Page 154 of Three Irish Kings
Has she gone back to sleep again? All this time I thought she was sick; she was just knocked up.
She’s not in the bedroom. She’s not in the bathroom. She’s not on the balcony.
My breath catches in my throat. She fucking left.
Again.
I yell but manage not to punch any more walls or people. Yet, anyway. My knuckles still ache from before.
I have to go and tell the others.
Liam won’t be any help, but we can put him in the back seat, and Cillian hasn’t had more than a drink and a beer, so he’ll be fine to drive.
We’ll find her before she can do this to us again.
Because there’s no way in hell I’m giving up Isla Quinn without a fight, no matter how little she cares.
I practically jump down the stairs, two at a time, to get back to Cillian and Liam, but a glint of silver catches my eye.
A bracelet lies between the staircase and the lobby door.
I crouch down and pick it up, and my heart plummets.
It’s Isla’s bracelet, one I’d made her custom, with a charm that reads “D” on it. It was my way of claiming her, and I hadn’t even noticed she was still wearing it before.
Something’s wrong.
Why would she take this with her, keep it on her at all times, only to discard it now? Unless shedidn’tdiscard it.
My mind swirls.
Fuck,I wish I wasn’t so drunk. I thought we were all safe, thatIslawas safe, and I was an idiot.
I pocket the bracelet and go to the front desk.
The man ignores me until I pound my fist down on the desk.
“Yes?”
“Did you see a woman down here earlier? Brunette, leggy.”
He shrugs. “I see a lot of things.”
I glare at him, but I know his type. Smarmy, sketchy. Greedy.
I pull out my wallet and put two hundred-dollar bills on the table. “This jog your memory?”
He smiles, his whole face lighting up, and grabs the money, tucking it in his back pocket. “The one staying here, right?”
I nod tightly.
“She left with an older gentleman a few hours ago. Went out the back door. They looked like they were arguing.”
Alarm bells are going off in my head, making my headache worse.
God knows when I last ate, and I’m certainly not at my best.
I don’t thank him, just whirl around and push through the doors of the bar.
