Page 70 of Lawless Sinners

His forehead creases. “Is that same asshole the reason you’re crying?”

I let out a cracked laugh and look away. “Oh, please. I’d never give some low-life garage owner the satisfaction.”

His gaze stays on me. “Have you been drinking?”

“What’s with the interrogation?”

“You’re outside alone, crying against your car, with blood on your face and no keys in your hand. I’m adjusting my questions around the evidence.”

“How very forensic of ya.”

“How much have you had?”

“Two.” I stick up two fingers: it would be funny if my hand wasn’t shaking so badly. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to grab my keys from inside so I can go home.”

He stares at me for a racing heartbeat, then backs away. When I take a step forward, he moves his sleeve back a fraction and checks the time on his gold watch.

My breath stalls.

It’s a stupid reaction.

Humiliating, in fact.

The movement drags me straight back to the barn. To the orangery. To him taking off his watch before he chased me.

My throat tightens. “Please don’t take it off.”

His gaze lifts to mine.

I swallow, and the words scrape on the way out. “I don’t have the… I can’t run tonight. I need you to leave me alone.”

For once, he says nothing. Only glances over his shoulder at the Kinnane house.

“Fionn,” I whisper as he turns to me. “No.”

However, his watch stays on, and he comes at me before I can dodge him. He bends and throws me over his shoulder.

“What the hell are ya doing?” I snap, grabbing at the back of his jacket. “Put me down.”

“No.”

“Fionn Harrington, I swear to God⁠—”

“You can swear at me in the car.”

He carries me across the driveway as the security looks away because they wouldn’t dare challenge the Harrington heir and the Kinnane groom. After the wedding, Fionn will be the most powerful man this side of Ireland.

Fionn stops beside a black Range Rover and sets me down at the passenger side.

My balance wavers, and his hand comes to my waist.

I smack it away as he opens the door, places one hand over the top edge of the frame and looks at me.

“Get in.”

“No. I can drive myself.”

“You don’t have your keys.”