Page 35 of Lawless Rivals

“What am I doing?” he bites out. “What the fuck are you doing letting her wander around the yard? We’ve got a cuffed Harrington on the property, and the buyer tied up in the old barn. Do ya know what kind of shitstorm this is?”

Saint steps in close, shoulders squared, jaw taut. “You’re not helping. Back the fuck up.”

“Are you drunk?” Rafe barks out a laugh. “She was at Dane’s Escort. Another thirty seconds and she would’ve been waving at the Garda on her way past.”

Saint’s eyes flash. “I said back the fuck up, Rafe.”

Rafe jabs a finger at my face without looking at me. “This is what I was talking about. She’s a disaster waiting to explode in our faces.”

Saint fists his brother’s jacket and hauls him off me. “I’ll deal with her. You go out there and get rid of Crowley.”

“You’d better keep her quiet then,” Rafe fires back. “Or I will.”

“No, Rafe,” Saint grits. “You won’t.”

The barn falls into a tense, brittle silence. My pulse thrums, and I can’t tell if Saint’s protecting me or keeping control of the situation.

After a beat, he exhales through his nose and wraps his hand around my bicep, yanking me tight to his side, away from Rafe.

“Go meet them in the yard,” he orders his brother. “I don’t care how ya do it, just figure out a way to get them off our backs.”

Rafe shakes his head.

“I knew this whole Harrington bullshit was a mistake,” he mutters as he stalks out of the barn.

As soon as Rafe disappears, Saint’s attention snaps to me. His eyes are darker than I’ve ever seen them, and the flutter in my chest has nothing to do with fascination anymore.

It’s the jolt of standing directly in the path of his anger.

The moment I swallow, Saint’s hand snares my elbow, and he yanks me to move with him, my feet scrambling in his big shoes to keep up with his long strides.

The barn stretches ahead of us, shadows creating a tunnel of darkness.

By the time he pulls me to the very last stall, my pulse is frantic. A chestnut thoroughbred lifts its head, ears flicking forward as Saint slides the stall door open.

Before I can argue, his hand closes harder around my arm, and he hauls me inside.

While the horse munches, Saint moves into my personal space and backs me into the far corner until there’s nowhere left to go. His shoulders block out most of the light, leaving only a thin haze.

His breath mingles with mine in the small hay-scented pocket of air he’s trapped me inside.

“What were you doing out there?” he growls, the words low and vibrating inside my chest.

His mouth is inches from mine, heat rolling off him in waves.

“I told ya to behave.”

I glare up at him because I refuse to back down.

“And you expected me to listen?” I say. “I want to go home.”

His eyes narrow, a slow, lethal movement that makes my pulse jump.

“Is that so?” he says. “You still don’t get it, do ya?”

A car door slams somewhere outside, and murmured voices drift around the fake peacefulness of Black Heath Stud.

My heartbeat kicks up, hope and panic knotting in my chest. And before I can second-guess myself, I draw in a breath and go to scream. However, Saint moves faster than the air leaving my lungs.