Down in Flames (Wildfire Hearts Book 5)

by Savannah Kade

  His voice came out low and menacing as Vander clef stumbled backward. The surprise that flashed across his face for only a moment, let everyone know he was startled by the ferocity of Ronan's response. Ronan tried to hold on to the rage and let it guide him. Turning back to his mother once again, he loosened the bindings that she could have undone herself had she been able to get even a single hand free.

  Behind him Vander clef roared and Ronan felt the impact as the man side swept him and took him to the floor. It was a clumsy tackle, and Ronan tried to roll but it didn't work. He didn't get aimed the right direction and he knew a split second before it happened.

  The world went dark as his head cracked against the hardwood.

  CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

  Tierney had been looking for a weapon as Ronan fought back against Elliot. His refusal to yield alone would be enough to set Elliot off.

  Gone was the controlled psychopath and in front of her was the raging monster she'd seen only a few times before. Elliot was a classic abuser. He didn't lose control. But when he did, all hell broke loose, and there were few survivors.

  Still, she'd run, rushing forward. But the fight had happened so fast and in such quick bursts, that she hadn't even made it across the room in time to stop Ronan from cracking his head on the floor. As she watched, horrified, his entire body went limp.

  Screaming, as if her voice would have any effect on Elliot, she jumped onto his back. She needed something, anything that she could do, but the gun at her hip was still in the holster. Her arms automatically wrapped around his neck. She'd trained herself to do a chokehold, imagining taking him down. Putting herself into that dream state now, she believed she was a warrior who could win.

  Lacing her arm under Elliot's neck, she glanced over to Ronan still out cold on the floor. She lifted her legs, making Elliot bear all her weight as he stood and tried to shake her off. But she ratcheted down her hold around his neck. She tried to pull one leg back and tried to knee him in his kidney. She was here to do as much damage to this man as she possibly could.

  But it didn't go the way she'd always imagined. In her musings, she held on as tightly as she could, and though he tried to fight her off, she remained in place until he passed out. She knew it would take much longer than expected and she was prepared to hold on for an eternity. But he fought harder than she'd been ready for.

  He roared, standing up and trying to throw her off, and it worked better than she wanted. Though she managed to hang on to him, she lost her hold and she had to tighten down again, starting over from zero at cutting off the blood to his brain.

  Her knee to his kidney had worked the third try, but his response was to claw at her arms. She could only be grateful to be wearing long sleeves, but she could feel the skin ripping as he dug in, trying to pull her muscles from her bone. Screaming shrilly into his ear, she hoped that at least her pain might deafen him. But he backed up, slamming her into various pieces of furniture.

  The table hit her across her lower back, sending shots of pain both up her spine and down her legs. Her toes tingled from the hit, but she tightened her arms. This might be her only chance and she held on as tight as she could.

  When the hits weren't enough to loosen her, Elliot calmed. He turned around, still wearing her like an extremely heavy trench coat, but even without air he seemed to find what he wanted. Far too calm, he walked her over to a nearby wall where he burst into motion, smacking her backward, his head slamming back into hers. Her jaw took the hit, hard enough she was certain it was broken. But worse, her head slammed into a picture frame, the glass piercing the back of her head. She could feel it cutting into her skin.

  Still, she didn't let go. He had to be close to losing consciousness. Leaning forward, she bit into the skin at the back of his neck and felt him jolt at the pain. At least it was some way that she could hurt him. But this time when his fingers lit into her forearms, she felt the wetness as he sank into the blood he'd released the first time, and he managed to pull her arm free from his throat.

  Elliot tossed her aside like nothing, slamming her into a wall that she slid down, her head ringing and her eyes going blurry. Still she forced them open as she tried to take in the scene. She knew she wasn't thinking clearly. But she reached for the one weapon that she had.

  Elliot walked toward Ronan, ignoring her as he leaned down to pick up the knife he'd dropped.

  She could not let him plunge that knife into the man she loved. Tierney pulled her gun. This time, her move would be fatal.

  Her arms were too shaky but, as close as he was, he made a large target. She lifted the gun, telling herself she had this as she aimed at his broad back, hoping to pierce his heart.

  Her head still ringing from the hit, she didn't even register the bullet as it ripped from the chamber.

  Only it didn't hit him.

  She couldn't be sure if the roar she heard was from the bullet or from Elliot, turning back to her and growling like a beast as he ripped the gun from her hand. Then he laughed.

  CHAPTER FIFTY

  Ronan’s vision was blurry as he slowly pushed his hands to the floor and himself to sitting. His head still rang but he could see the outline of his mother, the colors that made up her shirt, her hair, and the blood that marred all of her as he tried to will everything before him into focus.

  He turned ever so slightly to see Vander clef coming at him with a knife.

  Ronan felt as if the very air was ripped apart. Was it a bullet or a scream or a growl?

  He couldn't tell. But as he watched, Vander clef’s gaze was instantly pulled from Ronan to something behind Elliot. Ronan watched, not fast enough to react, as the man turned and yanked the gun from Tierney's hand and laughed at her.

  "You think you can take me out that easily, Emmie Baby? You can't. Bullets don't hit me." The boast was willful.

  Ronan would have liked to have laughed at the stupidity of it, except for the fact that the bullet had not hit Vander clef.

  His own eyes glanced quickly to his mother, concern that maybe the bullet had hit her. But she, too, was glaring at Vander clef as if her anger alone would stop his heart from beating.

  With everything he had, Ronan shook his head and cleared his thoughts. For a fight like this, he needed everything.

  Quickly, he scrambled to his feet, ready to take out Vander clef bare handed. But as the man finished laughing at Tierney he turned around, the gun lifted and aimed squarely at Ronan.

  The man's hand didn't shake, and the two of them locked eye to eye, each claiming the right to fight for Tierney.

  "So, Emily," he called to her back over his shoulder. "Tell me, how much do you think you love this man?"

  Though Ronan didn't let his gaze falter in the slightest, he could see Tierney in his peripheral vision as she pushed herself upright. Her face was covered in blood, and he wondered how badly she'd been hit. Right now, survival was the only goal and survival would mean taking Elliot Vander clef out.

  He stared back at the man is if his anger alone could accomplish that.

  "Turn around," Vander clef demanded of him. "Hands in the air."

  There was a snide sound to it, almost laughter, but Ronan was too far away to get the gun. Still, he took the opportunity. As he turned, he stepped closer, putting the back of his head almost to the barrel.

  "Look," Elliot said gleefully, though he was speaking to Tierney. "The man knows he's going to die. On your knees."

  The last command was clearly for Ronan. Vander clef intended to execute him. Ronan nodded as if to acquiesce and then, once again, he burst into motion.

  Spinning around, he lifted one arm using it to hook Vander clef's gun hand. He was supposed to take control of the arm and grab the gun, but it clattered to the floor. The move had not played out as smoothly as Ronan would have liked and the two were locked in close, each struggling to land the first solid hit.

  Tierney scrambled forward, reaching once again for her gun. Somehow, Vander clef managed to see it c
oming. Keeping his cool and reminding Ronan that he had to keep his own, Vander clef's foot came out. He stomped on Tierney's hand as she got close. With a side motion, he kicked the gun closer to himself even as he still tried to control Ronan's arms.

  Using Vander clef's hold against him, Ronan pulled the man forward. As he did, he aimed his knee up as hard and fast as he could. He'd never kneed another man in the nuts before, but watching Vander clef double over was beyond satisfying. Once again, the asshole roared with his own pain, as if he hadn't believed it was possible.

  He came upright far too quickly, but Tierney was right behind him. Somehow Elliot managed to get a hold of the gun again. Whatever pain he was in, he'd set it aside.

  Where was the knife? Ronan thought. He needed a weapon. Though he spotted it, it was too far away, clattered to the floor behind Tierney. Unless he could completely shift their positions and reach to the ground, the knife was out of play.

  This time, when Vander clef held the gun toward Ronan, he said only, "I won't give you another chance."

  Then he called over his shoulder, his eyes still on Ronan. "What are you going to do about this, Emmie?"

  Ronan could see as Tierney closed her eyes and swallowed.

  Tierney was fast, faster than he'd ever known. She bolted toward Ronan, pushing at Elliot. She was lightning fast, moving in front of Ronan before he could blink. She lifted her shoulders, because Elliot had already reacted.

  His target had changed too quickly to stop the play he'd set into motion.

  The sound of another bullet ripped through the air and there was nothing that Ronan could do as he felt Tierney's body slam into his. Then she collapsed onto the floor in front of him.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

  There was no time for Ronan to acknowledge the bloom of red on Tierney's chest, or the fact that she was in a limp puddle at his feet.

  There was no time to pay attention to the fierce fire that ripped through his own side.

  Had he been shot? Had he ripped his old wound open?

  It didn't matter. All he had was a moment to take advantage of Vander clef's stunned expression.

  The man had killed the one thing he actually wanted.

  Ronan stepped over the body of the woman he loved, closing the short distance. Reaching for the gun, he simply grabbed it. He roared his anger and grief as he gripped the gun and the man's hand together and wrenched it. With his own shocked wail, Vander clef let go, but Ronan was still crushing his hand.

  He was probably only able to get the gun off the man because of the shock of Tierney's death. But Ronan had to use anything he could.

  With no finesse, he twisted everything he held, making Vander clef yank backwards, trying to get free. He'd probably broken the man's hand in the struggle and Ronan let him pull his hand back. But he didn't manage to catch the gun and it clattered to the floor once again. He flinched, waiting for it to go off, but it didn't.

  Bending down to get it was necessary but put him in a vulnerable position. Ronan didn't care. He did it anyway. Sure enough, as his hands closed over the metal, Vander clef's foot came up, kicking him in the chest and sending him backward, stealing his breath.

  Ronan managed to hold onto the gun.

  Rolling onto his back, he sucked in air and aimed up. Right at Vander clef's sternum. Ronan pulled the trigger repeatedly until the slide jammed.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

  Ronan sat by the the hospital bed, holding his mother's hand.

  He was stitched up himself, having had a bullet dug out of his side. It had gone straight through Tierney and into him. Because she was shorter than he was, it hadn't hit anything vital on him. It hadn't gone too deep into his side because it had been slowed by passing through her first.

  Just the thought made his stomach clench. She had saved him.

  The room filled with the beeps and whirrs of medical machines and monitors. His mother had had surgery, correcting the damage done by the knife and stitching her arms and legs back up. The plastic surgeon had come in this morning telling her that another surgery would allow him to almost entirely eliminate the scarring.

  She had looked the man directly in the eyes and said, "I'm okay with these scars. I survived."

  Ronan wasn't sure Tierney would.

  He'd badgered the hospital employees until they put the two women into the same room.

  His father sat on the other side of his mother. Aileen Doyle had set up a permanent residence in the other corner as they violated all kinds of visitor policies. His brothers and Ewan Doyle were in the waiting room, ready to be called as needed or to demand their own turns at the limited space.

  A change in his mother's breathing indicated she was slowly coming awake again. Her medications made her drowsy and she often didn't orient as quickly as normal when she woke. But this time her first words were, "How is Tierney?”

  Ronan only pressed his lips together and shook his head. He fought tears, finally saying, "The same. Holding on, but they don't know."

  His mother nodded at him and squeezed his hand, leaving all the unanswered questions still unanswered.

  No one could find Sean. They all wanted to bring him home, so he could at least stay with the Doyles—the only family he'd ever known. He needed to be here in case Tierney didn't make it. But she'd hidden him so well that none of them had been able to figure out where he was yet.

  Ronan's mother asked the question she'd asked several times before, as if her memory of events was a little warped. "You got him, right? He's dead?"

  She meant Vander clef.

  "Yes," Ronan assured her, squeezing her hand again and repeating her words. "He's dead."

  But if Tierney didn't make it, the victory would be small indeed.

  With his father hovering over his mother and his brothers due to kick him out for their own turns any moment now, he turned his attention to Tierney. Her pale form lay across the bed, a tube down her throat, inflating her lungs and breathing for her. Vander clef hadn't hit her heart. He'd been just a little too low and to the side. Still, another two inches and she would have been dead instantly. As it was, he'd ripped the bullet through one of her lungs. The surgical team had removed part of it, along with her spleen. That alone should have been okay, but the damage also included shattered ribs that had needed a second reconstructive surgery, and she'd lost too much blood.

  The doctors had put her back together as best they could, and they'd medicated her so she wouldn't wake up, letting her body rest and heal. Now it was just a waiting game. And Ronan hated waiting.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

  Ronan headed up to the bar at Snafu. Today, he needed a shot ... or several.

  "Hey, son!" Ewan Doyle leaned down under the bar, going for Ronan's usual beer.

  Ronan shook his head. The greeting of "son" had been there since before he'd married Siorse, but today it felt like he would need to break the man of that habit. "Something stronger."

  With a nod, Doyle pulled out a lowball and poured three fingers of the best whiskey in the house, sliding it across the bar. Though Ronan gladly would have paid for it, Dad Doyle had refused his money from the moment Tierney had left town.

  She'd made a grand recovery. Though, the whole time she'd been on the mend, she'd spoken no words of their future to Ronan. Every time he'd brought them up, she evaded the conversation. As soon as she was released, even though she wasn't at one-hundred percent, she'd told them that she was getting Sean back, and she wouldn't let anyone else help. She'd insisted on his location remaining secret and she’d made the drive herself.

  Only, once she'd gotten Sean, she'd kept going. She’d simply sent a message to the Doyles that she was headed back to New York and the Gallaghers.

  Ronan had only wanted to help. Even if she didn't want to be with him, he still loved her. He still wanted the best for her and for Sean. He hadn't even had a chance to see the kid. She'd left and she'd refused everything, including his repeated offer of a lawyer. She'd told him in the hosp
ital, "You don't have the money to pay for it."

  She needed a lawyer. The Vander clefs were coming after her, both barrels blazing. There were even rumblings that they would go after Ronan and his mother, too. As if Mrs. Kelly, tied to a chair, with a knife cutting open her arms and legs, could possibly have been at fault in any of this! But money bought them the option to be crazy and to spread the pain around.

  The senior Vander clefs were livid that their precious boy was no longer with them. They were striking out in every way that they could. Tierney was their main aim, even though she hadn't been the one to pull the trigger.

  Ronan gladly would have taken the hit for her. He'd offered several times to confess, as though it were a straight up murder. A local jury of his peers surely wouldn't put him away for that long. He figured he could survive prison for however long it might be. At least, that's what he told himself.

  Tierney had refused all of it.

  So now he sat at the bar with her father, rotating the glass in his hands, and taking sips rather than gulping it like he wanted to.

  "It's been two months today," he told her dad. Two months since she’d blown town without a word to him. Two months with no word. Two months of him raising snack-named kittens and Zadie finally giving him that sad smile that said that it was past time to adopt them out. The one that said Tierney and Sean wouldn’t be back to do it.

  Mr. Doyle nodded, and Ronan felt his shoulders fall. He kept waiting for the man to say that he’d heard from Tierney, that there was good news. But as far as any of them could tell, she had simply returned to the arms of her New York family.

  She appeared to have healed well. "Look," Ronan said, grabbing his phone and holding it up. "At least she's healthy."