18. Keir
Keir
M olly disappeared from the room again, calling for her sister.
Pulling on my jeans, I chased her, hopping from one leg to the other, attempting to keep pace.
When I made it to Orla’s bedroom down the hall, I took in the destruction.
The curtains billowed from the open window, which answered the question of how they got in.
Stepping deeper inside, I took stock, trying to piece together what happened.
The window was shattered, the desk askew, and the chair had been knocked over and broken.
The quilt lay in a rumbled heap, no doubt having been stripped from Orla’s body while she slept.
On the nightstand, still plugged in, was her phone, along with a framed photograph of Orla and Molly.
Molly looked like she was maybe thirteen, which would’ve made Orla around five or six, and their arms were wrapped tightly around each other.
Behind me, I heard Molly calling Orla’s name as she went from room to room. “She’s not here, Keir,” she said, desperation making her voice warble. “She’s not here. Where is she?”
I inspected the window, noticing the glass was on the outside of the frame. “I don’t know.” But I knew someone who would. Hustling down the stairs, I found my boots by the front door and quickly tugged them on. We were supposed to have eyes on this house, so where the fuck were they?
Outside, I scanned the street, searching for the blacked-out car or van all the clans seemed to use.
I found a white transit van parked across the road, a couple of houses down.
Nobody was in the front seat, and as I rounded the back, I found out why.
A body lay partway out of the open rear doors, a pool of blood around his head.
Further inside, I found the other Dog, shot execution-style, slumped against the side panel.
“ Motherfuckers!”
Patting down my pockets, I found my phone and dialed Gael’s number.
He answered on the third ring, anger seething in his tone. “Do you know what time it is?”
“I don’t give a fuck what time it is. Your Dogs are dead.”
“The fuck you say?”
“They were shot. And someone took Molly’s sister in the middle of the night.”
There was the sound of rustling bedclothes, and when Gael spoke again, he sounded more alert. “Where the fuck were you? Didn’t you hear anything?”
Where was I? I was balls deep in my woman, who had no trouble distracting me with her body. She was a fucking jynx, or maybe a curse. Bad shit happened whenever I fucked her.
“I didn’t hear anything.” I had been too wrapped up in pussy to notice a goddamned thing and that needled me.
“Any ideas who took her?”
“Have to assume it was the Fiach Clan.” But how the fuck would they know Orla was home alone tonight? Unless… “The fucking john.”
Gael interrupted my thoughts. “What?”
Yanking the body of the Dog fully into the back of the van, I shut the doors until the cleaners arrived. “Molly’s mam got a call from a regular customer for tonight.”
“Her mother is a whore?”
I grunted. “She left the house. What if it was a fucking set up to ensure Orla was alone?”
“You might be right,” Gael conceded. “Owen just arrived. I’ll let him know what’s happened. Cleaning crew is on their way, though.”
“Thanks,” I muttered, and hung up. Back inside the house, I found Molly pacing the length of the hallway between the front door and the kitchen. When she saw me, she raced to my side, stopping only a few feet away.
Wringing her hands together, she asked, “Did you find anything?”
“The two Dogs from the Sionnach Clan were killed. Probably before Orla was taken. It looked like they were caught by surprise.”
Her eyes dropped to the ground. “Why didn’t we hear anything?”
I shook my head. I didn’t have an answer, but had a suspicion. “Does your mam keep a key somewhere?”
She frowned. “A key?”
Stalking outside, I checked under the doormat and found the outline of a key stained into the concrete path. Slapping the mat back down, I let out a curse. The broken window was a fucking decoy. “They let themselves in and took her.”
Molly frowned, then looked at the door. Sure enough, the key was still in the lock, and the color drained from her face. “This was my fault.”
Irrational anger surged through me, but it wasn’t directed at her. Not this time. “How was it your fucking fault?” I snapped. “If anything, it’s mine. Coming here was supposed to protect your sister, not serve her up on a fucking platter.”
Her teeth dug into her bottom lip. “What are we going to do? The Fiach Clan have my baby sister.”
Pulling her into my arms, I held her to me and murmured, “We’re going to get her back, Jynx.”
“But how?”
That was the question. Barreling into Gannon Sweeney’s territory half-cocked wouldn’t get us anywhere, but my primitive brain was screaming for me to do something. If they had Orla, they would move her north through Dublin to County Louth. We didn’t have much time.
“Gather your things. We’re leaving.”
Inside, I slid my jacket over my naked torso. This wouldn’t fucking do. When Molly saw me, she realized it, too.
“There might be something left from my da in my mam’s wardrobe,” she offered.
The likelihood of whatever treasured item fitting me were slim to none, but it was the only option we had right now. I nodded, watching Molly white-knuckle the railing as she climbed the stairs, almost like she was afraid she’d topple over.
The clock in the hall ticked ominously.
Another second. Another minute. Another fraction of time, in which Orla was being taken from the safety of the Sionnach Clan’s territory and into the Raven’s.
When Molly reappeared, she had a button-down shirt clutched in her hands. It was bright pink with palm trees covering it.
“It was his favorite,” she explained. “He always said he’d take us to Hawaii one day, but he never did.”
I felt the gravity of what she was giving me. This was the last scrap of her father. Something he’d worn. Something he cherished. Yet I was about to wear it into a fucking war.
“I’ll do my best to get it back to your mam in one piece,” I promised.
Taking off my jacket, I slid my arms into the sleeves and shrugged the material over my shoulders. I was broader than her father, and the seams of the shirt strained over my chest and back. The buttons bulged but held.
“It’s a little small,” she commented, staring at me like she was watching a ghost.
“It’s only temporary,” I replied. “We collect Orla and come back here. I’ll have Gael put your sister under his protection.”
“What about my mam?”
“Her too.” Making sure the keys to the Rover were in my jacket pocket, I asked, “Are you ready?”
Raising her chin, she nodded. This woman did not back down.
“It will take us only an hour to get to the Fiach compound.”
The Fiach Clan compound was in Ballymascanlon.
Like the Sionnach Clan, the Fiach Clan house was a grand Georgian building, but they had a converted coach house adjacent to the main building connected by a breezeway.
Honestly, I didn’t think that Sweeney had this much taste when it came to property, but this trip was proving full of surprises.
We parked down the road from the main gate; the sun having risen on our drive north.
“What’s the plan?” Molly asked, wringing her hands.
Reaching over, I placed my palm over one of hers, feeling her relax. “Don’t worry, Jynx, I have a plan.”
I, in fact, did not have a plan.
I had no idea how we were going to get inside without any real firepower of our own.
My gaze flicked to my side mirror when I noticed a white van coming up the road, bearing the name of a laundering company.
This fucker couldn’t even clean his own fucking sheets.
Opening my door, I stopped the van, pulling out my gun as I rounded the driver’s side.
The guy was smart. He already had his hands up as he stammered out, “What do you want?”
I took in the navy-blue coveralls he was wearing. “Your van and your clothes.” Popping open his door, I showed him the way out with the muzzle of my gun. “Strip.”
He reached for his zipper, but his eyes widened when Molly appeared on the other side of the van. “Run!” he told her, eyes darting between us. “Go! Now!”
Her gaze moved to me and narrowed. “What are you doing?” she hissed, marching closer.
“Finding us a way in.” Reaching into the van, I pulled the keys from the ignition and tossed them to her. “Check the back.”
Rounding the rear of the van, she opened the doors and climbed inside. Every second of silence made the barbed wire around my chest tighten.
“Jynx?” I called.
“There’s an industrial laundry trolley on wheels back here. Cleaning supplies and another set of coveralls.”
Fucking perfect.
Returning my attention to the guy, I waved the gun in his direction, indicating I wanted him to continue. He shucked the heavy material and handed it to me.
“I’m going to need that security pass as well,” I said, gesturing to the lanyard around his neck.
“They’ll kill you, you know,” he said. “That’s a clan house up there. They don’t mess around.”
I flashed him a smile while unbuttoning my borrowed Hawaiian shirt then I shrugged it off. His eyes widened when he saw the wolf tattooed on my shoulder. “I think I can handle it. Now, turn around and walk that way.”
The guy complied, and it was so nice to have someone do just as I asked for a change.
When he was far enough away, I called to Molly, “Put the coveralls on.”
She stuck her head out of the van. “What’s the plan?”
“We drive straight in there.”
“They’ll recognize you.”
“That’s why I’ll be inside the cart, and you’ll be pushing it.”
She was quiet as I pulled on the coveralls, then ducked back into the van and returned with a cap. “Put this on too.”
I slid the hat onto my head, adjusting the bill to sit low over my eyes.
She brushed past me, softly muttering, “You’re insane.”
Wrapping my hand around her biceps, I pulled her to a stop and pressed the security pass into her hand. “You like my brand of crazy, Jynx.”
Molly shook her head and climbed into the driver’s seat as I rounded the back of the van, shutting the double doors.
Then I climbed into the rolling cart and pulled the canvas cover over the top, hiding myself.
The vibration of the engine climbed through the wheels and into the plastic body of the cart as Molly drove closer to the compound.
She stopped, and I could barely make out her conversation with the guard. A minute later, the van was moving again. We bumped over what I could only assume were cobblestones in the courtyard before parking. The van doors opened, letting a rush of cold air inside.
“We’re in,” Molly murmured, hovering over the cart. “What do we do now?”
“There’s a lift beneath your feet. Slide it out, then push the cart on and lower it. Go inside and act like you belong.”
Her voice got lower. “Are you fucking insane? You want me to wander round in there while you hide in a laundry cart?”
“Gannon Sweeney knows what I look like, Jynx,” I explained. “If I show up, he’ll put a bullet between my eyes before we know what’s going on. You’re the perfect decoy.”
The canvas cover shifted, and her citrus and mint smell dragged over me. “What if they recognize me?”
The thought had crossed my mind. “You’ll be fine.”
Her gaze darted around, her panic building.
“Do you want to get your sister back?”
“Of course I do,” she hissed.
“Then slide out the lift, put the cart on, and lower it down,” I repeated.
She gave me one last quizzical look, dropped the canvas, and got to work.