Before the pain and worry cleared enough for her to think, a massive boom came from the gate. Mack scrambled back toward Lyse and Sean, herding Siobhan as he came, his muttered curses telling Lyse that whatever was coming, it was bad.
“Is that a car?” she heard Siobhan ask.
A car? They were ramming the eight-foot, solid wood gate with a car? Holy shit. The gate didn’t stand a chance, and once their attackers were inside, neither did they. “Mack?” She bit down on a scream as she forced herself to roll onto her knees. Agony notwithstanding, she couldn’t just lay here and let them kill her or anyone else. Holding the pad over Sean’s heart firmly in place, she settled her knee on it and grasped Fionn’s knife in slippery hands. “Mack?”
“Easy,” Mack said, the sound almost a croon except for the deadly intent underlying it. “Just a minute more.”
In a minute they could be dead. The boom came again, this time with a loud crack. Lyse glanced around. Where was Fionn?
The revving of a car engine registered in her ears, then the squeal of brakes—the car reversing. A sudden surge in noise warned her right before a black SUV busted through the gates and into the courtyard.
“Mack!”
Siobhan yelled it with her. Lyse had never felt so helpless, crouched over Sean’s bloody body with the deadliest knife she’d ever held, facing a group of men as they jumped from the vehicle with what looked like small machine guns in their grips. She couldn’t stop them, couldn’t protect her friends. Or Fionn.
Just like last time.
She tightened her fingers around the textured grip of Fionn’s knife. Please, God, not like last time.
One man, his face covered in a black balaclava, rounded the end of Mack’s car. “Hand over the woman!”
Before he’d finished the words, Mack’s gun discharged. The man screamed, grabbing his leg. The attacker fell, another taking his place just as a shout came from the direction of the gate.
“Hey!”
Relief caved Lyse’s chest in. Fionn. He must’ve climbed the wall to flank them.
“You’ll be wanting to put those weapons down, gentlemen.”
The words should sound polite, but the ice dripping from them made Lyse shiver. The man staring them down from behind his mask froze, gun raised.
Another sound near the gate, an angry shout. A gunshot quickly followed.
“Two down, two to go,” Fionn called. “I’m not feeling so generous now.”
A clatter came from the other side of Mack’s car. A gun being dropped? Gravel crunched, and she knew the other gunman was getting on his knees.
The man in front of them didn’t seem to move or even breathe. He stared Mack down. Deciding which was the lesser of two evils, being shot or being arrested? What would his boss do if he was taken? Was it one of those “better off dead” scenarios?
His chest rose—a breath. Mack’s gun fired. At the same moment another shot went off. Both caught the gunman in either thigh. Time seemed to slow as the man’s legs buckled, his finger tightening on the trigger. Several shots bit into the air before he hit the ground.
Chapter Twelve
“So you found her in the same village as your mother, in Ireland?”
Fionn wished he could laugh at Deacon’s surprise. Unfortunately none of this was funny. His mam had almost been mowed down by a group of Ferrina’s thugs. Sean and Lyse had gone down. It had been a helluva morning, as his friend would say, and they were no closer to finding a way to protect Siobhan from Ferrina. “I did.”
“So what do you intend to do with her?”
“Bring her home,” he barked. What else was he supposed to do? Lyse had committed a crime, for feck’s sake. And yet the thought of her punishment didn’t bring the satisfaction he normally felt. He didn’t know what he was feeling right now other than a jumbled mess. “You can help me. When you get over here.”
“What?”
In the few minutes it took to explain about Ferrina and this morning’s attack, Fionn could sense Deacon’s tension ratcheting up. “What do you know about his current organization?”
“Only the little Lyse has explained to me so far. We were after gathering her research when Ferrina’s men appeared.” Luckily her laptop hadn’t been hit—the bag had been on her opposite shoulder. Fionn had it stowed in the SUV to look at when they returned to Mack’s.
“I’ll get Tucker on it, see what he can dig up as well. It might be tomorrow before I can arrive. I’ll have to arrange things with Sydney and Elliot. How’re the locals?”
Fionn sucked in a lungful of cool Irish air as he glanced around him, aware of people coming and going through the doors of the emergency room, up and down the sidewalks, but despite being busy, no one lingered near him. “Problematic. The only people who knew our location were at the station. We weren’t followed into town.”
Deacon was quiet. Fionn could feel his friend thinking through the implications of his words, assessing, the pieces of the situation fitting together in his mind. The man was a master at strategy, which was why he’d risen to team lead so quickly at Global First.
“I have Mack,” Fionn said, “and he’s good, but it won’t be enough.”
“Give me twenty-four hours. Think you can hold out till then, brother?”
“I can.” He could hold out forever knowing backup was coming. A sudden spike of pain hit him, longing for his team, for Trapper and Inez and Dirado and Farley to be here with Deacon, the six of them falling into the natural rhythm that made them unstoppable. But his friends were dead, and Trapper would never do fieldwork again, his injuries from the torture Mansa had put him through too extensive. He’d always have pain, limited mobility. It clawed at Fionn that he couldn’t help his brother. It was only him and Deacon now.
He and Mack would regroup tonight, and by the time Deacon arrived, they’d have a better idea of what they were facing.
After ending the call, he walked back into the hospital. The crowds sent anxiety crawling along his skin, the knowledge that anyone could be hidden and he wouldn’t know it, but there’d been no alternative. Both Sean and Lyse had been shot, and his mam had a scalp laceration from hitting the gravel with her forehead.
Mack entered one side of the atrium, escorting Siobhan. A large white bandage covered the cut on her head, but her eyes were clear and she walked easily enough wrapped in Mack’s arm. Probably no concussion then. Relief hit Fionn like a tank.
“All’s fine,” Siobhan said. She didn’t smile; being targeted by four gunmen, watching people you cared about get shot tended to smother your smiles a bit. She grasped Mack’s shirt tightly as if afraid he’d be taken from her. “Lyse?”
Fionn nodded toward the hall they’d just come from, the same hall Lyse had been wheeled down earlier. “No word yet.”
“I’m needing to get to the station,” Mack said. “My inspector allowed me to bring Siobhan in, but he’ll be wanting my report.”
“Will they let you question the bastard?” Fionn asked. Two of the gunmen hadn’t survived the fightin’—one shot in the chest, the other in the femoral artery. A third was in surgery upstairs, but the one who’d surrendered was with the local garda. He was also their least likely source of information. The higher your rank in an organization like the Irish Cartel, the more intel you had and the bigger your balls; this guy had none.
“They will.”
“Can you trust them?” Siobhan asked, her voice low, keeping the words between them.
Mack’s face tightened. “I’ve known my inspector for years; I’ve trusted him.” He pressed Siobhan more firmly to his side. “It could be anyone.” He brushed a kiss against her forehead, right near the bandage. “I won’t be takin’ any chances, acushla.”
Mack’s gaze met his over Siobhan’s head, and Fionn could see the steel in the man’s eyes. He’d find their traitor, and they’d be regretting their decisions soon after.
“Watch yourself,” Fionn told him. “I’ll text when we finish here. You’ll b
e coming back to the house tonight?”
“In a few hours. Deacon on his way?” Mack asked.
“As soon as he can.”
Mack kissed the side of Siobhan’s head again, lingering this time. “Do whatever Fionn tells you to, yeah? I’m needing to know you’re safe.”
Siobhan cupped his cheek, her fingers stroking the stubble there intimately. “I will. Go do what you need to.”
Mack shook Fionn’s hand, his dark eyes drilling into Fionn’s. “I’m trustin’ ya. Keep her safe.”
“Always.” He’d given up his identity to do just that; he wouldn’t be stopping now. “We’ll head on to the house as soon as Lyse is released.”
The nurse came for them shortly after. “The bullet grazed her side. No major damage, but she’ll need to keep the bandage dry, changing it regularly.” She passed a paper to Siobhan, a hint of a smile teasing her mouth. “She can take this for pain, although she might need to half the dosage if you’re wanting her to be coherent. She’s a wee thing, and sensitive.”
That smile had him wonderin’. When the nurse escorted them back to sit with Lyse while she prepared the discharge papers, Lyse was lying on her side in the narrow hospital bed, her eyes glazed. Siobhan went right to her and laid a hand on her forehead. Fionn remembered his mam doing that when he was a little boy, checking for a fever even if he’d only skinned his knee. The memories eased the tension still vibrating through his body.
“Siobhan?” Lyse reached for his mam’s hand, missing a couple of times before finally connecting
Siobhan squatted a bit to look into Lyse’s eyes. “How much medicine did they give you, dear?”
Fionn glanced at the prescription the nurse had passed them. “Not so much, from the look of it.”
His mother chuckled. “I bet you can’t hold your liquor either, can you?” she asked Lyse.
“What?” Lyse’s eyelids drifted down in long sweeps. “Where’s Sean?”
“He’s in surgery,” Siobhan told her. “I called Cathal, so don’t be worryin’ about that. He’s upstairs in the waiting room. He’ll call us as soon as Sean is in recovery, let us know how he’s doing.”
Tears gathered in Lyse’s eyes. “He’ll be okay?”
It was odd, seeing her concern. As if Sean were her brother. Fionn hadn’t seen her with family. Her parents had never visited her that he knew of, and her only brother had died a couple years ago. She was the lone girl behind her computers, no connections or entanglements.
Just those wide, innocent eyes staring up at him with adoration.
He wanted to forget the way she’d looked at him back then, the way she looked now, about to cry over Sean, because without those connections it was easy to be seeing Lyse in one dimension, just the woman who’d betrayed him, not the woman who, right now, stood to lose someone she cared about. That fear changed her in his eyes, and he wasn’t liking it.
“His heart didn’t stop,” he pointed out. “I’d take that as a good sign the bullet missed it.” What it had hit, they wouldn’t know till after the surgery, but that was a definite positive.
The tears spilled over, and his mam threw him a dark look. He had the grace to wince. “Too blunt?”
“Too blunt,” Siobhan bit out. She brushed Lyse’s hair back from her face. “Lyse, Sean’ll be all right.”
Lyse gave her a slow blink, squeezing out another tear to trickle down her cheek. “Okay.” She closed her eyes, opened them. Closed them again, and Fionn watched her body relax into sleep.
They sat in silence for a bit before his mam stirred. “I’m thinking I’ll see what’s taking that nurse so long.”
Fionn shook his head. “You’re not going wandering. There are men wanting to take you, remember?” Just the thought had his heart in his throat.
“Not likely here, with all the people,” she said. “Besides—”
The door opened—Lyse’s nurse returning with a stack of paperwork. “If I could talk you through these, ma’am?”
Siobhan joined her at the little counter, listening as the woman discussed aftercare and payments and signatures. Fionn wandered over to look down at Lyse. She seemed so young, her hair so thick it seemed too heavy for her head, for the delicate features of her face. In sleep she seemed a teenager.
He felt old in comparison. Jaded. And, when his fingers delved into her hair and eased it back from her face, confused. So confused.
Why did this woman, of all the women he knew, draw him so strongly? Why did looking at her, even when he was angry, make his heart thud and his cock ache? Unable to resist, he trailed his thumb down the smooth curve of her cheek. So soft, like a wee one. And yet the feelings she stirred in him were nothing like feelings for a child.
Her eyes flickered open. “Fionn?”
The drugged look remained. Snagging a nearby stool, he scooted it closer and sat, putting him on level with her. “Yeah.” When she frowned, he added, “You’re in the hospital. It’s all right. Everything’s all right.”
His thumb was still stroking her cheek, he realized. He started to pull away, but her brow wrinkled, her hand reaching out for his. She moved it back to her face, her own hand shaky. Although the bullet had grazed her side instead of punching through it, the wound was deep. He knew from experience how much it hurt for a man his size; for someone as small as Lyse…
His gut churned. Everything in him was wanting to deny it, wanting to say she deserved what she got, that he didn’t care if she was in pain. But the truth was, the sight of that shaking hand made him ill. His mind told him she was a traitor, that he had no business caring for her. His body didn’t care; it yearned toward her anytime they were in a room together. The two sides warred inside him, and damn it, he was gettin’ tired of the fight.
He leaned in, bringing his face close to hers. “Why, Lyse?” he asked, needing to know once and for all. “Why did you set that bomb? Why did you betray me?”
Hazel eyes latched on to his. “You know why, Fionn,” she said, his name slurring on her tongue. “I told you. Didn’t I tell you?” She blinked once, again, before her eyelids closed fully, locking her away from him. “I love you. Had to keep everyone safe…keep you…safe.”
She fell asleep on the last word. Fionn stared down at her. He’d denied repeatedly that she’d done it for him, ignored the fact that she’d cleared the area as much as she could—because her actions had shattered the image he’d always held of her, the hero worship in her eyes that he’d come to rely on. But even drugged and in pain, she held true to her story.
I love you.
What would he do to protect the people he cared about? What had he done for his mother, his team? Given up everything. Risked his life. Killed.
I love you.
So simple.
And destructive, because if he accepted it, he had to accept her. He just didn’t know if he was ready.
Chapter Thirteen
Lyse had slept most of the afternoon away. She remembered being carried into the house and desperately wishing she was awake enough to appreciate being in Fionn’s arms, but the next thing she knew, her eyes were opening to a dusky room and a stomach growling with hunger. Pushing the covers back, she sat up and fingered her hair out of her face. Everything ached, especially her side, an ache that shot to burning pain when she got to her feet.
“Holy…” She hissed, biting back curses as she tried to catch her breath. The walk to the bathroom seemed to take forever. By the time she shuffled into the kitchen, little moans were escaping her control.
Siobhan took one look at her and hurried over. “Let’s be getting you in a seat, yeah?” She settled Lyse at the table. “I’ve got dinner almost ready. You look like you need a pain pill. Or whisky.”
“Hell yes.”
Siobhan chuckled. A minute later she was setting a glass of water and a large white pill on the table.
“Thank you.”
Siobhan laid a cool hand against her forehead. “You can hug me later, dear. We’ll get some fo
od in you and your antibiotics, and you’ll be feeling better in no time.”
With the fire racing up her side, Lyse kinda doubted that, but she didn’t argue. Especially not when Fionn came in the back door. He eyed her across the room, seeming to assess every part of her while he wiped his boots on the mat just inside the door. There was something in that look—she couldn’t pinpoint what, but something different. As if he knew something she didn’t. It itched under her skin, that look. And then Siobhan walked between them to set Lyse’s plate on the table and the moment was broken.
The shepherd’s pie was one of Lyse’s favorites. Siobhan made the best in the village; Lyse should know since she’d had it almost everywhere. That and fish and chips. No one made fish and chips like the Irish. She could eat her weight in fried fish and shepherd’s pie. Tonight, though, the meds hit her about halfway through the meal and the room went hazy. Her attention faded in and out until Fionn mentioned Deacon’s name.
Her heart thumped into her throat. “Deacon’s coming here?” Facing Fionn had been the most difficult thing she’d ever done. Facing Deacon came a close second. She’d respected the man for years. Seeing hatred in his eyes might be more than she could handle right now.
“He is.” Fionn watched her, seeming to see everything she wanted to hide. “He texted me a bit ago. He and King are on their way.”
“King Moncrief?” Part of Elliot’s team at JCL Securities. Deacon and Fionn’s team at Global First had been decimated by Mansa months ago; it made sense that Deacon would tap a friend of his fiancée’s to help.
“That King.” Fionn took a bite. “Should be here midmorning.”
She nodded, trailing her fork through what was left of her dinner. There was nowhere to run this time, nothing she could do to avoid the pain. Not if she wanted to help keep Siobhan safe.
Destroy Me (Southern Nights: Enigma Book 3) Page 8
