Page 4 of Drama Queen

“Give her back,” I sign rapidly, but he just laughs and drags her behind him as he heads towards the exit.

I huff but follow, like an obedient dog. Sometimes, I really wanna gut the guy. I don’t care if he’s the boss, there are times when he can be a right prick. Part of me worries that one day I might actually do it. But not today. I am, however, looking forward to watching Angel re-break his nose. The thought makes me feel a little giddy.

Two

ANGEL

As soon asMaxim enters the house, I know something is wrong. He’s covered in blood and… is that a woman he’s got slung over his shoulder?

“What the hell is going on?” I ask as he hands her off to Nikita. The large brute grins as he slings her over her shoulder.

“I’ll tie her up,” he signs, his grin concerningly wide.

“No. Nope. Not a chance. Tell me what’s happening?” I turn to Maxim. “Why is your nose broken, and why does Nikita look like it’s Christmas?”

Maxim laughs and removes his jacket, chucking it carelessly over the back of the armchair. “Love, Niki is grinning because it might as well be Christmas. And my nose is broken, because she broke it.”

He points to the woman who is hung like a glamourous sack of potatoes over Nikita’s shoulders. I walk over to her and brush her hair back from her face. Recognition hits me and fuck.

Shit. Fuck.Bollocks.

This is bad. Like really bad. Like no way back kind of bad.

“What the fuck have you done, Max?” I screech. “Take her back. Take her back, right the fuck now.”

“Don’t be such a drama queen,” Max says but I can’t take my eyes off the girl, who’s eyes appear to be turning gleeful at every word the stupid man utters. She knows me. And I know her.

“I amnotbeing a drama queen,” I hiss.

Nikita taps my arm, grabbing my attention. “You kind of are.”

I point at the woman. “Do you know who that is?”

“Nope,” Max replies with a nonchalant shrug and Nikita just raises a blonde brow.

Urgh, God save me from ignorant men.

“That is Echo Quinn.” I just get blank faces. Fuck my life. “Only daughter of Rory Quinn, leader of the fucking Irish Mob.”

Nikita snorts before turning and heading to the basement.

I turn to Max who looks at me like I’ve grown a second head.

“Angel, Rory Quinn doesn’t have a daughter.”

“Yes, he does. It’s just not well known.”

Max raises one of his dark eyebrows. “And how do you know she exists?”

I shut my mouth because I know he will definitely not like my answer.

“Angel,” he says, my name a warning.

“Fine,” I say on a sigh. “I may or may not have been intimate with Echo’s brothers and met her when I stayed at their house one summer.”

Max’s face drops. “The fuck?”

“It was years ago, before I knew you.” I’d been about twenty-three and medical school had been kicking my ass, so I took a vacation in the summer and met the identical twins, Conor and Cillian. I’d always had a soft spot for an Irish accent, so I went and spent a summer across the pond in the gorgeous hills and towns of Ireland and bumped into those two in a small pub and spent a rather wild week with them in their country house.

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