24. Keir
Keir
“ S he’s on the move,” Mila said.
The glow from my phone’s screen had been a fucking distraction while driving, but I didn’t give a shit about that now. The tracking app was the only connection I had to Molly, and I held onto the hope that we’d make it in time.
“What do you mean she’s moving?”
Mila flashed me the screen. “She’s coming this way.” She peered closer at the device, then glanced back up. “Shit, that’s her.”
By some miracle, we were on a straight stretch of road, and I saw the Rover appear in front of us like fucking magic.
“What are you going to do?” Mila asked.
“She won’t recognize this car.”
The princess snorted. “You guys all have the same fucking car.”
Ignoring her snide comment, I focused on getting closer to Molly, then yanked on the wheel just in time to block both sides of the road.
She hit the brakes, the back-end fishtailing with the sudden stop.
I was out of the car and around to the driver’s side a moment later, pulling on the handle.
The door didn’t open, and when I peered up to see why, I was staring at a pair of chartreuse eyes.
Orla shouted my name, then fumbled for the handle, opening the door. She jumped from the seat like it was on fire, wrapping herself around me. Her body shook, and I felt the tension in her shoulders and back. Relief poured from her, but it would be short-lived.
Taking her by the upper arms, I peeled her off me and looked her right in the eyes. Blood was smeared on her face, but she looked otherwise unharmed.
“Orla, where’s your sister?”
“B—B—back there.” She waved in the direction she’d come.
I frowned, glancing in the back seat. “But the tracker said she was here.”
“Tracker?” she asked, confusion wrinkling her brow.
I passed Orla to Mila—who should’ve stayed in the car but, of course, hadn’t listened—and looked inside the car. In the footwell, hidden under the driver’s seat, I found Molly’s phone. She wouldn’t have left it behind, she was too smart. I spun to face her sister.
“Did Mol— Cait give you this?” I asked, catching myself at the last moment.
Orla stared at me. “Cait didn’t give me anything when I left.”
“But this phone, did you notice it before?”
She shook her head. “Whose is it?”
“It’s your sister’s. I’d say she slipped this into the car so I would find you.” To Mila, I said, “Grab all the guns and get into my Rover.”
Mila jumped into action without argument while I bundled Orla into the backseat.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
“To get Caitria.”
“He’ll kill you,” she whispered.
“Who will kill me?”
“Someone named Owen.”
“Was there another man with him? A bodyguard?”
She bobbed her head, nibbling on her bottom lip like Molly did when she was thinking.
Motherfucking fuck .
“Buckle up,” I told her, slamming the door and moving around to the driver’s side. Mila slid in beside me, a mini arsenal of Glocks, extra magazines, and a couple of grenades sitting at her feet.
“It’s like Christmas,” she told me gleefully.
I glared at her, then spun the car around and started back up the road. Orla was able to direct us to a defunct farm, but I drove past the driveway and parked farther up the road to where we wouldn’t be seen.
“What’s the plan?” Mila asked, loading a magazine into a Glock and holding it up like she was Bruce Willis in the best goddamn Christmas film of all time.
“You’re staying here with Orla.”
Mila peered into the back where the other woman was sitting, then back at me. “Ah, no offense, but babysitting isn’t really my speed.”
I glared at her. “Are you always this difficult?”
“It depends on who you ask. My father would say yes, but my friends would just say that I’m helpful.”
“I’m okay by myself,” Orla whispered. “I’ll hide while you’re gone.”
Leaving a woman behind unprotected simply wasn’t an option, but Mila fixed that for me. She handed Orla a Glock with the instruction, “Aim for the biggest target. Torso or chest. Keep pulling the trigger until they stop moving, ‘kay?”
Orla stared at the weapon and swallowed. “I don’t think I can.”
Mila shrugged like it didn’t matter one way or another. “Girl, I can give you the tool, but you have to decide whether to use it.”
Molly’s sister stared at the other woman like she was a complete and utter conundrum, and I couldn’t help but feel the same way.
Mila slipped from the car and shut her door.
I faced Orla. “She may be a mad yoke, but she has a point. Like she said, stick to the larger targets where you know you’ll hit something. If you can’t kill, slow them down.”
Her hands shook as she placed the weapon down beside her. “I’ll do what I have to.”
“And I’ll do whatever I need to do to bring your sister out safely.” I started to turn away when Orla’s hand landed on my forearm.
“My sister means everything to me. She’s … she’s done things she’s not proud of…”
Resting my hand on top of hers, I said, “I know what she’s done, and I know why. You’ve always been her number one concern, and now she’s mine. I’ll get her back.”
“Because she’s your fiancée?” she asked.
If only it were that simple. What Jynx and I had been through over the past couple of days was like being thrown into a crucible. We would come back stronger, and our bond would be unbreakable.
“Because she’s Cait,” I replied in a murmur. “Nobody gets to dim your sister’s light.”
Slipping from her hold, I exited the car and found Mila waiting.
She was lip-synching into the end of the Glock like it was a microphone, singing a song I’d never heard before. When she saw me, she holstered the weapon and flashed me a who-gives-a-shit smile.
“You make a habit of singing into semi-automatic weapons?”
“Only when I’m waiting for someone.”
A mad yoke, indeed.
“Stay behind me at all times. And don’t speak, either. The second they hear your accent, they’ll know where you’ve come from.”
“But Gael already knows about me.”
That was true, but I had a hunch. “Maybe his son doesn’t. Come on.”
Walking along the roadway, I kept the dry-stone wall to my right, following it to the opening of the driveway. The stretch of compacted dirt and gravel continued for at least fifty feet until the silhouette of an old farmhouse came into view.
“Fuck me, what is that smell?” Mila asked in a hissed whisper.
Looking over my shoulder, I found her covering her nose with her arm. “Rotting hay. Animal shite. Who the fuck knows what else.”
Remaining close to the wall, I moved closer to the building.
There didn’t appear to be any lights on inside, but that didn’t mean it was deserted.
Off to the left was an outbuilding that looked like a barn.
Battling indecision, I moved toward the barn.
If I was going to stash someone, that’s where I would do it.
The smell of rot and decay worsened as we moved inside, as my boots disturbed the molding hay on the ground.
It was dark as pitch, but I wasn’t about to alert Owen to my presence with the light on my phone.
I navigated the perimeter of the room, straining to hear any sound that didn’t belong.
To Mila’s credit, she kept her mouth shut.
When I’d cleared the barn, we exited. It was full dark now, and the moon was tucked behind a cloud, not providing any substantial light. Motioning for Mila to stop, I gestured to the house and said, “I’ll go inside. You stay here.”
Even in the dim light, I could see her frown. “Doesn’t seem like the smartest thing to me, but okay. I can’t hear anyone here. Maybe they’ve left?”
“If they have, staying outside would be easier anyway, right?”
Her frown deepened for a moment, then smoothed out. Glancing over her shoulder, she scanned the area before turning back. “I’m going to take cover behind that ancient tractor over there, ‘kay?”
“Stay there, Mila, no matter what you hear,” I warned.
She shot me a look. “You think I can’t help because I’m a woman?”
Fuck me . “I don’t want to drag you into this anymore than I already have, so do me a fucking favor, and stay put.”
A mega-watt smile appeared on her face. “You like me,” she announced. “And want to keep me safe.”
I didn’t have time for this shit. “Stay. Put.”
She started in its direction, throwing over her shoulder, “Only because you like me so much.”
Shaking my head, I turned back to the house. The front door was ajar, just enough room for me to slip inside without moving it and possibly making the hinges squeal. The smell improved a little inside the old farmhouse, but the lighting did not. If anything, the shadows seemed to darken.
My boots sounded like gunshots on the wooden boards as I walked through the old kitchen.
No doubt Owen already knew I was here, so I didn’t dampen them now.
In fact, I was fucking annoyed at how much of a coward the fucker was being.
Feeling along the walls, I found a light switch and flipped it on.
Nothing happened.
That was when I heard it—a muffled cry which sent a visceral reaction pulsing through me.
Marching forward, I pulled out my phone and switched on the light, shining it around the living room. The space was empty except for an ancient grand piano and a single dining chair set in the center of the room with Molly tied to it.
A gag was fastened over her mouth, and dried blood crusted her hairline.
Her arms were bound behind her back, her shoulders torqued at an unnatural angle.
Her blue eyes were wide as she tried to shout something through the gag.
Rushing forward, I yanked the old strip of fabric from her mouth and lowered it past her chin to dangle from her delicate neck.
“Keir, watch?—”
There was a creak of the floorboard directly behind me.
I spun, but not fast enough to miss the swing of a bat coming directly at my head.
At the last second, I threw up the hand holding my phone.
The beam of light caught Rían’s savage snarl as he moved, and the bat glanced off the side of my hand, causing some of my small bones to break.