Having sex was not going to keep her from getting fucked. “Hello, Siobhan.” Her father was sitting on the end of her bed in the small space she rented in Hell’s Kitchen. “I’ve been waiting for you for quite some time.” She held her purse close, her hand dipping inside so her fingers could brush the smooth metallic surface of her bow. Though she didn’t think she’d be able to best her father in a one-on-one fight, it made her calmer to know her weapon was within reach. “Papa,” she said, shutting the door behind her. Eion O’Malley was a big man. Six and a half feet tall with a barrel chest and a bushy red beard, he looked more like a Viking warrior than a Gaelic gatekeeper. But more than anything he looked like a man you didn’t want to mess with, and Siobhan knew that wasn’t posturing. Her father was a dangerous man, and he had no soft spot in his heart for his only daughter. She was just another tool for him to use, and her usefulness was almost at an end, as far as he was concerned.
