Page 48 of Wild Irish

Patrick meets me at the front of the coffee shop, brows drawn down, and grabs my biceps, pulling me to the back of the shop, eyes darting over his shoulder.

“I think ye got a bit of trouble.”

Shit. I glance around, expecting to find Aiden or Shane, or worse, Owen, lurking in the shadows.

I frown. “Why?”

Patrick glances over his shoulder again and nods to the back booth. There’s a man, maybe in his early twenties, dressed in slacks and a button-down shirt.

I don’t recognize him.

“Who is he?”

“Says he’s looking for ye.”

“Me?” I’ve had my share of crazed fans since Wild Irish hit the charts, but he doesn’t look like a groupie. He looks more like a banker or a debt collector. “Did he say what he wanted?”

“No. But he made it clear he wasn’t leaving until he talked to ye.”

“How the hell did he know I was here?”

Patrick shrugs. “He’s been asking all over town about ye.”

A heavy pit forms in my stomach. “I’ll take care of it.”

“Let me know if ye need any back-up.”

I grunt, then walk towards the booth. Better to just deal with the man straight up.

“I hear ye’re looking for me.”

The man glances up, and the second his gaze lands on mine, recognition settles in his dark eyes, and I see it – anger.

“Cillian Gallagher?” He says my name like it’s poison on his lips.

“And ye are?”

He stands. The man is a couple inches taller than I am, but he’s scrawny. Even so, he looks ready for a fight.

“Matt Wheatley.”

I tilt my chin and look down my nose at him. “Never heard of ye.”

His nostrils flare, and the anger in his gaze only intensifies. “I find that hard to believe.”

The man hasn’t done anything, but I can already feel my fingers forming into fists at my sides.

“What can I do for ye, Matt Wheatley?” I say his name with the same amount of venom he said mine. I may not know who he is, but from his stance and the look in his eyes, it’s clear he’s not here for anything good.

“I’m looking for someone you know.” He pulls out his wallet and takes out a photo, handing it to me.

My chest tightens when I look down and see familiar hazel eyes staring back at me.

Delaney.

“Do you know where she is?”

“What do ye want with her?”

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