Page 64 of The Irish Arrangement

I wouldn’t ever apologize to avenge the slightest wrong on her behalf.

“Let’s go.” I took her hand, glad that she didn’t shy away from my touch or try to cower from me. She gripped my fingers and held on tightly, almost as though she needed the security of my touch.

Dammit. I wish we never came. Staying at home, with her, was always the better option.

We exited the ballroom, but before we reached the car in the lot, a pair of men approached.

“Not now. For fuck’s sake, never. Peter, fuck off.”

The Boyle didn’t listen. He blocked my exit. His buddy, that same imbecile who’d accused my fighters of cheating, stood next to him and further prevented me and Cara from leaving. Any second now, my men would follow. I’d tasked Ian to speak with him, but someone was always behind me, never that far on my tail. That was simply part of being a leader. I was seldom caught alone.

“I won’t fuck off,” Peter argued. “I heard a little interesting story recently. Something about your trying to claim a right to my family’s wealth.”

I scowled, keeping Cara close. “What the fuck would I want with your dirty money? The Sullivans have always had more than you could ever dream of.”

“Riches and bitches, huh?” his friend joked, looking at Cara.

“Shut up,” she sneered.

“Yeah,” Peter said, puffing up his chest like he was some kind of a badass. “I was told you were trying to help yourself to a taste of our name, our influence, marrying someone related to a Boyle.”

“What?” Cara’s confusion leaked out with her one-word question. She looked from me to him, and with that distraction, I wasn’t quick enough to pull my gun out before Peter held up his.

“Shut the fuck up,” I said as I lifted my gun from its holster. “That’s nothing but a goddamn rumor.”

“I thought so at first too,” the second man said.

I cocked my gun and aimed it at him. He was only asking for it, pointing his at me. “Yeah, and where’d you hear that? Who told you that rumor?” I demanded. Dad had told me that Keira started up that falsehood, but speaking with another friend tonight, when I was pulled aside that one and only time when Cara somehow got hurt, I learned that it wasn’t her.

“Shane Murray?” I guessed, filling it in for him.

Peter nodded, not lowering his gun.

“Yeah,” the other man said. “Murray.” He smiled at Cara. “Your daddy.” As he reached out to touch her arm, she batted his hand away.

“Don’t touch me,” she warned, angling closer to me.

I thrust my gun at him.

“Found yourself a feisty one, eh?” he taunted.

“Hold on. Hold on.” Peter swatted at his buddy, shutting him up. “Why’d Shane make up that shit in the first place?”

“Because he owes me a lot of money. He owes Donal Sullivan a lot of money. It seems that he still doesn’t want to pay up.”

The crony laughed. “What, you take his daughter and wanna come for his money too?”

Peter grimaced, elbowing him. “Shut up.”

“Murray owed my father before my wife was even born. His debts go way back, and yes, I’m going to fucking collect on it.”

Peter seemed unconvinced. “Then why would he make up shit about your wife being related to a Boyle?”

“I’m not,” Cara insisted, still clueless to what was going on.

“Through your whore of a mother,” the other man said. “Rumor was that your whoring mama was related to a Boyle.”

“Don’t call her a whore!”

---