Chapter 40
TOOTH AND NAIL
Raven
I see the car ahead with absolutely no sign of AJ anywhere in this shit-hole. “Where is he?”
The roar of Jay’s engine through the earpiece loud and clear; he’s a little ahead of me and seems to be closing in on the car.
“Not a clue; I lost him when he cut through the alley,” Jay responds just as casually as you would place an order at a McDonald’s drive-through.
“For fuc—watch out!” I slam on the brakes and hit an oil patch that sends both me and my new bike skidding across the pavement, aiming for the bumper of Jay’s car.
Jay swerves just in time to miss her.
Ciara’s scream is louder than the screeching tyres, she narrowly avoids being hit by my rogue Suzuki Hayabusa.
Pulling myself up from the ground, I see Ciara running towards me. “She was right behind me! She was right fucking behind me!” She collapses into my arms, a bloodied, howling heep.
“Where? Where is she?” I demand, hearing the roar of AJ’s Kawasaki through the earpiece, he can hear us, just as I can hear him breathing heavily on the other end of the line.
Ciara points to a derelict building across the street, tears streaming down her face as she turns to take off.
“Woah.” I grab her by the hips and pull her back. “You’re in no shape to be running anywhere.”
“They have my sister!” She fights against my grip, desperation in her eyes.
“And you,” I stop myself before saying that she looks like the elephant man.
Her face is cut, swollen, bruised, and covered in blood.
Thankfully, I don’t have to think of a better way to put it.
The car we’ve been chasing pulls up outside the building, and just as the driver kills the engine, an enormous green blur streaks past us, heading straight for the car.
AJ pulls on the handlebars of his Kawasaki, lifting the front wheel off the ground as he hits a ramp and sails through the air.
It seems to happen in slow motion; AJ hits the ground in a tumble and his bike smashes through the windscreen of the car, killing the driver instantly.
“Don’t have to worry now; he’s got it,” is all I can think to say, pulling Ciara closer as the shit storm begins to unfold.
* * *
KATIE
I kick and claw at every surface around me, desperate to cling onto anything solid and avoid going back to that room. Ciara got out. She got out; even if I don’t, that’s all that matters.
They would have taken us both. I saw them coming, and I knew I had to do something. I got one, just one—the guy that was eating the chicken fillet roll earlier.
The other took off after my sister, while the arsehole that stole my finger has been fighting me tooth and nail—literally. I’ve lost three fingernails to a doorjamb, the floorboards, and an old counter, and at least one tooth went flying when he punched me in the face.
His chubby fingers claw at my hair and yank me backwards. Turning into his grip, I manage to elbow him in the stomach; his grip loosens enough that I chance my arm at a run, only his hand closes into a fist, and my neck snaps back, my legs giving out from under me.
One large boot connects with my ribs, knocking the wind out of me.
Christ, I think he broke something.
Another boot lifts my abused body off the ground and sends my back crashing against the sharp edge of the corner wall. The pain is excruciating, shooting through my body like a bolt of lightning.
The guy pulls out something, though my now-one-good eye can’t quite make out what it is, with black swirls of darkness clouding my vision. I can feel blood trickling down my face as he edges closer. “I’m goin’ to ask you one last time.”
A knife. It’s definitely a knife.
“Where is he?”
“Here I am,” an all too familiar purr sounds behind him, I spot the glint of a blade in my peripheral vision.
Aiden is no bodybuilder. His sculpted physique is more like that of a panther, sleek and deadly, but try telling the guy he has just lifted off the ground with one hand.
As I shift to my side, my eyes catch sight of the knife that the arsehole dropped. I grip the handle with my mutilated hand, summoning my strength to lift myself off the ground.
A scream pierces the air. A sudden surge of adrenaline courses through me as I witness the struggle unfold before my eyes.
My vision clears just enough for me to see my fiancé grappling with my assailant, his fingers digging into his opponent’s eyes with a ferocity that draws blood, mirroring the crimson stream flowing from his own nose.
The bastard must have gotten a lucky hit in while I was pushing myself to my feet. It hurts to breathe.
Movement from my right catches my attention, a hooded figure runs towards us. “Aiden!”
I can’t move quick enough to warn him before he’s tackled to the ground.
It’s the other arsehole who tried to catch Ciara. He brandishes a knife from his waistband and thrusts it towards Aiden’s chest.
Aiden moves in time to stop the blade, to the detriment of his right hand. The blade drives through his palm, causing him to cry out. The guy raises the knife once more, targeting Aiden’s throat.
I don’t think, I just lunge forward, driving the knife in my hand into the attacker’s neck and back. He falls to the side, and I follow him to the floor.
The knife handle quickly becomes slick with blood. I continue to stab him again and again and again, until I cannot lift my arms.
Aiden is swift about crushing the windpipe of the dickhead that almost beat me to a bloody pulp before he takes the knife from me and tosses it aside.
“Bug,” he whispers, pulling me away from the lifeless body and into his arms.
Tears stream down my face; anger, relief, and exhaustion all swirl together in a confusing whirlwind of emotions. I take one last look at the bodies on the floor and scramble to be free of Aiden’s hold.
“Katie?”
“He stole my ring!” I yell, stumbling down the hallway to look for it.
“I’ll get you a new—”
“And a digit!” I almost fall on my arse as I spin, holding up my mutilated hand for him to see.
I want my finger back!
My legs give way and I collapse onto the ground, sobbing uncontrollably.
Aiden rushes to my side, picking me up and cradling me in his arms. “Bug, it’s ok. It’s ok, baby. I’m here. You’re safe.”
“My pinky,” I weep, only to realise that I’m crying for the wrong finger. “I’m a freak,” I sniff, feeling a surge of self-pity wash over me.
Aiden smirks, taking my hand and placing it on his. I can see right through his palm. “Me too,” he says softly, kissing my forehead. “Come on, bug.” He pushes himself to his full height, carrying me bridle-style out of this dark place and into the light.
Moore is outside, with at least six garda cars surrounding the building.
“Aiden Quinn!” one of the gardaí shouts. “Put your hands behind your—”
“Fuck off,” Aiden grunts, not missing a beat. He marches towards Detective Moore, kicking his car door when he doesn’t get the hint to open it for us. “Hospital, now.”
Moore quickly opens the door, allowing Aiden to slide into the backseat with me cradled in his arms.
“Raven!” Aiden roars as Moore slams the car door shut. “Get her finger!”
Pulling my head from his chest, I demand, “Ciara?”
“Is fine, bug. She’s fine,” Aiden reassures me, stroking my blood soaked hair as the car speeds off for the hospital.
“You know,” I hear Moore say as he accelerates, “I have orders to take you in.”
“Do what you want after we get her to the hospital,” Aiden replies firmly.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper weakly, feeling my strength fading as the pain intensifies. “I ruined our wedding.”
“I don’t want to ever hear you say that again,” Aiden grunts, shifting in the seat. “This was not your fault, baby. It’s mine.”
“You saved me,” I manage to say before darkness envelops me, the sound of sirens fading into the distance.
* * *
AIDEN
“Move!” I roar at the junkies blocking the entryway to A I don’t wait for them to get a trolley.
A nurse points me in the right direction, and I sprint down the stretch of corridors until I land in the surgical ward.
The nurses see me coming and jump from their station, ready to assist in any way they can.
Katie’s eyes rolled into the back of her head about ten minutes ago, and I haven’t been able to rouse her since. “Katie, stay with me, baby. Stay with me.”
A surgeon comes bounding into the room, his scrubs already on. His assessment is quick but thorough, immediately ordering for Katie to be prepped for emergency surgery.
Hurried footsteps bound down the corridor. Raven appears a moment later, holding Katie’s finger in a plastic bag. “I had no ice,” he explains breathlessly. “But I got the finger.”
The surgeon nods, grateful for Raven’s quick thinking, and rushes Katie into the operating room.
Raven’s eyes fall to my mangled hand. “Someone should take a look at that.”
“Katie first,” I insist, trying to ignore the pain shooting up my arm. “I’ll be fine.”
He nods, leaving as he spots the security guards ready to give him the boot from the ward. They can try to move me all they want. I’m not fucking leaving. Not without her.
Moore’s fat head pops into the room, his beady eyes finding mine. “You need to come with me.”
“You need to fuck off.”
“AJ—”
“Do not,” I warn, getting to my feet. I charge him, the flash of fear in his eyes only spurs me on.
“You can’t keep me from her,” I snarl, grabbing the handcuffs from his belt and snapping one cuff onto my wrist before he can react.
I turn, settling myself back into the chair, and snap the other cuff to the bed frame.
“You’re going away this time, AJ. You just turned Dublin City Centre into a war zone. You’re not getting out of this one.”
“Do you see me moving?” I taunt, raising an eyebrow as I lean back in the chair, the metal handcuffs clinking against the bed frame.
“Give yourself a nice big pat on the back, detective. You finally have me in custody. Now, be a doll and find David Walsh for me before I change my mind about cooperating.” I meet the detective’s gaze, a smirk playing on my lips.
“Or maybe you’ll just have to settle for watching the city burn without me. ”
“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” Moore warns, his expression unreadable. “We’ll find Walsh with or without your cooperation.”
“You couldn’t find your arsehole without me pointing you in the right direction,” I retort.
“I allowed you time to do your job right and look what happened. My brother was stabbed and almost killed. My fiancée was abducted, tortured, and almost beaten to death, all while you were twiddling your thumbs, hoping Walsh’s fat arse would land in your lap.
” A nurse steps into the room, I can tell by the way her eyes fall to my cut up hand that she’s here to assess the damage.
“Now, if you excuse me, detective, it’s next-of-kin only. I trust you can see yourself out.”