Chapter 19
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Bryan
T here’s a good chance the McGuires have just beat us to the target and have Siobhan Daley. I grind my teeth as I watch the drone footage, my need for revenge warring with my competitive need to win.
The fucking McGuires.
But really, as long as the bitch is put down, does it matter who ends her life?
It does. Fucking right, it does.
I want to look into her eyes when she realizes there is no lie she can tell and no seduction that will work to save her pathetic life. When she understands there is nothing left for her except the debt to pay for killing our da.
“How many are still alive?”
Kieran points to the screen of the laptop and shakes his head. “I think this guy and possibly this one are still breathing, but these two are the only ones with strong heat signatures. It’s hard to tell with all the fire.”
We watch as two men from the attacking force drag the person from the second floor of the farmhouse, hauling her toward the trees.
The farmhouse is going up like a torch, the attackers taking a page from my playbook and using rockets to blow the place up and take down the Sentinel force.
They may have had a fortress, but that team went in hard, and from what we can tell, only two of them made it out alive.
“Is it Siobhan?” I ask.
“Maybe. It’s impossible to tell with the whole place lit up with the fire.”
“What about photo imaging?”
“Hold on. Maybe the moonlight can catch them when they come out of the trees.” Kieran navigates the drone to follow the three as they flee the destruction of the farmhouse.
“Their movements are sloppy. Are they hit?”
“They’ve likely got a few holes in them somewhere. That was one hell of a firefight.”
It was. “If that really was a McGuire team, I’m impressed. I honestly didn’t think they had it in them.”
“It has to be Billy Gravely’s doing. He may be a psychotic fucker, but he’s got sway with some nasty mercenary types. My bet is that if this is them, it’s Gravely who put this together.”
That’s my read of the situation, too. Or maybe this has nothing to do with the McGuires and we’re witnessing something that has nothing to do with us or our mission to avenge my father’s murder.
“Do you think we could haul ass fast enough to intercept? Two on two would be nothing with the shape they’re in and us with the element of surprise.”
Kieran looks doubtful. “They’re headed in the opposite direction. If they get back to their car before we get to them, we’ll have to double back and we’ll lose time.”
That’s true, I just hate doing nothing.
“There. They’re coming out of the trees. I’ll flip off the thermal imaging.” Kieran flicks a switch and then the picture on the laptop flips to photo imaging.
It’s dark and because there is still no moon to light up the night, the image is grainy. “I’m pretty sure it is a woman.”
I grunt. “Or a wee man. Or an alien.”
“I don’t think it’s an alien. There would’ve been more government types if they captured E.T.”
I roll my eyes, but that one’s on me. I brought up the aliens. Leaning closer, I try to will the image on the screen to magically come into focus.
No such luck. The threesome is practically swallowed up by shadow no matter how close I stare at the screen. There’s just no way to tell if it’s her.
The body of their target is smaller than the two of them. They’re dragging her, limp but alive. They probably knocked her out for easier travel.
She was fighting with fists and feet when they first grabbed her, but now she’s slung over the shoulder of one of the men.
“Watch as he tosses her into the car. See if you can get a good shot of her face.”
Kieran adjusts the drone, tracking them as they load the body into the trunk of the vehicle before peeling away from the ruins of the farmhouse.
“Did you get it? Is it her?”
“Working on it.” Kieran jumps into the back seat of the SUV and grabs the laptop. “Hurry, you drive. I’ll use the drone to track them, but we need to get moving. Depending how far they go, the battery will die and we’ll need to change it on the fly if we expect to keep these assholes in our sights.”
Shit. I hadn’t thought of that. I jump into the driver’s seat and start the engine. “All right. Tell me where I’m going.”
* * *
Harper
The kettle hisses, a warning in the quiet hotel suite as I pace from one end to the other, chewing the inside of my cheek. It’s been ages since the farmhouse was attacked and the surviving two men left the Sentinel compound dragging someone from the house.
I watched the building and the cars burn for the first half-hour, waiting to see if Kieran and Bryan entered the compound to assess the damage.
They didn’t.
I assume that’s because they went after the ones who fled. I have no way of knowing where they went or if they’re in trouble. I check my phone, but there’s no reply from my last two texts. I don’t want to distract him if things are intense for him, but I’m genuinely worried.
We’re friends, after all.
And I’m invested in his search for the woman and his quest for justice for his family. He still hasn’t told me exactly what Siobhan did, but I know there’s bad blood between her and his oldest brother, Tag. And I know she caused the shooting between Tag’s right-hand man and one of the McGuires—ending with Declan McGuire dead.
Bryan’s life is literally a life-or-death situation.
Which—who are we kidding—normally, I would thrive on and be all for the adrenaline pulsing through my veins—but this feels different.
In the past five days Bryan and I have fallen into a companionable partnership. We make a good team. My calm analytic nature is a good counterweight to his passionate need to make things happen—aka beating on bad guys.
But hey, I’m all for beating on bad guys.
It may seem odd to someone like Logan or Kieran looking at us from the outside, but we’re friends.
I make another pacing loop of the suite, glaring at my phone. Nothing. Bryan hasn’t texted. No updates.
I run my hands through my hair, which after the past hour is likely standing on end, rivalling the crazy nest of hair Einstein is famous for.
The beep of the security pad has me spinning toward the door, heart racing.
The door bursts open, and Bryan strides in, soaked from the rain, hair a mess, black T-shirt plastered to his chest. His gaze locks with mine, and I’m across the floor and in the air.
He catches me as my legs wrap around his hips and my lips press against his mouth. He’s alive and though he’s wet and looks bedraggled, he smells like leather and sin, like always.
Thank his Celtic goddess.
Lost in the relief of knowing he’s alive, I miss the tension in his kiss until he pulls back. Something dark in his emerald gaze doesn’t bode well, and I drop to my feet and ease back.
Right. Greeting him like a needy koala went beyond the parameters of us being friends.
I take a step back and give the man some space. “Sorry. I’ve been worried. What happened?”
He exhales hard and closes the door behind him. “The assault team was well-armed. Trained. Whoever they came for, they had the kind of firepower ye don’t waste unless yer after someone important.”
My stomach knots. “Was it Siobhan?”
“We still don’t know.” He pulls off his wet jacket and tosses it on the kitchen counter. “We think it was a woman, but we haven’t seen her face yet. Two men grabbed her after the firefight ended.”
“Did you recognize either of them? Could they have been from the rival family from the other side of the river in Dublin?”
“No, but if Billy Gravely is arming his own army outside McGuire rule—which we believe he is—the men he sent wouldn’t be McGuire men. Us not recognizing them doesn’t mean anything either way.”
He notices the bags sitting by the door and looks at me surprised. “Good girl. How’d ye know?”
“I figured the farmhouse is blown. No matter what happens next, we’re on the move, right?”
He tilts his head and arches an ebony brow. “We’re a ‘we’ now, are we?”
I nod slowly, dread pooling in my chest. “I’m invested in you finding Siobhan and when you find her, you’re still going to help me take down Eddie and his sex auctions, right?”
He dips his chin. “Aye, we are. I gave my word, and my word is my bond.”
I swallow. Okay, good. I got a little freaked out there that I missed something and was getting played.
If Bryan notices my moment of insecurity, he doesn’t let on. He bends to his bag, opens the zipper, and grabs a dry T-shirt. He removes his gun holster, swaps shirts, and has his gun and his jacket back on in no time.
“Are ye ready then?”
I jog over to the table, slot my laptop into my bag, and sling it over my shoulder. Next, I close his and pull the plug for his charger and bring it to him by the door. “Ready. Where are we off to?”
Bryan sets his laptop inside his duffle. “Kieran flew the drone from the passenger seat, and we tracked them to an out of the way roadside inn. It’s a quiet place, middle of nowhere.”
“You left him there alone?”
Bryan straightens, picking up his and Kieran’s duffle bags as well as Kieran’s shopping bags. “Och, alone isn’t a concern. He’s got an arsenal of firepower if he needs it and a clean sightline to their room. He’ll be fine.”
Still, after seeing the violence of the evening on the camera feed, I don’t like the idea of him being on his own. Kieran may be gruff and less than enthusiastic about me being around, but he’s grown on me.
After one last scan of the hotel suite, I grab my suitcase and open the door. “So, he sent you back for your stuff?”
Bryan gives me an annoyed look. “Kieran doesn’t send me to do anything. I’m his boss. And no, our stuff needed to be collected, sure, but yer the one I came for. We’ve got a window while these guys patch themselves up before they move again.”
“So, you need to ID Siobhan and make your move before that happens.”
“Aye, that’s the idea.”
The two of us are out of the room and striding down the hall a moment later. I press the button to call the elevator and the doors open, still on our floor from Bryan’s arrival.
The lobby is quiet as we pass through, and I pause at the automatic doors. It’s really pissing down. “Where did you park?” I ask, looking for the black Range Rover we’ve used all week.
Bryan points a key fob toward a silver BMW parked opposite the entrance and its lights flash. “This is us.”
I duck my head as we run to the car, icy drops pelting the back of my neck. Once I’ve deposited my stuff on the back seat, I slip into the shotgun seat in the front. When Bryan is finished loading his bags, he settles in behind the steering wheel.
“Where did you get this car?”
Bryan casts a sideways glance at me, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Do you really want to know?”
“If I didn’t, I wouldn’t have asked.”
He shrugs, pressing the start button as the engine hums to life. “I stole it from a used car lot down the road from the inn.”
I blink. “You what?”
Whatever he sees in my expression makes him very amused. He laughs, putting the car in gear as we pull away into the pouring rain. “Relax. I’ll fill the tank, wipe it down, and leave it right where I found it. I couldn’t risk leaving Kieran without wheels in case something goes sideways and our targets bolt.”
Of course not. I’m not sure what surprises me more—that he stole a damn car, or that he told me the truth so casually.
I sit back in the seat, staring out the windshield as the wipers work to clear our view. Wait. Whoa. I sit up. “Are the seats heated?”
“They are.”
I sit back again, luxuriating in the radiant heat warming my butt and back. After being in the icy rain, it’s quite nice. “Well, at least you didn’t steal a beater.”
Bryan chuckles. “A car thief has to have standards.”
I look at him, my nerves still edgy from everything he just told me, from everything we’re about to walk into. “Tell me I’m not crazy for getting involved in all this.”
He glances up, green eyes flashing in the dim light. “Ye want me to lie to ye now?”
I huff a laugh, more breath than sound. “No. Never.”
This is insane. Following a mafia enforcer into the dark, chasing down a woman I don’t even know, tangled in something bigger and uglier than I ever imagined.
But I’ve come this far.
Because a deal is a deal. I help him track down Siobhan and he helps me with Eddie Mason and maybe—just maybe—I’ll find out what happened to Macie, Chantal, Zhara, and who knows how many other women.
Would it be possible for me to find out on my own? Possibly, but my odds are better with his help than without it. Still, I can’t help the driving thought that whispers in the back of my mind as we’re swallowed by the darkness.
What if I’m wrong?
About him. About this arrangement.
About everything.