Dublin Nights Series Box Set: On the Edge & On the Line

by Brittney Sahin

  Donovan smirked. “Empty threats.” His voice was a whisper as I tried to jerk free from the men.

  “Let him go. He won’t do anything to risk his chance at getting back in the ring.” He took a step closer to me as the guys loosened their grips. “You know you want it—the feel of your fist cracking against someone’s skull.”

  I kept my eyes trained on him as his words moved through me. My heart pounded in my chest, and the blood rushed to my ears. “When this is all over,” I said, glancing over one shoulder, and then the other, “I’ll be coming for you two arseholes.”

  My bike wheels moved almost with grace as I rounded a sharp corner. The darkness of the night hovered all around, and I squeezed the handles tight as I focused on the road, trying to keep Donovan’s words from battering my brain. Thinking of him touching Anna was more than I could handle. I’d have to keep an eye on her—Donovan was a man of his word.

  I rolled up to the keypad at the gated entrance to my home outside the city, tapped at the numbers, and then waited for the black wrought iron gates to part.

  Inside, I fumbled with the lights. I rarely came to this place; it was much more convenient to stay at my flat in the city. I undressed in the master bedroom, freeing myself of the façade of normalcy I’d carried every day for the last five years. The life of a businessman. A man who didn’t knock the shite out of other people with zero reward.

  As I pulled on my sweats I stared into the mirror above my dresser. I worked out every day, religiously, even though I hadn’t fought in years. But working out was different than prepping for a fight.

  I stared into my blue eyes, wondering if I’d find the man I once was staring back at me. I needed him right now, even though I didn’t want to be him. But I needed him because I had to win. I had to win for Anna, for Les.

  How the hell had I gotten myself back into this situation? And why didn’t I feel more remorse for the fact that I was planning to do what I promised I’d never do again?

  I raised my hands in the air and stared at them. They were clean, smooth, unmarred. Not like the inside of my arm. I wore the tattoo as a reminder . . . and now I had to ignore it. I didn’t have a choice, did I?

  Or was I giving in to Donovan because I wanted to fight?

  “No,” I said beneath my breath, shifting my eyes back to my reflection.

  I stormed out of the bedroom, darted down the hall, and made my way to the last room there.

  When I stepped inside, I flicked on the lights—finding my fighting ring and punching bags waiting for me, dusty as hell.

  I cocked my head and rolled my shoulders.

  I hated myself at that moment.

  I hated myself because I realized Donovan was right.

  I wanted this.

  Chapter Nine

  Anna

  A soft breeze tore through the trees above me and a flurry of red and gold leaves sprinkled down. I brushed one off my shoulder, remembering that Adam had done that for me when we’d walked through the park.

  Adam’s sporty motorcycle wasn’t in the parking lot, and I hadn’t seen him in the building so far today. I’d been slightly bummed at his absence. Although I knew that it was incredibly stupid to feel that way.

  Why did I keep thinking about him? He wasn’t even close to my type.

  Looks, yes. Because who didn’t love a tall, broad-shouldered guy with insanely blue eyes, dark hair, and—oh, God—the accent. My body shivered at the thought of his deep, silky voice. I’d been obsessed with the voice of the Irish ever since I’d landed, but no one had given me the kind of chills that Adam did whenever he spoke.

  But, no—he wasn’t my type. For starters, he was my boss.

  B.O.S.S. Four letters that were jammed full of meaning.

  And how about another B word—billionaire. I didn’t necessarily have anything against money, and most of what I knew about the uber rich was from the media. But it seemed like the rich were always looking for the one thing they just couldn’t buy—happiness. And it was kind of sad. I didn’t want to get caught up in all of that.

  But the third B . . . I rolled my eyes as I thought about it. About him.

  Beautiful. And not just any beautiful. The handsome kind of sexy beautiful that almost hurts to look at. I’d be getting lines between my eyes and wrinkles on my forehead from squinting at him as if the sun was always in my eyes.

  I blinked away thoughts of Adam, however, when I thought about the men who had approached me last night. That was another check in the list of his cons—Adam was involved in something shady. What if the whole company was involved?

  God, I’d come all the way to Dublin to experience the world and get away from my problems, only to find myself caught up in new ones.

  I no longer had an appetite, and so I wrapped the rest of my sandwich up, saving it for later. I set it on the bench next to me as I heard a low rumbling sound. It was my cell phone. I reached into my purse, a tinge of annoyance winding through me. I had bought a small purse because I was sick of always digging around in a large bag to get my phone. But even with this smaller one, I still couldn’t get my hands on it as quickly as I’d like.

  When I finally yanked it free, I realized it was a text. Adam’s name was on the screen. I swiped at the message and opened it to read.

  I just wanted to let you know that everything should be fine now. You should be okay.

  I held the phone tight in my hands, reading his message a few times, trying to decipher if there was any hidden subtext. My fingers lingered over the small response box as I contemplated what to say. The sight of three gray dots had my heart leaping up into my throat. He was typing more!

  I’m looking forward to tonight.

  Tonight. What the hell would I be doing tonight that would ever come close to paying him back for the ritzy hotel?

  I chewed on my bottom lip and studied my phone. Okay, I could do this. I could text Adam. I had done it last night, hadn’t I?

  I tapped at the letters on my smartphone.

  The word “should” doesn’t exactly evoke a lot of confidence. “Should” I be worried? And what are we doing tonight? Please tell me.

  The dots popped back up again, and I wondered where he was right now.

  His words sprang to view.

  Why are you on your phone? Shouldn’t you be working?!

  I couldn’t help but laugh at the angry face emoji he added to the end of his text as I typed him back.

  I’m just now eating lunch because I’ve been so busy working my ass off for you. And you still haven’t answered my questions!

  No dots. Just silence.

  Had I crossed the line?

  I stood up and grabbed my wrapped sandwich and looked over at the thick bank of trees that towered behind the bench. A chill from another breeze moved through me, and I shut my eyes as I thought about the feel of the wind on my face and in my hair when I would ride my horse, Java.

  My phone danced an inch to the side as it pulsed from the vibration.

  Picture this. I’m sitting at a table with a bunch of rich old blokes talking about supply chain issues—boring as feck—when I see a text from you referring to your arse. I spit out my coffee, practically spraying the old dafts in their faces! Thank you for that.

  My cheeks burned, and I lowered my phone and paced in front of the bench. What was I supposed to say to that?

  He was just playing with me, of course. The man loved to get a rise out of me.

  Well, perhaps you shouldn’t have been texting during your meeting, anyway. Oh, and I have a really nice “arse”—I can see why it would make you spit.

  I laughed at my message, then moved my thumb to the backspace button. No way. I couldn’t do it. He was the owner, not just a guy who’d been shirtless at my former roommate’s home the night I’d landed.

  A text popped up from Rick, my partner. He needed me back inside.

  How long had I been outside? We’d been teamed up to prepare a marketing pitch for McGregor’s TV c
hannel.

  I was about to go inside the building, but my eyes widened in dismay. “Holy shit.”

  No!

  I stared at the screen. My message, my joke, had sent. How the hell . . .?

  I shoved the phone back into my purse without waiting to see his reply. How could I face him tonight after that message?

  I rubbed my hands over my face and groaned as I made what felt like the damn walk of shame back into the building.

  I’d learned my lesson yesterday—never leave without a jacket, umbrella, and rain boots. Of course, I still didn’t have rain boots, but I would get some and quick. Walking in my high-heeled suede boots was less than ideal on the slippery streets as rain pounded my black umbrella and hammered the sidewalk.

  I should’ve just taken a cab when I got off the bus. I had meant to look up the route online before I ventured out to meet Adam, but I’d been tied up with Rick all afternoon working on our marketing pitch. I glanced over at a girl (who was in her late teens, maybe) leaning against a building beneath an overhang. Her arms were across her chest as she stared out at the busy street. “Excuse me?” I stepped up to her and then elevated my voice to compete with the patter of the rain. “Am I going the right way?” I showed her the address on my phone, careful to keep it tucked away under the umbrella.

  The girl looked up at me and nodded. “Aye. Round that corner there.” She pointed down the street and pulled her arm back tight to her chest. Her eyes cast down at the pavement; her faded, military-grade boots kicked at the broken cobblestone pavers by her foot.

  “Thanks.” I wanted to move, to continue walking, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. “Um.”

  Her mocha-brown eyes flitted up to meet mine, and she angled her head.

  “Are you okay?” I asked.

  Her brows rose, and I wondered if the same thing was going on in her head as was in mine: Why are you asking?

  “Just waiting for the rain to let up. It’s a long walk.” She swallowed and leaned back against the building, sheltering herself from the harsh chill of the storm.

  “Take my umbrella. I’m almost to where I need to go, anyway.”

  Her brows slanted in confusion. “Really?”

  “Please, take it.” Something told me she needed it more than me.

  “Um.” She wet her lips. “Thank you.”

  I handed it over, and she nodded. I stood under the overhang for a moment after she left, preparing myself to dash as quickly as possible down the street. I was about to meet sexy Adam, and I’d be a wet mess. But some things were more important than my looks.

  The girl looked back at me over her shoulder, a smile capturing her lips before she continued down the street, picking up her pace.

  I sucked in a breath, stowed my phone away, and clutched my purse close to me. “Here goes,” I muttered, rejoining the crowd of people with umbrellas and rain jackets on the sidewalk. Now, why hadn’t I thought to bring a jacket with a hood?

  In my dress and heeled boots, I rushed as fast as possible down the sidewalk and turned down the street I’d been looking for. The water on my face made me blink, and I was sure my mascara was smudged beneath my eyes.

  A two-story building sat at the end of the street I’d started down. It had to be the place. There was only one building in sight, but there was no name on the outside of the gray-painted bricks.

  As I neared, my heel got stuck between the cobblestone pavers and I tripped. I fell forward, my palms skidding against the ground. Well, at least I hadn’t smacked my face against the wet pavement.

  How embarrassing. I started to stand, brushing the wet dirt off my hands, but there was someone at my side, grasping my elbow.

  “Shit, Anna, are you okay?”

  I squinted Adam’s way, trying to shield my eyes from the rain. Sheets of water poured over us. My mouth parted and droplets fell against my lips as I stared at him, dumbfounded.

  Wet and soaking. His white dress shirt started to cling to his athletic build, molding to his muscles. Wow, he was hot. And I must have looked—hell, I didn’t want to think about how I looked.

  “You okay?” he asked again and took me by surprise by pulling me into his arms, lifting me. Grateful, I slung my arms around his neck as he carried me to the building. Hot and chivalrous.

  He set me down just inside, where he shook his head and ran his fingers over his short hair, swiping the rain away.

  “I tripped.” I blinked a few times and tucked my arms to my chest, my bottom lip shaking from the cold.

  “I saw that,” he said. “Come on, let’s get you changed. You must be freezing. Why don’t you have an umbrella?”

  I unbuttoned my jacket and stared in a daze down at the concrete floor. When I pulled the thin wet jacket from my shoulders, his eyes darkened, and his fingers came down over my hands. “Not a good idea.” He tugged at the lapels of my jacket and pulled them together, covering my chest.

  “What? But it’s soaking wet.”

  I saw him swallow, and I opened up my jacket, wondering what he’d been looking at. The water had soaked through my cotton jacket, which wasn’t made for rain. “Oh jeez.” My cream-colored, fitted silk dress had become nearly transparent. My nipples were hard, poking through the thin lace fabric of my bra.

  I snapped my jacket closed, my body heating with humiliation despite the cold, damp material.

  Adam took a step back and rubbed the side of his face. “There are clothes here if you want to change.” There was a slight hint of a smile on his lips as one of his brows lifted. Why was this happening to me?

  He turned down a dark hall, and I followed after, trying not to look at the hint of ink that was evident now beneath his wet dress shirt. I wondered if he intended to comment on the text I’d sent him earlier in the day. He had never replied to the message, so maybe he wanted to drop it.

  “Where are we?” We stopped in front of a door just midway down the hall. I could hear the faint sounds of a tap-tap-tap coming from afar, as well as shouting. Or was that screaming?

  “It’s a boys and girls club—a place for teens to hang out in the evening when they have nowhere to go.” He opened the door, flipped on the light, and went inside.

  “And why are we here?”

  He grabbed a pair of sweats, a gray T-shirt, and some socks. “I think there are shoes in here, too.” He squatted down. “What size?”

  “Eight.”

  I admired his shoulder blades and the way the fabric of his slacks strained over the muscles in his quads as he reached for the shoes.

  “We keep a lot of stuff here in case the kids ever need clothes.” He rose to his feet and plopped a pair of orange Nikes on top of the clothes.

  “Nikes, huh? You don’t mess around.” I laughed nervously. “So, you gonna answer my question?”

  He shut the door and stood just outside of it. “I had this place built a few years ago. I wanted a place for kids to go where they could stay out of trouble. Keep people from turning out like me.”

  “Like you? What? A rich businessman?”

  “I wasn’t always a choir boy.” A smile skated across his lips—the panty-dropping kind. Although mine were already wet, for different reasons.

  “And you’re a choir boy now?” I smiled. “Sure.”

  He pressed a hand to his chest as if I’d offended him. “You said you wanted to work, so I brought you here to work, Miss Smarty Pants.”

  “I hardly call hanging out with teenagers work.”

  “Well, I come here twice a week to spend time with them. I’m going to be wrapped up the next few months, and I may not be able to make it often. It would mean a lot to me if you’d be able to step in.” He blew out a breath as his eyes met mine. “There are things worth more to me than money.”

  “You don’t act like a billionaire,” I blurted.

  He smiled at me. “Oh yeah? And how am I supposed to act?”

  “Not this normal,” I answered lamely, which induced a laugh from him. “Anyway,” I sa
id, raising my hands in the air, “this will be fun. I come from a big family, so this will feel like I’m home again. It’ll be nice.”

  His hand came down on my shoulder. “Get dressed, and I’ll introduce you. The jacks is up the hall.”

  The jacks? I didn’t bother to ask. It must be Irish for the bathroom. “Adam?”

  He’d already started down the hall, so he paused and glanced over his shoulder at me.

  “What has you so busy you won’t be coming here?” I wasn’t sure why I needed to know, but if this place was important to him—and it had to have been for him to open it and spend his nights there—what would keep him away?

  “Nothing you need to worry about,” he said softly before looking away. He moved quickly down the hall and turned out of sight.

  I sighed, trying to push away the strange, nagging feeling inside me as I walked into the bathroom.

  “Jeez!” I cupped a hand to my mouth, dropping the clothes on the counter in the bathroom. I looked like I’d just stepped out of a horror film. One in which I played an evil clown. Black streaks were beneath my eyes mimicking deathly tears.

  I splashed water on my face and wiped at the splotches of black until they disappeared. My cheeks were a little red and my foundation had come off, but it was still an improvement. I combed my fingers through my sopping hair and wrapped it up into a loose bun on my head.

  That would have to do.

  I quickly changed and made my way down a hall, following the noise.

  When I pushed open a set of doors, there were teenagers everywhere. And why wouldn’t there be? It was a kid’s dream.

  An indoor basketball court was on one side of the room where a group of guys played five on five. On the other side were rows of long, rectangular tables. Pizza boxes were open, and several kids sat there eating. TVs lined one wall, attached to game systems, and several kids were playing board games at neighboring tables.

  I noticed a few adults in the room who were dressed in red T-shirts and khaki pants. I assumed they were employees or volunteers. But where was Adam?