”

Now he’s laughing even harder, the jerk. I mutter, “I’ll shove a rabid wee badger right up your butt, mister.”

His shoulders are shaking, his lips are pressed together, his eyes are bright, and I’m going to clobber him.

Except I’m not, because at that moment I spot Sloane emerging from the huge wooden front doors of the house. She’s followed by a man who makes my mouth drop open in shock.

Tall and broad-shouldered, with a Mick Jagger swagger, he’s got hair as black as midnight, eyes as blue as cobalt, and the sly, cocky grin of a pirate king.

The man is so beautiful, the devil himself would be jealous.

My voice comes out strangled. “That’s the fiancé?”

Spider sounds proud when he answers. “Aye. The one and only Declan O’Donnell.”

Declan O’Donnell.

Sweet Jesus, even his name is hot. He makes my last boyfriend look like Shrek.

As soon as this vacation is over, I’m getting on a plane headed straight for Ireland.

When the SUV pulls to a stop, Declan opens the back door for me before the engine is even off. I hop out and am immediately taken by his height. I have to crane my neck to look up at him. It makes his beauty even more impressive.

“Riley,” he says. “At last we meet. Your sister has told me so much about you.”

His voice is deep, his smile is brilliant, and my estrogen levels are surging.

Then, just to totally cross all the wires in my brain, he pulls me into a big bear hug, lifting me right off my feet in the process.

I wonder if my sister will mind when I start calling her fiancé Daddy?

When Declan sets me back onto my feet, I look at Sloane. She’s standing a few feet away, watching us with a hesitant smile.

She says softly, “Hey, Smalls.”

As always, she looks incredible. Perfect hair, perfect face, perfect body. My gorgeous older sister, fearless lion, effortless flirt, consumer of men’s souls.

Life has always been easy for her. Even in her “awkward” teenage emo phase, she was the sun everyone else revolved around. She’s never not been stunning.

Unlike me, who looks like one of the flying monkeys from The Wizard of Oz. At least according to her.

I say, “Hey, Hollywood. Thanks for inviting me. Your man is a toad, and this place is a dump.”

“Wait until you see your bedroom.”

“Let me guess. You put me in the attic with the ghosts?”

“No, we put you in the basement so you wouldn’t scare the ghosts.”

“Appreciate it, hooker.”

“No problem, troll.”

We smile at each other. I can tell Declan is disturbed by this exchange, which makes me think he doesn’t have a sister.

Then I forget all about his siblings or lack thereof because he picks me up and throws me over his shoulder.

He throws me over his shoulder!

I scream in delight then start to cackle like a madwoman.

An upside down Sloane folds her arms over her chest and shakes her head in disapproval. “You’ll make her throw up, honey.”

“Are you kidding?” I shout, staring at Declan’s ass, which is eye level and magnificent. “This is awesome! Declan, you have my permission to proceed!”

Declan chuckles, Sloane rolls her eyes, and I kick my feet in sheer happiness.

It’s a good thing I packed enough of my favorite candy for this trip, because I might never leave.





4





Mal





I’m about to pull the trigger and put a bullet in Declan’s head when a female steps out of the car.

Through the crystal-clear magnification of the rifle’s powerful scope, I take her in with one swift assessment.

Young and slight. Mousy blondish hair pulled into a sloppy ponytail. Baggy gray sweatpants and flip-flops. Eyeglasses and an ill-fitting sweatshirt.

Something about her appearance suggests she’s homeless.

Or careless, at least. Her clothing is wrinkled. Her hair is scraggly. The way the sweatpants hang from her hips suggests malnourishment.

Perhaps Declan is adopting a refugee.

I watch with growing irritation as he embraces the slovenly waif. If she’d only get out of the way, I could get on with it. I’ve been crouched in this crumbling church belfry for hours already.

Sweat is pouring down my neck. My thighs are starting to cramp. The air reeks of mold and mouse droppings, intensified by the sweltering heat.

I can’t wait to get back to Moscow. To the cold and the darkness, far away from this tropical hell hole.

Everything is so bright here. So colorful. So cheerful.

I hate it.

The woman standing off to one side of Declan and the new arrival is Sloane. I recognize her from the picture Kazimir gave me. She’s tall, curvy, and unmistakable, watching the new girl with hesitancy.

Dismissing her, I turn my attention back to Declan.

He sets the waif back onto her feet, but I still don’t have a clear shot. She’s standing too close to him. Then he picks her up and…

I move my face away from the scope, blink to clear my vision, then squint into the scope again.