Chapter 47
Chapter Forty-Seven
DARE
I jiggle my leg in the car. It’s been nearly half an hour since I started the loop of the feed.
They were supposed to be out in fifteen minutes.
I check my watch, and another five minutes have gone by.
What the fuck is happening in there? Did Cillian get hit on the way in? Does Cormac know about our plan? Know that we’re connected to Isla?
I know Reese entered the mansion’s gate a while back; I saw him speed in. He’s a fucking monster. I’m not sure even Cillian can take him down.
My breath starts to come shorter, my heart racing.
I’ve been so worried about Isla and the baby that I haven’t even thought about Cill and Liam. If anything happens to them...
“Fuck it." I push open the SUV door.
The cameras are still on loop, so I can’t look into the system to see what’s happening. But they won’t know I’m coming, at least.
Most everyone in the Irish mob uses silencers, so there’s been no sound. It’s honestly been eerily quiet.
I make it to the back fence in seconds, rushing to get to my friends and the love of my life.
I wish I’d thought to borrow one of their guns. Not that it would make a difference. I can’t hit the side of a barn.
I hate the things, but I’m well-versed in knife and hand-to-hand combat. If worse comes to worst, I might not make it.
I have to be sneaky. That’s the only way I can get through this.
If I can get through it at all.
I hop the fence, and dead bodies are littered all over the place.
Fuck.
As I approach the house, close to the side patio, one particular body calls to me.
No, it can’t be.
He’s huge, and his face is almost unrecognizable, but I sigh, my body sagging, when I realize this is Reese, Cormac’s second-in-command. And fucking hell, he must have been hit by a Mack truck. His face has been pureed.
I wrinkle my nose.
Good riddance.
Even though Reese is no big loss, all the dead bodies around remind me why I’m here.
And though I have never killed anyone to date, that I know of, of course, I shudder to think today might be the day.
But for Isla, I won’t hesitate.
Speaking of killing, where is Cill? And where is Isla?
My eyes scan the area, noting that none of the bodies could be theirs.
God, I have to find her, have to tell her I love her.
I ache to see her, pray she’s okay.
I need to apologize. I need to tell her that I don’t care if she’s sleeping with the whole Irish mob, that I just want her. Okay, that’s a lie. There is no way I’d be okay with her sleeping with anyone else, but I don’t mind if she wants the three of us. We can be a family; we already are one.
I was stupid and jealous before, and I won’t ever let her slip from my grasp again.
I blamed her for running when she was our prisoner. I blamed her for sleeping with Liam and Cillian even though I’d participated in the whole thing. I was a hypocrite and an idiot, but not anymore.
Now I just can’t wait to get to her.
A bullet wheezes through me.
And I’ll be damned if I die trying.
I duck and weave, dodging bullets as the guy stalks toward me, firing off shots.
He curses in Gaelic when he needs to reload, and before he is done, I kick him in the chest and throw a rotating kick that sends his gun flying out of his hands.
It falls on the ground and pops off one final shot before settling into the grass.
After I’m done with this son of a bitch, I can’t forget to pick it up. Even though I don’t like guns, this is an unusual situation. Maybe I can use it to threaten and won’t actually need to use it.
I pull out the dagger I always keep on me as he falls on his ass and brandish it at him, hoping he backs down.
He’s struggling to breathe, but he’s getting back to his feet.
“C’mon, boyo. Let’s do this.” I grin, bouncing on my heels, hoping my arrogance confuses him, but he yells and dives at me, twisting my wrists around to try to stab me instead.
I grunt and roll to my side, throwing him off me and into the nearby bushes.
When he gets up again, blood is trickling down his face.
“Fucker won’t stay down.” I'm talking to myself more than him, and he groans as I punch him rapidly in the face, once, twice, three times.
When he keeps coming like he’s the fucking terminator, I finally stab him in the leg, twisting the knife so that he can’t get up again.
He screams, grasping at the wound as I tug the knife out.
Blood sprays all over me.
Fuck.
Must have hit the femoral artery. He’ll bleed out in minutes.
But I can’t think about that right now.
My head spins with adrenaline, and my side stings like fire.
It takes me several moments to realize I’m bleeding too. He got me right between the ribs on my left side.
He gives me a grin before he passes out, dropping the pocketknife he slipped out in the melee.
But the adrenaline is minimizing the pain, and we can always figure out everything with Doc later.
Grunting, I grab the fucker’s gun, pocketing my knife and his and holding the gun in my hand awkwardly for a moment.
I’ve only done target practice once. I was awful at it, and something about holding a weapon that’s only meant for killing gets to me, but I have to do this.
I need all the help I can get to get to my friends and my girl. I’m by the side of the house now. I can see the light at the end of the tunnel, as they say.
There is a door here, so instead of going all the way to the back, I open the side door and make my way inside, gasping for air when my wound is irritated by the movement.
Fuck, that hurts.
But I’m not worried about myself. I’m only worried about Liam, Cillian, and Isla.
This area is eerily quiet and also empty.
No men. No bodies. But there’s a commotion happening upstairs, a girl sobbing, screaming.
Is that Isla?
I rush up the steps and into the hallway, but all I find is yet another fucking guard.
“Well, isn’t this just awesome…”