Page 46 of The Chief
His gaze flicked in my direction before it returned to the road. “They’re the Boss and Chief of the Sionnach Clan.”
A shivered traced down my spine, as if my body was experiencing trauma from associating with mafia clans. This would be the third clan interaction I’d had in ten years, more than enough for three lifetimes over.
Keir’s large hand landed on my upper thigh, the heat from his palm radiating through my jeans. “Are you okay?”
I tried to brush away his hand, but it was glued to my leg. Glaring at him, I said, “You don’t have to keep the ruse up while we’re in the car.”
“I know, but I like my hands being on you.” He took his eyes from the road and stared at me. “I like to see your pulse jump at the base of your throat when I’m touching you.”
Heat flushed up my neck because the bastard was right. His touch sparked something in my body, something no amount of hate could ever change.
“So, are you okay?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?” I retorted.
“Because you look like you’re going to puke.”
“Maybe that’s because I’m in your presence.”
He flashed me a grin. “Oh, I like this bratty side of you, Jynx.”
“Keep touching me without my permission and you’ll see exactly how bratty I can get.”
He chuckled, navigating out of my mother’s estate and making his way further east into Dublin city. The rest of the ride was silent, and I watched how the suburbs changed into industrial estates, low-rise flats morphing into the busy city of Dublin. I expected us to stop there, but Keir kept driving southeast until we were surrounded by large Victorian and Georgian houses.
Keir finally pulled into the driveway of what had to be the largest house on the block. The guards at the gate carried rifles across their bodies.
“Is this one of the embassy buildings?” I asked as Keir retracted the window to speak to one of the men.
Keir ignored me, which only pissed me off. What the fuck were we doinghere? As we were waved through the black iron gates, I spun in my seat to watch the heavily armed men take up their positions again.
“Where are we?”
“Gael O’Mahony’s house.”
I gazed up at the Georgian designed house as we slipped into its shadow. “A Clan Boss lives here?”
“Nobody outside the black market and underworld know he’s a Clan Boss,” he replied, shutting off the engine.
“Well, who do they think he is?”
“He’s a successful tech entrepreneur who sold up big in the boom.”
I raised a brow. “And they believe that?” I asked, indicating toward the armed guards and stupidly tall gates and walls.
“People believe what they want to believe,” he replied, and those words felt loaded. I hid in plain sight, who is to say a Clan Boss wouldn’t do the same thing? By the way Keir often stared at me, I had a feeling he wore his own kind of mask, and I bet I’d been one of the few to peek behind it.
Once I’d gathered my thoughts, I wet my lips and replied, “Like they believe you’re a friendly and easy-going guy.”
“And that you’re not a murdering little thing who has a penchant for disappearing,” he quipped.
I stilled; my heart jammed into my throat, battling to escape the truth. “What?”
His grin was triumphant, and he moved to the front door, dragging me beside him. “So you did murder someone. Iknewit. We’ll talk about this later.”
“Keir,” I said, exasperated. “I’mnota mu?—”
My words were cut off when the door swung open. A man who looked like a thug loomed on the other side, gazing impassively at Keir.
