Mafia King (Young Irish Rebels #2) - Vi Carter Page 0,11

I try to give her a smile that I would reserve for kids, and her lip curls up in a snarl. Not what I expected. But I remember she was nearly shot to death.

I take a step closer to her, and her cheeks flame as she drags her hands to her chest. “I’m fine.”

“Clearly, you’re not.” I nod at the towel that’s turning pink from her blood. Why do girls have to be so awkward? I had places to be, and she was burning through my fucking time.

I don’t let that level of anger spill, but I let enough seep through so she’ll give me her hands. “Just let me take a look.”

She doesn’t move, and I grip the towel, ready to pull it away.

Her movements are quick as she stumbles away and slams her back into the wall. “Don’t touch me.”

Her wild green eyes are fueled with disgust. I see it. She can’t hide it if she wanted to, but she isn’t trying to.

I scratch my beard and exhale loudly. “I have some things to take care of, so you make yourself cushy, love.”

“I will never be cushy with the likes of you.” She sprays her venom as she shuffles away from the wall. Her small shoulders rise and fall, and I fold my arms across my chest.

The angrier she grows, the redder her face becomes.

“You’re a savage.” She fires as I stare at her, clearly making her uncomfortable.

I nod my head and take the paper out of my back pocket. I scan it, and she shuts up as I pretend to read it.

“It says here you play the tin whistle. Give us a tune, love.” Maybe talking about something she’s used to would put out the fire raging inside her. She’s too small to showcase this level of anger.

Her blood pressure spikes, and she’s as red as her hair as she drops the towel and rips the paper out of my hand. I get a quick glimpse of her hands that are crisscrossed in cuts.

She’s a spitfire. This is just what I need.

“Who gave you this?”

I’m considering spanking her so she can calm down, but I’m watching her as she shakes the paper in front of me.

“You have no right to any of this. You’re an animal.” Her small chest rises and falls quickly as she rants at me.

I had no idea what she was ranting about, but I don’t have time for this. Grabbing her arm, she starts squealing and tries to pull away as I drag her to the large blue wardrobe and open the door. The empty hangers rattle as I push her in. The moment I release her, her wild eyes narrow, and I close the doors on her before she can do anything. It takes a second before her screams and bangs start.

While she has a hissy fit that I’m in no mood for, I keep one hand on the doors and reach across to the dressing table. I take the golden handled hairbrush and push it through the handles of the wardrobe. I step back and light a cigarette as the doors rattle violently.

“I wouldn’t hit it too hard, little Emma. You might topple the wardrobe.”

She curses at me, and I grin as I collect my jacket and leave her to settle down.

CHAPTER FIVE

EMMA

My hands continue to shake long after the savage has vacated the room. Hope dies as time passes, and he doesn’t come back to release me. My heart pitter-patters as his face consumes my dark mind. No light filters into the wardrobe, and I’ve given up beating the doors. My hands are sore. The wooden surface under me is what I cling to as I drag my fingers across the grains of wood. At first, I had started to count each bump I’d felt, but as the darkness edges closer, panic infiltrates my system and scatters the numbers to the corners of my mind.

Heat fills my cheeks as I think of him. Shame and something deeper has my heart gaining too much speed.

I squeeze my eyes closed, hoping to force the next thought away, but I fail. He was the most handsome man I had ever seen. Handsome isn’t correct. He had a wildness to him, not just with his beard and the bruising on his face—a perfectly sculpted face. No, it was his dark eyes. He had spoken gently to me, but there was nothing gentle about him. My body had responded in the worst possible way to