Keira
Bran’s hooves strike hard on the earth as we near Black Heath Stud.
Yard noise travels toward us as he slows to a trot. Doors slam, engines idle, and men shout back and forth.
Steering his horse through the open field gate and stopping him near the barn, Saint swings down from the saddle.
I follow a second later, my boots hitting the concrete as Shay approaches, already speaking.
“North side’s clear. East boundary’s covered. We’ve got two guys out past the ridge—”
“Keep them there.” Saint hands off the reins. “No one’s getting into the yard without me saying so.”
Shay nods and leads Bran to the barn.
I do a one-eighty on the spot, watching it unfold, the way everyone holds together under pressure, not falling apart but tightening.
Rafe comes in from the far side, cigarette already lit, his gaze running over me before it settles on Saint.
“Ya got anything?” Saint asks.
Rafe exhales a cloud of smoke.
“Not yet,” he replies. “We’ll find her. And if we don’t, this one pays the price.”
His gestures to me and glares.
“What about her?” he asks, his expression twisted. “Does she know where her da’s taken Sera?”
Saint angles himself closer to me and stares at his brother.
“How would she know? We’ve had Keira with us this whole time.”
“Keira?” Rafe makes a face at him. “Since when did ya start—”
“Using her fucking name, Rafe?” Saint grits. “Don’t be an asshole.”
I steel my spine, meeting Rafe’s icy stare. “Riley handled that side of things for my father. He was the one who followed his orders. I wasn’t involved.”
Rafe exhales smoke through his nose, not satisfied.
“Of course ya weren’t. What about Fionn?” he goes on. “Your brother isn’t squeaky clean.”
“You’ll have to ask him that.” I fold my arms across my chest. “We haven’t spoken much since I lived away from home.”
He takes a step toward me, closing the gap in a way that’s meant to be intimidating, except I raise my chin and meet him head-on.
“You’ve been wandering around here like Saint’s fucking queen while your da’s out there doing whatever the hell he wants.”
I hold his gaze and clench my jaw, the truth about my father chipping away at me, and the accusation of my being Saint’s queen ridiculous.
“Watch your fuckin’ mouth, Rafe.” Saint moves between us, his fist clenching his brother’s jacket. “In case ya hadn’t heard, she’s been living away from home. The girl isn’t like them. Focus on finding Sera. Head to Ma’s for the meeting.”
Rafe’s expression hardens, irritation still there, but he doesn’t argue.
“That one’s not as innocent as she lets on,” Rafe says. “You’re just dick blind, mate.”
“Ya wanna start something, little brother?” The edge in Saint’s tone sends a prickle of unease over my scalp.
For a second, Rafe’s expression contorts as if he’s about to unleash a storm, then he drags on his cigarette, holds it, and lets it out slowly before stepping back.
“Fine,” he mutters, and his gaze clashes with mine. “I meant what I said. If Sera’s hurt, she’ll get treated the same way.”
Saint’s fists clench as Rafe pivots and stalks across the yard, disappearing into shadow.
“Stick to my side,” he bites out over his shoulder, already moving in the same direction. “You’re about to walk straight into the fire.”
I freeze. “What do you mean?”
He stops and glances over his shoulder, the light catching only one side of his face.
“We’re going to Ma’s house for a family meeting.”
“No way. I’ll wait out here.”
Saint retraces his steps, snares my wrist, and tightens his fingers around it.
“You’re a smart girl, Keira,” he says, his thumb pressing into the pulse beneath my skin. “You know you’re in enemy territory and my sister disappearing has caused a shitstorm. I’m the only safety net ya have.”
My heart pumps faster when he yanks me to his side and pulls me with him.
“Are you even that?” I ask, a little breathless.
His pace doesn’t slow as he guides me out of the yard and along the uneven path, heading toward Máirín’s house that I’ve only ever seen in the distance.
“I’m all you’ve got, princess,” he says in a low rumble as we climb a couple of wooden steps to the porch. “People know better than to go up against me.”
The front door swings open before we reach it. Dane stands in the light, his gaze jumping from Saint to me, his arms folded.
“The pet stays outside,” he mutters. “Chain her to a post if you’re worried she’ll run.”
Saint’s grip on my wrist tightens as we walk straight for the entrance.
“Move,” he orders.
After a beat, Dane steps aside, and we cross over the threshold, where the smell of liquor and cigarette smoke hits fast, followed by a wave of heat.
We reach a wide kitchen with a central oak table and men seated around it, maps spread out between mugs and ashtrays.
Máirín sits next to the only unoccupied chair, a cigarette in her fingers. Her forehead creases when her gaze settles on Saint’s fingers cuffing my wrist.
“This is a private meeting, Ciarán,” she says. “Get rid of the girl and take your seat.”
The room falls silent while Saint moves to the chair, pulls it out from under the table, sits, and drags me onto his lap with a firm yank.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” Rafe mutters a few seats down.
I lock my spine as every eye in the room burns holes in my seated position on Saint Tallon’s knee.
Part of me hates the attention, whereas the other part is tingling all over.
“There aren’t enough seats for everyone,” Saint points out. “This conversation involves her too. Does anyone have a problem with that?”
The bearded guy next to me slams a hand on the table, the bang loud before he drags his cap off. “You bet I have a fucking problem sitting around the table with a Harrington whore. Her da destroyed my—”
Saint’s hand moves at speed. His gun is out and level with Jake’s head before the rest of the room catches up.
“You have three seconds to apologize, Jake.”
Jake clenches his jaw, and he looks over at Máirín.
“Havin’ the girl here is causin’ trouble, Ciarán,” she says under her breath. “Remove her.”
“One,” Saint begins.
The word drops into the silent room after Máirín’s order.
Jake’s throat works as he swallows, his jaw muscles ticking as he raises his eyebrows at Máirín instead of the gun.
“She can’t help ya, Jake,” Saint grits. “Get on your knees and say you’re fucking sorry.”
Jake doesn’t move, except for his eyes. They move to me and narrow as if I’m his worst enemy. I’ve never met this man in my life.
“Two.”
Jake’s chair scrapes back as he sinks to the tiles, slower than he should, but he still ends up kneeling.
“Sorry, Saint,” Jake mutters.
Saint keeps his aim, and the silence holds long enough that no one speaks. Máirín exhales through her nose but doesn’t say another word.
Dane blows out a loud breath and drags a hand through his hair.
“Can we just focus on finding Sera?”
He leans over the table, tapping a spot on the map.
“She was here last. At the store,” he says. “Apparently, she spoke with Crowley junior before she went in. He said she was going to meet Eilish for a drink.”
Shay shifts beside him, arms folded, eyes fixed on the same point.
“Eilish called. Sera never showed up. We’ve got lads watching Harrington’s men,” he adds. “Nothing yet. No sign of her.”
Saint lowers his gun and slots it away in the holster under his jacket while Jake returns to his seat and lights a cigarette.
“Any footage from the store’s cameras?” Saint asks.
“Apparently, the front camera’s been out for weeks,” Shay replies. “We’ve got nothing.”
“And inside Harrington’s place?”
Dane shakes his head. “We can’t get in there without stepping over the line.”
I sit on Saint’s lap, not fully in the conversation, not fully out, as my attention wanders to the map, on the shape of the land laid out in front of them and the conversations I’d heard over the years.
My mind races back in time to when I was a teen, my back pressed to the wall outside my father’s office while voices carried from inside.
He never brought problems home to our house. There was another place where he’d send Riley to sort things out, somewhere remote.
That night I’d heard my father ask where they buried the guy…and why had it gone that far. Riley fobbed him off with an excuse, saying he hadn’t meant for it to end like that.
My father’s reply rings out in my head: he directed Riley so nothing could be traced to him.
Back then, I rationalised it. Told myself Riley was the murderer. Not my father. I put it out of my head and hugged my father the next day when he handed me the keys to a custom white Range Rover after I’d passed my driving test.
The Tallon kitchen snaps into focus again.
I don’t want to be part of this family feud, and I sure as hell don’t want my father’s men to hurt Sera.
Dane’s talking as Saint’s thumb strokes my thigh, out of sight, the sensation ever so slight but very much there.
“He wouldn’t bring her to our home,” I say out loud, noticing how the gentle back and forth movement stops mid-stroke. “There’s a place outside of Black Heath where Riley would go.”
The room goes quiet.
Every head turns.
Máirín’s cigarette stills halfway to her mouth. Dane straightens. Shay’s gaze jumps to me.
Saint angles me around, his hand coming up to pinch my jaw in his fingers, securing my face before him so I can’t look anywhere else.
“Keep talking,” he says.
I swallow, forcing my thoughts into line.
“I mean…I don’t know if she’s there. It’s…somewhere I’ve heard mentioned in the past, when I was younger,” I tell him, thankful to be turned away from everyone else’s scrutiny. “Donnelly’s old cattle sheds out in the hills. It might be worth checking.”
Behind me, Dane speaks first, “What if it’s a trap?”
Saint doesn’t look away from me.
“What if it’s not?” His answer rumbles through me.
“My father wouldn’t expect me to know about that place, and he certainly wouldn’t think I’d tell you.”
There’s a flicker of something behind his eyes. I can’t tell what he’s thinking, but the intensity of his gaze gives me goosebumps.
“We hit it tonight,” he says. “Every second counts.”
As chair legs scrape, Saint releases me and stands, making sure I’m steady on my feet before he looks at everyone else.
“If she’s not there, we regroup immediately,” he continues.
Rafe stands and tugs a baseball cap into his head.
“I’ll check it out with Dane,” he says. “If it’s an ambush, and we get busted up, kill every fucking Harrington in Black Heath.”
Rafe makes a gun shape wart his fingers and points it right at me.
My lungs cramp.
What if I’m wrong?