CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
KIERAN
HAZEL SITS NEXT to me, her body close enough that the scent of her skin lingers in my nose—a mix of vanilla and something else entirely her. My gaze flickers down to her lips, and I can’t help but lean in. I wait, giving her the chance to stop me, to push me away like she probably should. But she doesn’t. Her wide green eyes watch me, so innocent, so open, and for a second, it feels like she’s here just for me. Like she’s mine.
I close the distance, brushing my lips against hers. Warm, soft, and perfect—exactly how I imagined. My hand stays on her thigh, her warmth bleeding through my fingers as if she could set me on fire. My mind drifts for a second, picturing those thighs wrapped around my waist, her body arching into mine. The thought sends a jolt of heat through me, and with my free hand, I cradle her neck and pull her closer, deepening the kiss. Her soft groan vibrates into my mouth, and for a moment, everything else disappears. No enemies. No threats. Just Hazel. Just this.
Then, of course, Charlie’s paws scuff across the floor. I grit my teeth, wishing the dog would leave us alone for once. But he doesn’t. His head nudges against my hand where it rests on Hazel’s thigh, and Hazel’s laugh bubbles into my mouth, breaking the kiss. I lean back, breathing hard, and look down at the traitorous dog. Charlie’s staring up at us, tongue hanging out, looking way too pleased with himself.
At the same time, we both reach down to rub his head, Hazel’s fingers brushing against mine. Her laughter is still in the air, light and contagious, and I swear it almost makes me forget why I need to step away from this moment.
Almost.
I glance at her again, and her gaze is on me—soft, questioning, but trusting. I press a quick kiss to her forehead, needing the contact before reality seeps in again.
“I need to make a call,” I say, my voice rougher than I intended.
She licks her lips, as if she can still taste me, and nods. “Okay.”
I rise and grab my phone, dialing Lee as I pace toward the window. The room feels too warm, my blood still thrumming with everything I want but can’t have. Lee answers after the third ring.
“I need you to decrypt a SIM,” I tell him, keeping my tone sharp and to the point.
Lee groans. “Kieran, you’re dragging me into something messy again, aren’t you? Patrick would kill me if—”
“I know,” I cut him off. “But this might save your ass, too. Trust me.”
A long pause. I can almost hear him weighing his options, and I know he doesn’t have many.
“Fine. Send it through,” he says.
I do, tapping on the screen as I send the encrypted data. While I wait, I glance over my shoulder. Hazel’s crouched down by the first-aid kit, organizing the supplies. Charlie is right at her side, his head brushing against her leg every time she moves. Every few minutes, she reaches down to scratch behind his ears without even thinking, like it’s second nature. A smile tugs at the corner of my mouth. She fits here—too well.
Lee’s voice draws my attention back to the call.
“Got it,” Lee says. His voice is tighter now, more serious. “Wow. It looks like you hit the jackpot.” He states. “It’s filled with messages”. I look at the screen briefly, but the messages confirm. “The O’Donnell gang was hired by a third party to kidnap Mary. They failed, but they’re not giving up. The messages suggest they’ve shifted tactics.”
I clench the phone tighter, the weight of his words sinking in. “What do you mean?”
“They’re using Hazel as bait,” Lee explains. “They’re banking on Mary coming out of hiding to save her friend. And once they have her, they’ll strike the Walsh family.”
I take a breath, slow and steady, as my mind processes the new intel. The O’Donnells aren’t just a threat—they’re an immediate one. And Hazel, whether she realizes it or not, is the key to their plan. But now, I have something they didn’t expect: explosive proof of their involvement.
This isn’t just leverage. It’s our way out. I can use this to buy Hazel’s safety. And mine.
“Good,” I tell Lee. “This is exactly what I need to bring to Patrick.”
“Kieran.” Lee’s voice sounds hushed now. “Man, you better do it soon. He’s not happy, and neither are his sons. Everyone is antsy since Hazel is still alive and could start talking at any moment.”
“I know where she is. I’m going to get her and finish this,” I say.
I hang up and turn to Hazel. She’s still in the kitchen, but now she’s watching me, her hand resting on Charlie’s head. I stride over to her, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. Her eyes search mine, probably sensing the shift in my mood.
“We’ve got what we need,” I murmur, voice low.
Her lips part like she’s about to ask something, but I can’t give her answers yet. Not until I’m sure she’s safe. For now, she just needs to trust me. And for the first time in a long time, I want to believe someone will.
I press another kiss to her forehead, longer this time. “Let me take care of this. I’m getting us out of here.”
And this time, I mean it.
I pull out the second phone, the one I’ve been using to stay in contact with Mary. The screen lights up, the familiar thread of messages blinking at me, but I don’t need to keep pushing her anymore. If she hasn’t deposited the money by now, it doesn’t matter. It would’ve been a nice sum—enough to start fresh, away from all of this—but things have changed. Money can’t solve this problem.
I turn the phone over in my hand, my thumb tracing the edge of the cheap plastic casing. Instead of focusing on Mary, my attention shifts to the burner phone sitting on the table, the one loaded with evidence that’ll suggest Sean was planning to use Hazel for ransom. It’s all there, just enough breadcrumbs to lead Patrick exactly where I want him to go. Sean was talking to someone, making plans that never panned out. The trail will lead to a dead end, of course—it has to. But Patrick doesn’t need to know that.
Now, with the new intel Lee gave me, I have more than enough to convince Patrick. The O’Donnell gang wanted Mary all along, just like he suspected. And now I can hand him what he needs to finish the job. In return, I’ll ask for what I need—my freedom. Hazel’s freedom.
If he agrees, we’re gone. No more looking over our shoulders. No more running. If he refuses?
I’ll deal with that when the time comes.
My hand tightens around the phone, and I exhale through my nose, forcing the tension out of my chest. The one thing I know for certain is we can’t stay here. They’ll keep coming, wave after wave, until they finally overwhelm us. I won’t let that happen.
I glance over my shoulder. Hazel is sitting at the table with the blood-soaked tea towel I used earlier in her hands; Charlie sits at her feet, his head resting on her leg as if he senses something is wrong. I swallow the lump in my throat and turn back to the burner phone.
We need to be ready—everything cleaned, packed, and burned if necessary.
I walk to the small table in the corner and grab my other phones, all of them. There’s a certain finality in wiping the data clean, erasing every trace of my presence. But this isn’t the first time I’ve done it, and it won’t be the last. As I scroll through the settings, my mind runs through the next steps.
We’ll pack what we can carry. The rest gets left behind. I won’t risk leaving a trail. One more stop before I face Patrick and plead my case.
If it goes right, Hazel and I get out alive.
If it doesn’t? Well, I’ve never been one to back down from a fight.
Before I start wiping the phones, something nags at me—a need to check. Just to be sure. I grab the phone connected to the account I’d been hounding Mary about and pull up the banking app. My breath catches when the balance flashes on the screen: one million euros.
She actually did it. Mary wired the money. I blink, half-expecting the numbers to disappear, but they don’t. The money’s sitting there, real and untouchable. For a second, I don’t move. I should feel satisfaction, maybe even relief. Instead, all I feel is suspicion crawling under my skin like a warning I can’t shake.
The messages come in next, pinging on the screen one after another. I swipe through them, skimming the desperate tone hidden behind her clipped sentences. Drop Hazel off at Old Man's farm near Monalty. Tomorrow.
I sit down, dragging a hand over my jaw as I read the message again. I know the place she’s talking about—a quiet stretch of countryside with more abandoned barns than people. Plenty of places to stage an ambush. My gut tightens. There’s no way this is clean. Mary wouldn’t have handed over that kind of money without making sure there was a safety net waiting for her.
The drop-off location is a trap. I’m sure of it. The place will be surrounded, and Walsh’s men will be lying in wait for Hazel—and me. They’ll think they’ve won, that I’m desperate enough to take the bait.
But I won’t be there.
They can sit in that field all night for all I care. I’m not handing Hazel over, and I’m sure as hell not walking into a setup that’ll get us both killed. If they want to come after me, they’ll have to try harder.
I set the phone down and lean back in the chair, staring at the ceiling. This changes everything. The money gives me options—options I didn’t have before. But it also complicates things. Mary’s sudden desperation, her willingness to fork over a million euros, tells me she’s scared. And scared people do reckless things.
“What’s wrong?” Hazel’s voice breaks through my thoughts.
I don’t answer right away. Instead, I reach for her hand and pull her closer, needing the warmth of her skin against mine to ground me. Her fingers tighten slightly, as if she can feel the storm building inside me.
“I need you to trust me,” I say, voice low. “No matter what happens next, trust me.”
Her brows knit together, but she nods. “I do.”
The weight of her words hits me harder than I expected, but I can’t afford to dwell on it. I let go of her hand and rise to my feet, the plan already forming in my mind.
I’m taking Hazel somewhere safe. Then I’m going to Patrick, armed with the intel, and the burner phone. If he has any sense, he’ll see the O’Donnells for the threat they are and let us go.
If not…well, there’s a reason I’ve survived this long.