by Sophia Gray
He let those words sink in and I did my best to push them aside. I shook my head and refused to take the bait, but now it seemed like Shane was getting upset with me for not listening. For not following through with however his little mind had played out this scenario. No doubt in that vision I was in tears, sobbing about how I had been so wrong.
Well, not today or any other day.
Maybe Ciaran had killed people before. But I couldn’t believe he’d done it in cold blood. I wouldn’t believe that. Because the man I’d come to know was kind and warm, if a little rough around the edges. He was the kind of man who loved his mother and who took no pleasure in killing a man. But he took a lot of pleasure in making love to a woman.
Can you call it making love when only one side is in love? I wondered unwillingly.
Forcibly, I shoved that thought aside. I reminded myself that Ciaran had done his best to take care of me and he didn’t have to do that. I couldn’t hold it against him for not falling for me as I’d fallen for him.
Shane stood angrily and stomped over to me. He leaned down so he was hovering over me, his face pressed up close against mine. Not quite touching, but close enough that I could smell his breath and feel it on my face. “Did he tell you he was the good brother? The favorite? Did he tell you he was the hero? Did he tell you Macalister was an accident? Well, let me tell you something, sweetheart, he lied. He lied through his teeth. He’s as much of a monster as I am. Can’t live the same streets and end up different. It doesn’t happen.”
I couldn’t help the shudder that ran through me. Everything about Shane was wrong. And strangely enough, that was the only thing comforting about all of this. I could feel how wrong Shane was. I could feel how much I didn’t like him, didn’t trust him. And I felt the exact opposite for Ciaran. For him, I felt trust and warmth.
No. He wasn’t a monster as Shane claimed. He was a man. A good man whom I trusted. I wouldn’t be swayed by this jealous, psychotic man.
Taking a breath as though to calm himself, he pulled away from me. I was instantly relieved. He smoothed back his hair, then put on a fake smile that was evidently supposed to make me think he didn’t care about any of this.
“I guess you want to know why you’re still alive?” he finally asked, sounding almost breathless.
I was sticking to my no speaking guns, but I didn’t have to answer it seemed. He was all about the monologue and answering his own questions without the least bit of prompting from me, and I was happy to let him do it. The longer he wasted blathering away the longer I had to…
To what? I realized shakily.
I didn’t have a plan.
I didn’t know how to get out of here—and there were the two guys from earlier by the door. I didn’t know where I would go and how far I would get even if I could get out of the cabin.
And there was no one coming to rescue me.
My shoulders slumped a little at that knowledge. I was screwed. There was no way I was getting out of this. The knowledge weighed heavily on me and it was nearly enough to make me cry. Ironically enough, it was Shane’s next words that had me perking up and gave me hope.
“You’re alive because I need you as bait,” he told me. He’d gone back to his seat, but seemed to decide he was too worked up to sit down, because he ended up pacing between the couch and the fireplace over and over again. “You see, I want my brother dead. Really dead. And if I can shake up a few of his boys and send them running my way, well, that’ll be a good bonus. But mostly I want Ciaran dead, and I want to see him suffer. Do you know how you make a man like Ciaran suffer? You steal something important to him. So that’s what I did.”
I almost pointed out that if Ciaran was truly the monster Shane was claiming him to be, then he wouldn’t be the kind of man to come running to save some girl’s life, but I was too stuck on what he said.
Was I really important to Ciaran?
I’d spent this whole trip here, this whole experience, being positive that Ciaran wasn’t coming for me. And not just that, but that I wasn’t important to him. Was it possible I was wrong?
Don’t get your hopes up, a little voice in my head warned me. And it was right. After all, what sort of weight did a madman like Shane really hold? I’d already decided most of what he’d been rambling about tonight was a lie, why should this be any different?
Yet I wanted it to be different. More than anything, I wanted this to be different.
“Why did you kill that woman last night?” I found myself blurting, even as I promised myself to stay silent. I winced as soon as I said it, because he hadn’t killed that woman himself, but also because I wasn’t sure I wanted him to know I’d seen it. Or how much it had affected me.
But it was too late for that. He stopped pacing and swiveled around to face me. His eyes narrowed a fraction and his lips tugged down into a frown, but just as quickly as it came, both tiny movements were gone. His face was calm, almost serene all over again. He smiled at me and shoved his hands into his pockets. “Who?” he inquired cheerily. When I didn’t answer, he supplied for me, “Mrs. Sullivan, then?”
I didn’t have to confirm it; we both knew who I was talking about.
He let out a sigh, then shrugged his shoulders, as though he regretted it, but not really. It was the sort of regret you felt when you got a hole in a sweater you sort of liked, but hardly wore. It wasn’t important, but it upset you a little bit. Not even upset, but irritated. As though this was a minor inconvenience and ultimately you were going to have to go and get another sweater. But that was the only reason you were bothered.
And this was the woman who had raised him.
“Sorry about that,” he told me. There wasn’t anything close to sincerity in his voice. “But the woman was business. Just business. That’s the price you pay for being involved with the likes of us. Surely you’ve come to realize that by now?”
I said nothing, but I couldn’t deny that I was quickly beginning to realize I had gotten myself into a sticky situation with some very bad people. And I wasn’t sure how I was going to get myself out of it. I hoped that somehow Shane was right about this at least, that Ciaran would come for me, but how could I guarantee that? How could I promise myself that?
I couldn’t, I realized, but since there weren’t a lot of alternatives, I’d embrace what little hope of it I had. And in the meantime, I’d try to find some way out of this horrible, terrifying mess.
“Ciaran never would have killed Mrs. Sullivan,” I finally said, not sure why I said it or where the courage to voice the words came from. But I had and I was determined to keep going now. “Because Ciaran isn’t a monster. He’s a good man. Maybe he’s made some mistakes, but I know in his heart—”
Shane started laughing at me. Laughing to the point where I thought there might be tears in his eyes. He was doubled over and holding his stomach, choking up on what he thought was the funniest thing out there.
It made me more than a little angry. I wanted to shout at him, to tell him what an asshole he was, but didn’t see the point. I didn’t have any weapons. I didn’t have any way out. In the end, I was at his complete and total mercy. Did I really want to make things worse for myself?
When Shane finally managed to compose himself again, he wiped at his eyes as though swiping away tears. Then he sighed, looked at me, and said, “Oh, you pretty little thing. Aren’t you adorable? Very young. Very innocent. Very gullible. I’ll show you just what kind of man my brother is. And then you can revisit this moment between us and decide whether or not you believe me or him. Until then, you can wait in the next room, nice and cozy.”
I didn’t answer him when he called the two men from before inside. He waved them over and barked out a few quick orders. He told them to take me to the next room and tie me up. If I tried anything funny, put a bullet in my head. He said he wanted me alive, but apparently he didn’t care that much in the end. Better to have a dead body than a living one causing trouble.
It didn’t exactly
instill in me the drive to try to fight my way out, so I let the men, both toting guns now, escort me into the other room. I glanced over my shoulder once to see Shane had stopped in front of the fire and was staring down into it as though it might show him the secrets of the very universe.
I decided I thought Shane was crazy and I prayed that somehow everything would be okay. Somehow, I would get out of here.
Then I walked into the other room. The door shut behind me and the warmth of the fire went with it. I was shoved down into a hard backed chair, then tied up with zip ties. They left me ungagged, though they argued about it for a couple of minutes. Finally, the one said he wanted to be able to hear me scream.
I didn’t like the sound of that. I prayed that if Ciaran was coming for me, he came quickly, because I wasn’t quite sure what these monsters really had in store for me.
Chapter 17
Ciaran
I didn’t make it out the door, but it wasn’t for a lack of trying. Doc, Mitch, and Patrick were trailing after me, ranting about how rash I was being, how utterly stupid. And maybe they were right, but I wasn’t in the mood to listen. Not in the least.
“Damnit, boss, you’re fucking injured!” This was Doc, and if I was being honest, he had the most reasonable argument for me staying put. But it was only a temporary one, and in the end I wasn’t as inclined to listen to reason as maybe I should have been.
Who cared if I was injured? Elle could be injured, could be scared or tied up or God knew what else. And that made more of an impact on me than anything else. “I’ll heal,” I retorted, not pausing as I made my way to the door.
But the other men, those who weren’t dead or too badly injured to stand, had noticed me on the warpath. They’d gotten up and now gathered around me, murmuring between each other to try to figure out what in the hell was going on. I reached for the door, but Danny, a big man with a softy, squishy inside, stood in my way. He folded his big arms across his chest and said, “I saw you go down, boss. You ain’t fit to be doing no fighting.”
I scowled at him in irritation. “The hell I’m not.” But the man didn’t move. I saw a bloody scrape across his forehead and wondered what had happened to him during the battle, but I didn’t have the time to ask just then. He was clearly okay enough to be blocking my way out of the safe house.
Before I did anything a little risky, like pick a fight with Danny, who I may or may not have been able to take, Patrick came up to me and put his hand on my arm. “Boss, you’re injured, like Doc says. But more than that, they’ve got twice our numbers. We don’t stand a chance against them.”
I shook him off, not interested in the slightest about things like numbers and my chances for success just then. Maybe I’d go down tonight, but I’d already decided that was something I was going to have to risk. I needed to get to Elle, and while I didn’t exactly want to die for her, I’d do it if I had to. It was my fault she was in this mess. And damnit, the woman had saved my life.
Both of which were good reasons, but they weren’t the only ones. They weren’t even the most convincing ones. The real reason I needed desperately to get out that door and save Elle was because I would never be able to forgive myself if anything happened to her.
It would hurt me in the worst kind of way.
I wasn’t ready to talk about the reasons behind that, not even with myself, but I couldn’t ignore the emotion stirring in my chest. It was more noticeable than the pain in my shoulder and it spurred my anger on to intensity.
“No one’s asking any of you assholes to go with me,” I bit out for the second time that night. “I know my odds and I’m rolling with them. Y’all want to get the hell out of here? Do it. I won’t stop you. Patrick’s as good a leader as any and he’ll keep you straight. But I’m doing this.”
Danny’s face contorted as he made a torn face. He was Patrick’s little brother—ironic considering the size difference—and wasn’t opposed to him leading, but he’d been a strong supporter in my corner since the beginning. He was loyal to me as long as I was boss, which was why I was trying to ease him into the possibility that change might be coming. And fast.
After a moment, Danny let his arms drop. “Why you interested in running off to face ’em anyway? Won’t solve anything that happened tonight.”
He was of course talking about the complete and total beating we’d taken. In that respect, there was no denying he was right. I couldn’t take down the whole of the Irish Hounds alone, but that wasn’t really what I was after anyway. Not that he or anyone else knew it. With a sigh, I realized I would have to explain.
“It’s not about evening the score,” I told him, and everyone in the room listening. My tone was even and my gaze was steady. “It’s about the fact that an innocent Goddamned woman was taken tonight and I’d promised her she’d be safe. My word is good. And even if it weren’t, I owe this woman. I owe her my life. If she hadn’t found me on that damn road that night, Shane wouldn’t have been telling lies. I would have been dead. She saved me. I owe her that much of a return on the favor.”
All of it was true. Every last word. And they were decent enough reasons. I even meant them. But the boys didn’t need to know about what was going on inside me, about how much she was really starting to mean to me. No one needed to understand that, especially when I wasn’t even sure I could keep her in the end.
But they needed to know this was important. They needed to know I wasn’t willing to write her off as a casualty. They needed to know I would fight anyone who stood in front of that fucking door and tried to stop me.
I saw Danny’s eyes flicker to his brother’s. A silent conversation seemed to go on between them before Patrick again spoke up. “Alright, boss, but there is a problem that even you can’t argue with.”
I narrowed my eyes at the older of the brothers. “What’s that?”
He shrugged, for once looking apologetic as opposed to like a desperate man trying to talk reason to a crazy one. “We haven’t the fucking foggiest about where they’ve got her.”
Those words sunk in and I realized that they were right. Where the hell was I going off to guns blazing? Sure, I could get the word out to Shane and set up a meeting and under normal circumstances I could even find him for the most part. But that was when we were on even footing. That was when our numbers were just about right to be fair game between the two of us. This was entirely different, especially if Shane didn’t want to be found. I didn’t know where the Irish Hounds called their home. Hell, since the move, I didn’t even know where he called home.
“Fuck,” I cursed, realizing this last reason was the only honest thing stopping me. If I couldn’t find them, I couldn’t save Elle. “We don’t have any leads?” I ran a hand through my hair, panic beginning to work its way through my system. I didn’t want the guys to see it, but I knew I wouldn’t be able to keep it under wraps for very long.
Patrick looked around the room as though gleaning information from each one of them after only a look. He was intuitive like that, and while maybe he didn’t know what everyone knew from that look, not exactly, he could guess which, if any, knew about Shane. And when his gaze returned to me, he gave a quick shake of his head. “Sorry, boss,” he said, and it sounded sincere.
I cursed again.
I started barking orders. Half the guys were ordered to continue the cleanup. This included getting rid of the bodies, moving them to another location, and making sure the evidence of the brawl was gone. I didn’t trust Shane to not call in his dirty cops to make sure we were tagged for this kind of violence and I wanted to make sure they didn’t have anything to pin on us. Who was left, I split in half again. One group was to head into town and see if they could spot the Irish Hounds. No leathers, no identifiers, and no motorcycles. I didn’t want the Hounds to know they were Skulls, and I made sure the boys knew if something went sour, they were to get the hell out of there. It was risky, but none of my guys made even a peep of a complaint.
With the remaini
ng men, I ordered them to search what few Irish Hound bodies were lying around. I wanted to know if any of them had identifying information. Anything that might lead to a location. Hell, if they had cellphones, I wanted them.
After orders had been given, I finally sat heavily on a coffee table and let Doc patch me up proper. He ended up sewing me up—not my favorite thing in the fucking world, but it was a better shot at keeping the blood from flowing steadily and making me pass out. A bandage would have helped some, but on its own it wouldn’t have been sufficient if I wanted to go fighting. Which I did.
“Not that the stitches are going to make this go easy,” Doc muttered in irritation. He wasn’t happy about me insisting on going after Elle while injured, but he seemed resigned to the fact that I would. I was pretty sure he silently hoped we wouldn’t find anything to lead me to her.
I was beginning to think he was right in the end when I heard a cellphone ringing. I frowned when I realized it was one of the Irish Hounds. One of my guys hurried over, carrying it. He looked at me with wild eyes, so young that I wondered how he wasn’t in fucking shock over everything that had happened tonight. I made a mental snapshot of his face and promised myself I would do better at looking out for him after this.
