Irish Luck

Chapter One

Stasia

"Get back here you fucking little bitch!" The guy chasing me down the darkened street howls at me.

At this point my heels are long gone and clutched in one hand with my bag in the other as I run through the streets. I probably look like a right state, as my hair billows in the wind and I'm pretty sure that my feet are black but running in heels was not going to be an option.

I can hear the guy huffing and puffing as he attempts to catch up with me and I swear when I last looked back he was the colour of tomato ketchup from how furious he was. Or maybe it was the exertion, either way he's clearly not finding this as amusing as I am right now.

Okay yes, I shouldn't have stolen his boss's wallet but in my defence he shouldn't have grabbed my arse. I feel it's fair retribution for his actions whereas he and his slow podgy body guard clearly don't share the same opinion.

I'm not even particularly having to exert myself to get away which is exactly why deciding to turn and give him the finger taking my eyes off the road ahead of me is a horrendous idea.

In fact I'm midway through giving him a shit eating grin when I suddenly hear screeching tyres and then the next thing I know I'm not only knocked off my feet but actually rammed into by a goddamn car sending me up into the air with my landing zone being directly onto the windscreen and bonnet.

The metal buckles underneath me with a groan and the windscreen shatters against the exposed skin of my back. If I hadn't had all the air knocked out of me I'd probably cry out from the pain that instantly radiates through my whole body. Instead I lay here completely dazed staring up at the stars in the sky as black dots start to shroud my vision.

For a moment I completely forget about the guy that was chasing me but I'm quickly brought back to reality when he grabs hold of me, heaves me off the car and slams my body down to the cold ground completely ignoring the way I shriek as all consuming pain crashes through my whole body.

I'm pretty sure something is broken and if the warm liquid I can feel trickling down the back of my head is anything to go by, I'm almost certain there's some kind of cut or injury there as well. But the injuries I have right now become a distant memory when the guy raises his fist in the air and doesn't even hesitate to bring it down, smashing it right into the side of my face.

Pain radiates across the left side of my face and the metallic taste of blood fills my mouth instantly. When I see his fist raise in the air again I can't help but close my eyes because I'd rather not see the next punch coming.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" a deep voice with a very distinctive Irish accent rumbles from above us and when I bravely open my eyes I'm met with a figure towering over us with his hand tightly gripped around the brute's wrist.

The guy's eyes widen with obvious fear and it doesn't take a genius to figure out that he knows whoever this is. Especially when I see the way he swallows hard before he responds.

"Blake er- erm I mean Mr O'Leary" the guy stutters and my stomach quite literally drops at hearing that name.

It being one that I recognise very well.

Could this day get any fucking worse?

There are three prominent families in Birmingham.

The O'Leary's being one of them, or better known as the Irish Mafia. There's the old timers like Faolan and his brother who both control one third of the city. With Faolan's four sons managing almost all of the operation.

Blake being son number two.

There's also the Italian family of the Rossi's, and my very own flesh and blood.

The Petrov's.

Also referred to as the 'Bratva'. I haven't spoken to them in 5 years.

At eighteen I was shunned, basically kicked out onto the street and told to fend for myself for something that wasn't even my fault. I was told if I ever even tried to go back or have anyone connected to my family help me then my father promised to kill me himself.

And I have no doubts that's exactly what he would have done, there's no question about it.

So when I left I did the only thing I could do. I survived.

I used what I grew up watching, and it's kept me alive. It hasn't been easy, and I've done a lot of things I'm really not proud of but ultimately I'm alive, living somewhat of a decent life and that's something I guess.

That I can be grateful for.

But with Blake looming over me like this I have a feeling that the life I've built for myself isn't going to mean much if he somehow manages to figure out who I am.

I haven't met him or any of his brothers before, but I know of them. I know exactly what they're capable of and what having Demitri's Petrov's one and only daughter in their possession could gain them.

Even though my vision still isn't quite right I can just about make out his features.

He's tall, like really fucking tall and from the wide set of his shoulders there's no doubting he's incredibly stacked too.

Everything about him is intimidating as hell and right now I have no idea if that's a good or a bad thing.

Blake doesn't even look at me or hesitate as he snaps the guys wrist back so ferociously I literally hear the bone break. He lets out a whaling kind of sound and buckles sideways off me with the assistance of Blake dragging him in that direction.

"S- She fuck she stole Leo's wallet" the guy cries, actually cries with tears running down his cheeks as he lies next to me with Blake crouched over him.

"She had to be dealt with" he then exclaims.

Blake's beautiful green eyes meet mine briefly before they pin the guy again.

"So you thought you'd beat the crap out of her?" He asks his thick brows pinching together and I quickly gather it's a rhetorical question, which numb-nuts clearly doesn't pick up on.

"She fucking deserved it" he grits out and I gather that wasn't the response that Blake wanted because his free hand fists and connects with the guys face with an almighty thud.

"We warned Leo that if another woman in this city ended up with bruises because of any connection to him I'd personally gut him myself" I distinctively pick up on his use of the word we and there goes my stomach dropping again.

We, as in him and his brothers.

Fuck

Blake brings himself down so he's eye level with the guy, who blubbers from the movement of his wrist that Blake still has a tight grip on.

"But maybe if I special wrap you I'm sure he'll get the message" he says through gritted teeth and the sadistic smile that spreads across his face is one of the most terrifying things I have ever seen.

Finally he lets go of the guy with a brutal shove and turns to speak to someone that I hadn't even noticed was there.

"Deal with him" he says to him.

He doesn't say anything back, instead he just nods and then the podgy little body guard is dragged away towards an idling car as he cries out.

I'm so dazed and in so much pain I startle when Blake kneels down next to me and brushes the pads of his fingers over my swollen cheek slightly.

"Are you okay?" He asks, actual concern there.

When I attempt to nod to say yes my stomach rolls and recoils, the next thing I know I'm turning my head towards him and projectile vomiting all over his trousers and shoes.

Yeah this day just gets better and better.

I quickly realise the best thing for me to do right now is get away from here and Blake as quickly as I can before he figures out who I am.

Somehow with a burst of adrenaline I manage to roll myself over but as I go to push myself up off the ground everything turns into a blur and the only thing I see next is the ground as my face hits it with force.