Throughout the car ride, Reagan remained silent, staring out the passenger window even as Liam attempted to engage her in conversation. The last thing she wanted was to be in his car, riding along to meet the man that had sired the brothers. While not all children’s wrongdoings was the fault of the parents, Reagan couldn’t help but wonder what kind of man stood as the patriarch of the McCarthy family.
“I’m sorry,” Liam said, trying another tactic as he softened his voice, thinking that might goad her into actually speaking to him. “I didn’t mean what I said. You look fine.”
How did he expect her to respond to that? “Okay.”
Not taking his eyes off the road, Liam reached over, clasping her hand. The moment he did, she tried to pull free, but he held tighter, his grip painful—like he was daring her to try that again.
“You don’t have to make this difficult, Reagan.”
He was right about that, but she didn’t have to make it easy either. Instead of giving him what he wanted, Reagan let her arm go limp. There was no point in fighting him on it since he was significantly bigger than her, and probably wouldn’t mind using his strength to get that point across.
Liam fell silent, and she almost believed she had won that round until he hit the brake suddenly, sending her lurching forward, then back hard against her seat as they came to a stop.
She had barely looked in his direction before he grabbed ahold of her jaw, forcing her to face him.
“Don’t test my patience,” he said, his voice gone low as Reagan wrapped her fingers around his wrist and attempted to pull herself free, but he merely held fast. “You won’t like what happens.”
No, she was sure she wouldn’t.
She was also sure that she would have fingerprint-like bruises later on.
“Understand something, Reagan. I was trying to give you time, work through whatever bullshit you needed, but you don’t seem to be grasping what exactly it is I’m telling you. Now, be a good girl and do as I say, or I’ll give you a reason to be scared.”
Smashing his lips against her, he held himself there for a moment before the licking the seam of her lips, laughing once he finally let go and she got the chance to move away and wipe her mouth with the back of her hand.
Satisfied for the time being, Liam drove off without further incident, finally pulling into the lot of an old warehouse near the docks. Men in hardhats walked around the place, but they looked a little too on edge for them to actually work there, and if Reagan wasn’t mistaken, a number of them she had seen around Rourke a time or two.
While she might not have ever come to this place with Liam, she still noticed the way people stood a little straighter, walked a little faster, and tried to avoid him altogether. A couple of black sedans were parked near the garage bay, at least three men standing beside each, and when Liam parked in line beside them, they were the only few that didn’t look terrified of him.
Liam was out of the car first, circling around to open the door for her as well.
With a single look, he quelled whatever argument she thought to give when he reached for her hand, keeping hold of it as he walked them across the lot, not speaking to anyone as he went, even if they spoke to him.
His grip on her hand tightened slightly as he headed toward their destination with very little care as to what was happening all around them. Reagan, on the other hand, was taking everything in. At the very least so she wouldn’t have to think about what awaited her across the warehouse floor.
But she didn’t have too much time to prepare herself before she was standing inside an office with Liam at her side, his father and brother before her.
Upon first glance, Reagan could definitely see where Liam and Rourke had gotten their looks and their temperament. The man seemed to have a permanent scowl etched onto his face, and though he attempted a smile—for her sake, she thought—it only managed to make him look mildly annoyed. Though he was probably a good thirty years their senior, he still had a youthful look to his features, and had the build of a man that still worked out constantly.
Though Liam spoke of his father often, she didn’t know very much about him, only that he hadn’t approved of Liam and Rourke’s presences stateside—Liam and Rourke constantly argued about it. Rourke would have much preferred being back in Dublin, standing at his father’s side, but Liam had wanted something more, and right in Hell’s Kitchen was where he had found that ‘more,’ apparently.
“Who is this?” he asked, turning dark eyes on Liam. The question was simple enough, but the tone in which he used spoke of his true feelings.
She wasn’t the only one that didn’t want her there.
“Reagan, Donovan McCarthy. Da, Reagan, my girlfriend.”