Page 6 of The Chief
“Why are you thinking about that, Finnan? Has it got something to do with finding a new Warlord?”
He leveled me with a hard stare.
Pulling the glass closer, I took a sip, then muttered. “Whatever, you tight-lipped bastard.”
“The woman who left this bullet…” he started, drawing my attention—and my dick’s, let’s be honest.
“What about her?”
“Do you know where to find her?”
“I don’t think she’d be stupid enough to hang around after what she’s done.”
“You know how to find people, Keir. You’ve always been too fucking smart for your own good.”
That was true. There wasn’t a digital footprint I couldn’t hunt down, and I had Molly’s number stored on my phone. Granted, it could have been a burner phone, but she was a fucking nursing student. She was tethered to Galway until she finished her studies and I could fucking find her if I wanted.
“I’ll track her down.”
Finnan nodded. “And when you find the little cunt who threatened me, you’ll bring her here. We need to know what she does.”
“And if I can’t find her?”
“That’s not an option.” His tone was filled with menace, and the look in his eyes was not normally one he leveled at me. Finnan was a violent man—a beast—barely contained by society’s expectations for civility. He simply didn’t give a fuck about them. Nobody else knew that about him, though. Like me, he wore a mask. He made sure nobody knew the real Finnan Quinn.
With a rap of my knuckles against the desk, I rose and left the room, determined to find Jynx and demand she answered my questions.
Chapter 3
Molly
Ibarely slept last night.
Every noise. Every bump. Every scrape made me startle.
Every word murmured in the hall sounded like him.
Every shadow which passed outside my door looked like him.
The bastard was haunting me.
I was wrung out and. Anxious. Jumping at shadows.
And it was all Keir’s fault.
Shaking my head, I crawled out from under the duvet, blinking my scratchy eyes at the weak morning sunlight trickling past the edges of the curtains. Reaching out a tentative hand, I brushed my fingers across the stiff fabric, as I willed my fingers to flex, to take hold of the material and yank it back, to confront my hunter.
Finally, summoning the guts, I blinked at the street beyond the slightly smudged glass. People walked past, going about their day, but there was no sign of Keir’s intense, dark gaze.
Still, I knew he would come for me.
The bullet held too much weight to be anything but a challenge to the power Finnan Quinn held in his bloody hands.
By my best guess, I managed to drift off a couple of times last night, but I was always shocked back awake by the image of aspecter with dark eyes. With one last glance at the street beyond, I decided my imagination was getting the best of me, besides I had to get ready for class.
After showering and pulling on a summer dress with a pair of sneakers, I threw on a hoodie, just in case it got cool later. Finally, I slid a messenger bag over my head and started walking toward the coffee shop. My shoulders ached with the knowledge that I had a metaphorical target painted on my back, causing my anxiety to rise. By the time I arrived out the front, I was a sweaty mess.
Sucking in some calming breaths, I stepped inside and joined the already ten-person-deep line. As I waited to place my order, I scrolled through my phone, trying to distract myself with cat videos and by browsing my friends’ social media accounts.
