He had to give it to Claire. She had guts to take this on alone, but the hell she’d be alone anymore. He’d never doubted her reasons for killing Gannon—and speaking of him, Irish still hadn’t told Claire that he had no idea where Gannon’s body was.
It wouldn’t be long now before he’d have to confide in someone. Juggling all these balls in the air at once was becoming harder and harder.
Finding out Gannon was deeper into the black market than even he’d anticipated, sicker than he’d ever given the bastard credit for, made it clear he needed to at least let Mathias in on this.
And now, he had to find a way to protect Claire before Courtland found out she was the one who’d killed his brother. To protect the children of his town if Courtland was neck deep in this, too.
But Courtland claimed to know nothing about where Gannon got the synthetic blood, and while he hadn’t rooted around in his head, Irish tended to believe him. That meant there were likely many things the Dogs were completely unaware of.
Courtland was a sadistic fuck, and there was no way Irish believed if Courtland knew what his brother was doing that he wouldn’t have been all in.
But then again, it would be just like Gannon to keep vital information from his crew so he was always the one on top. Always the smug ruler of his little kingdom.
As he plodded out of the bedroom, he left it with regret. This had been a safe harbor for him and Claire, somewhere they could hide. When he was done ripping into her again, for posterity of course, he’d tell her all about how much he’d wanted to stay right here with her—forever.
The elevator dinged, signaling its arrival. When he stepped inside, Claire’s backpack was on the metal floor.
Reaching down, he scooped it up and lugged it over his shoulder. Jesus, they weren’t even officially a couple yet and he was already carrying her purse.
Some fierce, snarling vampire he was.
As the doors popped open, his phone pinged an incoming text, making him dig it out of his back pocket. He noted Liam’s number scrolling over the top of the screen.
He poked his head out into the garage, smelling the oppressive air. He didn’t give a shit how badass Mathias thought his security was. You could never be too careful.
Blood. He smelled blood—three different types of blood to be precise, so mingled together, it would take a moment for him to sort them.
His gut tightened. Motherfucker.
And that was when he saw two security guards—enormous, beefy men, sprawled on the empty garage floor, blood spilling from their heads.
Claire. He smelled her blood.
Jesus Christ, where was Claire?
His vision narrowed for a moment before righting itself, before the pounding in his head he wasn’t supposed to feel eased enough for him to see any other color but the red haze of bone-crushing fury.
Then his eyes caught sight of her sneaker, a faded pink with pristine white shoelaces, left right near one of the security guards’ bodies, with a trail of blood leading toward the exit.
Fury. So deep, so thorough it engulfed him, made him want to tear throats wide open, and smash faces to the hard pavement until they were nothing but bloody pulps.
His phone pinged again and, even enraged, he knew logically he had to check it because of Hadley. He fought for control. He fought for reason, but was there any reason when it came to his feelings about Claire?
Read the text, Irish. Then go kill people, the rational side of his brain demanded.
Irish clicked the text open, reading it—then reading it again to be sure he was seeing it correctly.
Sarah? Irish frowned, his mind clicking through the faces of the people in Rock Cove until he landed on the only Sarah he knew. Hadley’s best friend. The one who loved the library so much?
No. Fuck no.
As his mind began to race, real fear began to claw its way to the surface. So he reread the text from Liam for confirmation.
Sarah is missing. We think kidnapped. Get the fuck home now, Irish!
To Be Continued…
(Swear part five is the last part and all will be revealed! Swear it on my shoes, but for now, you know the drill. Cue evil music…)
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Dakota Cassidy is the nationally bestselling author of more than thirty books. She lives in the gorgeous state of Oregon with her real life hero and her dogs, and she loves hearing from readers!
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Fangs of Anarchy: Forbidden Alpha (Part 4) In the Zone: A Werewolf Vampire Shifter Romance Page 4
