Chapter Two
RONAN
If I wasn’t so pissed off, I’d be completely aroused by the sight of my wife holding a gun. There’s something about the sheer determination on her face that has my blood heating.
But then my attention is drawn back to the fucker who is staring her down like she’s a wounded animal, and I see red. I don’t give the asshole a chance to answer before I shoot him in the shoulder without even blinking.
The sound of the gunshot rings in my ears, and Ciara flinches as he crashes to the floor, groaning as he clutches his shoulder.
I walk slowly over to him, taking my time. Though as I pass Ciara, I gently brush my fingers against her lower back, silently letting her know that I’ve got this, that I’ve got her.
I hate that she’s having to witness this side of me, but I also don’t want to waste any more time. I need to take care of this fucker.
He’s still clutching at the wound in his shoulder, his face twisted in agony as he tries to shuffle backward.
But he and I both know he’s not getting away from me.
I crouch down in front of him and aim my gun once more; his eyes look as if they’re about to bug out of their sockets.
He opens his mouth, no doubt to beg and plead, but I don’t give him a chance before I fire again, shooting him right in the left kneecap.
He howls, his body jerking as blood pours from the wound. The sound is damn near feral, but it only fuels me.
He’s not hurting enough for what he’s done, but I’m also not ready to kill him. So, I take out the other kneecap.
The gun feels solid and steady in my hand as he writhes on the floor.
Just then, Brennan bursts through the door, and his eyes flick from the girls to the bloody mess on the floor. “You want him alive?”
“Yes.” I get to my feet. “Tie him up and make sure he doesn’t bleed to death. I want him breathing when I come back.”
Brennan doesn’t hesitate as he grabs some rope from one of the rusted shelves nearby and gets to work restraining the kidnapper.
Only then do I turn my attention to the girls.
Ciara is still clutching the gun in her shaking hands as she stares down at the guy on the floor. Her face is pale, but there’s such unwavering determination in her eyes that it almost sends me to my knees.
There’s my Tine Bheag. My little firecracker.
My wife.
Mila sits slumped in an old metal chair just behind Ciara, her own face pale and drawn, but she’s alive and breathing.
They both are.
I tuck my gun into the waistband of my pants and slowly step toward Ciara.
Her eyes lock with mine, and I let my expression soften as I reach out to take the gun from her hands. Her knuckles are white from holding it so tightly, but when I place my hands over hers, she relaxes and lets go completely.
I pocket the gun before wrapping my arms around her and pulling her against me without a word.
She lets out a small gasp as I hold her tightly, burying my face in her hair and breathing her in because a part of me still can’t believe that she’s all right. That I got to her in time.
“You’re okay,” I murmur as she clings to me, her body trembling.
I pull back just enough to look at her, tilting her chin up so our eyes meet.
Every emotion flashes across her face before I lean in and kiss her hard, as if somehow tasting her will erase how close I came to losing her.
Ciara kisses me back, opening her mouth and surrendering herself as everything else falls away until it’s just me and her.
When I finally pull back, the fear I felt at losing her gives way to the anger that has been simmering just beneath the surface ever since I found out she snuck out of the house when I specifically told her to stay put.
“What the hell were you thinking? You could have been killed. When the call cut out—”
I drag a hand through my hair, trying to stop myself from completely losing my shit at her. “I thought you were fucking dead, Ciara. Do you have any idea what that felt like?”
She opens her mouth, no doubt to apologize, but I don’t want to hear it right now. I’m too damn pissed to think straight.
I want to shake her for being so reckless. She has no idea how close she came to leaving this warehouse in a body bag, and that reality has a cold sweat breaking out on the back of my neck. But despite that, I can’t deny that part of me is fiercely proud of what she did to save her friend.
She’s braver than anyone I know. Stupidly brave, but brave all the same.
I exhale slowly as I reach out to cup her cheek, stroking my thumb over her soft skin before turning my attention to Mila.
“Are you okay?” I drop to my knees in front of her and work to undo the rope around her ankles.
I glance up and see Mila’s eyes fixed on her kidnapper, at the blood that is slowly staining the floor red.
“He’s not going to hurt you,” I assure her as I pull the rope free.
There are angry red burn marks on her ankles from the rope, which makes my stomach turn.
She should never have been caught up in this, and it’s thanks to Ciara that she’s walking out of here alive.
I work quickly to untie the rope from around Mila’s wrists, and when she’s finally free, her body sags, and I have to wrap an arm around her waist before she slides off the chair and hits the floor.
“Mila.” Ciara clings to her friend. “Oh, god.”
“Brennan, I’m taking the girls to the hospital,” I state as I take the brunt of Mila’s weight. “Don’t take your eyes off of him, do you hear me?”
“Don’t worry, he’s not going anywhere.” My brother lands a swift kick to his ribs.
The guy groans as he fights to stay conscious.
I turn to Mila. “Can you walk?”
She nods, her dark hair limp around her face as she gingerly takes a step. She’s weak, no doubt from dehydration, which is exactly why I want to take her straight to the hospital to get checked out.
Keeping an arm around Mila’s waist, I lead the girls back outside into the cold, frigid air.
She leans into me, her steps sluggish and uneven, but I don’t want to overstep by hauling her into my arms. So, I settle for taking as much of her weight as I can until we reach the waiting SUV.
I help her into the backseat, and Ciara climbs in beside her, her hand never loosening its hold on Mila’s.
Once the girls are buckled in, I slide into the driver’s seat and start the engine.
I’m quiet as I pull away from the warehouse and head back toward the city, not trusting myself to speak, because every time I look at Ciara through the rearview mirror, I see her stepping into that warehouse alone.
I see the gun in her hands. I see the possibility, the terrifying, gut-wrenching possibility, of losing her.
And Mila.
I glance at her now.
She’s staring blankly out the window, her hands trembling in her lap and her lips parted slightly like she’s still trying to process where she is. The poor girl is clearly in shock, not just from what happened to her, but perhaps from what she witnessed.
“Mila.” I keep my tone even and non-threatening. “What did you see?”
Ciara glares at me in the mirror. “She’s not talking about that right now.”
“She might know something—”
“She’s in shock, Ronan. Give her a second to breathe.”
I clench my jaw as I swallow a retort, but before I can push Mila further, she speaks up softly.
“It’s okay. If it helps you find who did this to Max… I’ll talk.”
I notice Ciara’s hand tighten on hers, but she doesn’t stop her.
I meet Mila’s gaze in the mirror. “I’ll do everything I can to catch them.”
She nods before taking a deep, shaking breath.
“I went to Max’s place. He hadn’t been answering my messages or calls, and I figured he just passed out or something. So, I took the spare key and decided to let myself in—”
Ciara and I stay quiet, giving her the space she needs to compose herself before continuing.
Her voice thickens with tears. “I found him. He was on the floor covered in…blood. There was so much—”
She inhales sharply, and my chest tightens as I think of the role I played in her brother’s death, of the memory of him bleeding on the floor that will forever be burned into her mind.
A sob cuts through her. “He was already gone. I-I think I screamed, but…”
I frown. “But?”
I meet Ciara’s gaze in the mirror once again, and her green eyes are filled with unshed tears.
“After that, I don’t remember much.”
“Nothing at all?”
“No… I-I must have blacked out or something.”
“What’s the next thing that you remember?” I feel bad for pressuring the girl to relive such a traumatic memory, but I need all the information I can get if I’m to find out who did this.
And Mila had a front-row seat to it, after all.
“The next thing I knew, I woke up, and I was tied to the chair.”
Mila’s voice breaks again, and Ciara wraps an arm around her shoulder, pulling her close as her body shakes with the force of her sobs.
Ciara is running her hand through Mila’s hair. “I heard screaming. Did they hurt you?”
“I-I’m fine.”
I keep my eyes on the road, but my hands tighten around the steering wheel like a vise as rage simmers under my skin.
“Chloroform. It sounds like they knocked you out fast because they didn’t want you remembering too much.”
“I didn’t see who it was.”
I force my voice to stay calm. “That’s okay. You’ve told me more than enough.”
It’s a lie, but I know it will help Mila feel better to think she’s been helpful.
But truth is, she didn’t witness the murder itself. She didn’t see who was the one to slice through Max’s throat, which means the trail is still cold. Unless, of course, Brennan manages to get the guy back at the warehouse to speak…
Even if he doesn’t, I won’t stop until I find out who did this. I owe Max that much, and I owe Mila more, considering the fact I was the last person to see her brother alive aside from his killer.