Taken by Her Prince

“You could let me go,” she said.

“You’re free to leave whenever you want. We both know you want to stay.”

She glared at me, a fierce anger in her eyes. “I don’t have a choice now, do I? My uncle has my father and you’re my only chance at getting him back.”

“So you say.” I tilted my head. “What happened if you just walked away? What happened if you went to your uncle and begged him to spare your father? He’d have no reason to hurt either of you.”

She bit her lip like she hadn’t considered that. I watched her struggle for a long moment as more smoke plumed from the building. Firefighters shouted and the spray of water was almost deafening. I held her tight, her body against mine, and I could feel the heat from the fire roll across the pavement in waves.

She took a deep breath then shook her head.

“I can’t,” she said.

“I know,” I said. “You’re not in this just for yourself or your father anymore. You want revenge. You fucking hate your uncle for what he did to you. For what he took away from you.”

That anger again, white hot and intense. “You’re right,” she said. “I hate him. And I want to make him pay.”

“Good,” I said, and leaned toward her. I was inches from her lips. “Use that anger, little Colleen.”

I kissed her, lips tight against hers. She kissed me back with a frenzy that surprised me. She was hungry for it, that dirty girl, and I let her tongue slide against mine as I held her body tight.

We broke apart slowly and she took deep breaths, sucking smoke into her lungs. I smirked and touched her lips with my thumb.

“You don’t have to keep pretending,” I said. “Like you’re just some innocent girl. Got pulled into this against your will. Just accept what you are.”

“Yeah? What am I?”

“You’re the kind of girl that wants revenge,” I said. “And you’re the kind of girl that gets it.”

She smiled a little and tilted her head. She took a sharp breath as I smirked at her and stepped away.

“What are you going to do?” she asked.

“Hit him back,” I said and gestured at the fire. “This is just the beginning. Think you can handle that?”

“Only if my father ends up alive.”

I nodded. “I hear you. I’m not going to let him get hurt.”

“Then we can’t let this drag out.” She stepped up next to me again and I looked down at her, fighting the surprise.

“It’s ‘we’ now, is it?” I laughed and put an arm over her shoulder. “I like it.”

“I bet you do.” She took my arm off and pointed at the fire. “He’s not going to stop here. You killed his guys, and my uncle isn’t going to take that lightly. This was just a warning.”

“There you go,” I said. “Starting to use that brain.”

She ignored me. “He’s going to attack you soon,” she said. “And you need to do something before he has a chance.”

“Like what?” I asked.

“He has a bar. It’s this place where the Club always meets, called O’Hare’s Tavern. Real Irish, plays soccer on TV all day, that sort of crap. The Club idiots love it.”

“Bet it’s full of green and Celtic crosses,” I said.

“About the biggest stereotype you can imagine. If we can hit that place, it’ll hurt them. Piss them off at least.”

“And make them make a move?” I asked.

“Maybe,” she said.

“Fine.” I held my hands behind my back and took a deep breath. “I like that plan.”

“Do it tonight,” she said. “Before he has time to enjoy what he did here.”

“Why so eager?”

“Because I know my uncle. He’ll brag about this for days if you let him. Hit him back and make him pay for it.”

I nodded once. “I can do that,” I said.

She stared at the fire, at the firefighters in their heavy coats and hats, at the water gushing from the end of their hoses and soaking my building. That was going to cost a fortune to fix, but it didn’t matter.

I couldn’t take my eyes off her. She was the real fire, the real passion burning hotter than that wood and plaster across the street. I could see the anger really waking up inside of her, and I loved it, wanted more of it. I wanted that hate to flow through her and break out into the world in waves.

Together, we would bring the Club to its knees.21StevenI parked the car down the block from O’Hare’s and turned off the engine. The headlights stayed on for a moment before they powered down and left the street in darkness.

It was half past three in the morning. It was quiet and nobody moved on the block. There were a few shops on the right, a drycleaner’s, a Chinese food place, a travel agent’s storefront, and an athletic shoe store at the very end. But right in the middle of the block was a large windowed building with a huge wooden door and a green awning held up by skinny silver poles. It looked like a decent spot from the outside, though the text was all in that cliché Celtic-looking script font and I could practically smell the fried food from a distance.