"Sorcha Quinn." His voice carries over the background noise. "I don't think we've been introduced."
She stops. Every instinct I developed in Afghanistan screams warning. Moran didn't come here for a drink.
"I don't know you," Sorcha replies, stepping sideways.
Moran moves with her, keeping himself between her and the kitchen. "Lorcan Moran. I own several establishments in this neighborhood."
"This isn't your establishment."
His smile never reaches his eyes. "Neighborhoods change. Business relationships evolve."
I stand up from my stool. Three steps closer. Close enough to act if needed.
Sorcha glances around the room, noting the attention they're drawing. Smart—she knows this conversation affects more than just her.
"What do you want?" she asks.
"To discuss your safety." Moran's tone stays conversational, but his meaning cuts clear. "Beautiful woman like you, working late hours in questionable territory. Accidents happen."
The threat hangs in the air like smoke. I count his guys—two visible, one more outside. Standard formation for a public approach.
"I can take care of myself," Sorcha says.
"Can you?" Moran steps closer. "This neighborhood has seen increased violence. Dock workers getting hurt. Shippingcontainers going missing. Dangerous times for innocent people."
My hand moves toward my jacket. Combat instincts take over.
"What kind of safety are you offering?" Sorcha asks, voice steady despite the obvious threat.
"Protection. Insurance. Peace of mind." His smile widens. "All very reasonable rates."
"And if I'm not interested?"
"Everyone's interested in staying safe."
The front door chimes again. Tommy Flanagan enters—one of our crew. He spots Moran and positions himself near the exit. Good. Blocking escape routes.
Moran notices too. His eyes flick toward Tommy, then back to Sorcha.
"Think about it," he tells her. "I'll be in touch."
He turns to leave and sees me standing three feet away.
"Eamon Kavanagh." Recognition sparks in his eyes. "Didn't see you there."
"Just having a quiet drink." I keep my voice level. "Enjoying the atmosphere."
"Neighborhood establishments should maintain their character."
"They do. Under proper management."
We stare at each other. Two predators taking measure. He knows I'm armed. I know he's calculating odds.
"Give my regards to your father," Moran says.
"I'll do that."
He walks toward the door, his crew following. At the threshold, he pauses.
