The Criminal

Ch. 5: You almost got yourself killed, Nicole!

Hunter is so close. His breath warms my cheek as he leans in, preparing his lips for me. Peppermint invades my senses as his face nears mine, the gap between us slowly closing. My heart pounds as I focus on his lips, trying to make sense of my feelings. The man I'm staring at infuriates me and I don't want to want him, but I do. I do with every fibre of my being and that—more than anything—is dangerous. Not only does it jeopardise my career, but it also compromises Hunter's mental health. How can I council him if my tongue is halfway down his throat?

"Hunter—"

He stops short of kissing me, eyes a tropical whirlpool.

"We shouldn't."

The door to the office suddenly opens, revealing a young man in a suit. He can't be much older than me, though certainly doesn't allow his young age to translate into inexperience. Again, Hunter retreats into his shell, and I can't help but wonder why.

"You Hunter?"

He nods.

"I need a favour."

His thick Irish accent glides like honey, softening his otherwise deep baritone.

"Please," I interject.

Both Hunter and this man look at me, expression taut.

"Excuse me?" asks Irish.

"I need a favour, please," I clarify, teaching this man some manners.

"Nicole—" warns Hunter, physically stepping in front of me.

His eyes scream, "SHUT THE FUCK UP!"

Perhaps I should listen, but something about the way this man speaks to Hunter doesn't sit right. I don't know why, but I feel compelled to protect him.

"Usually when you need a favour, you follow it up with a please and a thank you."

Irish laughs, eyes creasing at the sides. "You're right. That was incredibly rude of me."

I smile.

"Do you know what I did to the last person who accused me of being rude?"

The atmosphere changes in an instant.

"I cut out his tongue."

He must be joking.

"That seems unnecessary," I counter.

Hunter tugs on my arm, pulling me against his body.

"You'll have to forgive Nicole," he explains, practically shielding me. "She's doesn't work here. She's not aware of the rules."

Irish nods, looking beyond Hunter to me.

"I see. Well, I suppose I can let it slide just this once."

"Thank you," I sarcastically reply.

I swear I can't fucking help myself.

"Nicole, is it?" he asks, stepping closer.

Hunter tenses, changing his stance. It's a subtle gesture, but I don't miss it. He's preparing to fight.

"Yes," I reply, squaring my shoulders. "What's your name?"

"I'm Torin," he informs, smirk sinister. "Torin O'Brien."

O'Brien.

I recognise that name. Everyone recognises that fucking name. The O'Briens are only the second largest crime family in London. The first are the Lowes and—

Fuck!

Hunter's boss had LOWES tattooed to his knuckles.

"Finally, she understands," speaks Torin, grinning.