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Finn
Three pints in and I’m feeling like the world is my oyster.
I won three bouts in O’Brien’s favor but on my terms—meaning I took a few solid punches and one massive breath-stealing kick to the kidney. The South African won his bouts, as expected. We can’t be disappointing Mrs. Ogdenhayer quite yet, now can we?
And the minx? My lucky wan can’t keep her hands off me.
Not that I’m any better—worse. Truth be told, I’ve been contemplating all night hauling her pretty self into the jacks and riding her until she sings hallelujah backward. The slightest glimpse of her pretty face causes my mind to numb and my cock to harden. Never in me life have I wanted someone the way I want Clarissa. And we make a good team. No, a bleedin’ brilliant team.
I study her from across the room. She’s working her magic with Fiona. Probably questioning her mate about what work I’ll be getting my hands dirty doing. Or more likely, putting a contingency plan in place for when I’ll feck things up with Johnny and bring a wee bit more excitement to the job than anyone expects. In a short time, she’s gotten to know me well. Better than anyone, really. She’s under my skin, she is.
“Another pint,” I call out to the bartender, guilt becoming the relentless companion constantly keeping me in check. Because what in God’s teeth am I doing dreaming of what can never be?I make a “cut-thee-ol’-head-off” motion to the bartender then call out, “Hold off on the pint. A shot of Jamie will do.”
It doesn’t take long for the liquor to hit the spot and for me going back to feeling like the gobshite I am. A light tap on me arm draws me out of my mind-feck. Turning, I find the church wafer-sized lad I was scheduled to fight earlier ... until I didn’t.
“Can I talk to you in private?” he asks.
I frown at the wobble in his tone. My fights are over and done with. Yet something’s frightened the wee fella. For a heartbeat, I consider saying no. I’ve got bigger plans for my evening, namely giving her a ride to la-la land and giving her what for like it’s our last time together. But, it appears, the Jamie is making me charitable. “Lead the way,” I say.
We cross the bar to a hallway leading to a back exit. The polite fella steps aside, allowing me to exit first. It’s not until the door slams behind me that I curse beneath my breath, a few seconds shy of admitting my mistake.
Silence greets me out here in the darkness. I count off in me head, waiting for the mob ambush or Mrs. Ogdenhayer to step out of the shadows.
It’s when nothing happens that I realize how fecked I truly am.
“You disobeyed an order, Finn.”
Hayden.
“G’way. Where’d you come from?” I spoke with the boss just yesterday while Clarissa was in the shower. Either I need me ears waxed or he didn’t mention being in Cork.
“Don’t play me for a fool. She’s still here.”
She. Clarissa.
“I was given permission to conduct this job as I saw fit.”
He clucks his tongue, the sound immediately grating on my nerves. “With a reporter? A woman who graduated at the top of her class? Someone with balls enough to live in wartime Syria, who was advised to leave due to heightened threats of bombings yet chose to do her motherfucking job anyway?”
Jaysus. He’s checked her background.I freeze, me mind racing. Put so, Clarissa sounds like a dangerous liability. Someone who’d expose our secrets. A threat.
“You spoke to her.” I keep my tone neutral as I gage his response. Because of course he did. Probably warned her away. And, of course, she kept it from meandis still here. Christ on a bike. What now?
“I underestimated her.”
You wouldn’t be the first.
“She tell you we talked?”
That would be a bleedin’ no.
I tap my head. “Been taking a few beatings, in case you hadn’t noticed. Joggles the ol’ memory.”
“And now you’re lying to protect her.”
“Maybe she missed the warning part?”
That stubborn, driven beour.
