Page 7 of Dublin Beast

But she can’t hide for long.

* * *

Harper

I study my reflection in the darkened storefront window, adjusting the cuff of my cable-knit sweater as I hold my phone to my ear. The thick wool is warm against the late October chill, a shield against the hostilities I’m facing. Paired with dark jeans and ankle boots, I look like any other innocent woman exploring the streets tonight.

Good. That’s the point.

“I don’t like this,” Anton’s voice comes through the speaker, low and edged with tension.

I lean closer to the window, adjusting my bangs and the hang of the loose braid falling over my right shoulder. Scanning the reflection of the street behind me, I note the steady trickle of foot traffic.

The glow of pub signs casts flickering patches of light onto the wet pavement, but even with people around, the night feels too quiet.

Too still.

“You don’t have to like it, Anton,” I murmur, shifting my weight. “Just trust me to know my limitations.”

Anton exhales sharply. “I trust that you know how to take care of yourself. I don’t trust that Jamie Rowan plays by the same rules.”

Neither do I.

“Try not to worry.” I’m proud that my voice remains steady, but my stomach betrays me and twists with unease. I press my fingers to my temple, willing away the tension building there.

I’m fit. I’m fierce. I’m a fighter.

I draw a deep breath and repeat the words again. I’ve been training in martial arts and self-defense since I was a kid. Rock climbing, hiking, pushing my limits—that’s what I do. My body is strong. My instincts are sharp.

I know how to defend myself.

But there’s a difference between taking down an opponent on a mat, in a controlled fight, and walking into the unknown. I could be outnumbered and potentially drugged before I ever get the chance to react.

“If he tries something, I can handle it,” I add, more to bolster my confidence than his.

“If these are the people we think they are, and he tries something, you won’t get the chance to handle it. He won’t fight fair, Harper. He’ll have men around him. He’ll have contingencies.”

Anton is right, of course.

If Jamie Rowan is part of the Liverpool criminal ring kidnapping and selling women, he won’t rely on overpowering me with brute strength. He won’t have to.

The people who took Chantal, Macie, and Anton’s sister, Zhara, have power and influence. They have a system in place that allows them to acquire and move women like any other commodity on the black market.

But I can’t back down. Not if I want answers.

I focus on my reflection and harden my gaze with determination before exhaling and feigning a smile of sweet innocence.

That’s better. I look calm and cute, even if, beneath the surface, my pulse is drumming through my veins.

“You don’t have to do this, Harper.” Anton says after a beat. “We can find another way. We can try the police again. We can?—”

“The police are useless. Either they don’t care or they are looking the other way.” I shake my head, even though he can’t see me. “No. Thisisthe way.”

A group of people spill out of the pub across the street, their laughter breaking through the silence. I pull in a slow breath, letting the sound ground me, then push away from the storefront glass.

“I have to go. I’ll check in after and knock on your door when I get back.”

“Ifyou get back.”

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