Page 8 of Dublin Beast
I close my eyes. “Worst pep talk ever.”
Anton sighs. “Be careful.”
I end the call and slip my phone into my pocket.
My breath fogs in the cold air as I turn toward the restaurant where Jamie Rowan is waiting. My body is loose, steady. My mind is sharp. If this goes the way I hope it will, I’ll finally be able to get some answers.
And if it doesn’t…
I tighten my hands into fists.
I’ll be ready.
CHAPTERTHREE
Bryan
The hotel room door swings shut behind me with a dullthud, the weight of exhaustion settling deep in my bones. The place is nice enough—clean, modern, with a view of Liverpool that might actually be worth something if I gave a damn.
But right now, all I care about is the takeaway bag in my hand and the promise of a hot shower before I crash for the night.
My muscles ache from being on a leash all day.
If I were home, I could’ve been moving from place to place on my Harley. I would’ve been wearing jeans and my cut and my muscles would burn from too many hours in the saddle.
Instead, I’m dressed like a fucking businessman, being chauffeured around like I’m respectable or some shit. I’m representing the Quinn clan in Watson territory and the tedium of not finding Siobhan has built inside me over the past twelve hours until I’m a fucking time bomb about to go off and take out half a city block.
Kieran drops onto the armchair near the window, running a hand through his russet hair with a sigh. “Today was a bloody waste of time.”
“No shit.” I toss the bag of fish and chips onto the small table, scrubbing a hand over my jaw where the stubble is starting to itch. “We spent the whole goddamn day chasing ghosts, and are no closer to finding her than we were this morning.”
“She’s not a ghost.” Kieran’s voice is level, but there’s an edge to it. “She’s out there. And the people protecting her know she’ll be hunted. It was naïve to think this would be easy.”
I exhale hard through my nose, shaking my head as I shrug off my suit jacket and drape it over the back of a chair. “Aye, well, there’s the rub. The longer we’re poking around asking questions, the sooner her rat squad will learn we’re gunning for her. Which means this could take longer than we thought.”
Kieran leans back, stretching his legs out in front of him. His boots leave dirt marks on the carpet that housekeeping will be pissed about tomorrow. “We tracked her this far and I’ve got feelers out. We’ll have better luck tomorrow.”
I grunt, not convinced in the slightest, but too damn tired to argue. Instead, I reach for the takeaway bag, tear it open, and pass him a grease-stained box before grabbing my own.
The smell of battered fish and salt-drenched chips fills the room, and for the first time today, something feels remotely right. The familiar comfort of greasy pub food almost makes up for the shit day we’ve had.
We eat in silence, the only sounds the crinkle of paper and the quiet hum of city traffic outside. By the time I’ve wiped my fingers clean on one of the thin paper napkins, my limbs feel twice as heavy, my body screaming for sleep like I’ve just gone ten rounds in the cage.
Kieran stands, stretching with a groan before nodding toward the bathroom. His joints pop loud enough to hear and I realize I’m not the only one feeling it tonight. “I’m showering first. Try not to pass out before I’m done.”
I flip him off, grabbing my phone from the table and checking for any updates from back home. Nothing. With a sigh, I lean back against the headboard, rolling my shoulders as I stare at the ceiling, studying the pattern running along the crown molding.
The sound of the shower running drowns out the quiet for a while, and when Kieran emerges, towel-drying his hair and leaving wet footprints on the carpet, I push up from the bed, ready to take my turn.
I grab my duffle, but before I make it to the washroom, there’s a security beep and our door swings open.
Logan.
I frown as he steps inside with a black bag hanging at his side. “Why are you back here? And what’s in that? There are two beds and neither of us are into you.”
He flashes me a shit-eating grin, locks the door behind him without a word, and strides toward the window. Lifting a key ring, he unlocks the adjoining door, and pulls it open. When he opens the door to the next room, he turns back to us, smirking. “See you in the morning, roomies.”
I curse, my jaw clenching. “Seriously? Do the Watsons think us incapable of sleeping without getting into trouble?”
