Page 2 of The Endless Want

I push back from the table, chair scraping. “Tell Liam I don’t take orders from messengers.”

Her eyes flick to me, cool and unreadable. “Then maybe you should start showing up to his meetings instead of hiding in bars and trying to meet behind his back for gossip.”

A couple of muffled snickers escape the other officers, and Conor sucks in a breath.

My glass stops halfway to my mouth. “Careful.”

“Or what?” She steps closer, close enough that I catch the faint scent of her perfume—smoke and citrus, like old memories I’d rather forget. “You’ll throw another tantrum about loyalty?”

The room’s watching us now. She’s not an officer, but she might as well be. She’s quickly shown her cards as Liam’s invaluable right hand.

Conor shifts uncomfortably, ready to intervene, but I lift a hand. “This is between me and her,” I say.

She folds her arms. “No, Declan. This is between you and the family. Don’t make it personal.”

“Everything’s personal.”

“Not this time.”

Something in her voice hits wrong—too composed, too cold. The same tone she used the night she chose Liam’s side over mine.

I take a step toward her. “You forget who you used to stand beside.”

“No,” she says softly. “You made sure I couldn’t.”

The silence that follows could choke a man.

Conor clears his throat. “We done here?”

Ailish doesn’t look away from me when she answers. “For now.”

She turns to leave, but I’m not done. “You tell Liam he can shove his Italian alliance. The Irish don’t need babysitters.”

She pauses in the doorway, half-turned, light catching the edge of her cheekbone. “Then start acting like you don’t.” She’s gone before I can respond, leaving the door open and the smell of her perfume clinging to the air.

Conor whistles under his breath. “You really know how to make friends.”

I down the rest of my drink. “Who needs friends?”

CHAPTER 2

Ailish

The echo of Declan’s voice still rings in my head long after I’ve left O’Malley’s.

I know very well he won’t say any of this Liam, and I don’t think he’s dumb enough to truly risk the alliance that saved all our asses.

No, this is entirely personal. It’s about choosing Liam’s side over his when Declan left me no choice.

I tell myself it doesn’t matter—that his opinion is just noise—but the truth is, every word hits like a bruise. The man has always known how to find the soft spots and press until something inside me flinches.

Outside, the night wind carries the city’s pulse: tires hissing through puddles, distant laughter from drunks, the low thrum of music leaking from the pub’s basement. I shove my hands into my coat pockets and walk faster. The cold helps. It cuts through whatever heat his temper left behind.

Don’t make it personal, I’d told him. But with Declan, everything is personal.

By the time I reach my car, my jaw aches from clenching. I sit behind the wheel for a full minute before starting the engine, staring at my reflection in the rear-view mirror. My lipstick’s smudged from biting it. My eyes—too bright. Angry bright. I smooth my hair and tell myself to breathe.

“Let it go,” I whisper. “You did your job.”