Stranded: A Mountain Man Romance

by Piper Sullivan

  Shamrock ran his hands over the cold scalpel and sighed theatrically. And then he nodded at Vince, his henchman. This was it, Sully thought and prepared himself for the worse. He had made peace with death when he first joined the Labyrinths Cartel, they all did. A sworn oath of blood to their brothers was far more valuable than life itself. He had nothing left to lose, they had already killed his wife.

  Orchestral music filled the abandoned warehouse, the acoustics causing it to echo in the empty space. Then Shamrock moved over to where he was tied up to the chair and dragged the blunt side of the scalpel across his neck.

  “I’m going to ask you one last time Sully, where is Irish?”

  “I’m not tellin ya anythin’ you can suck my cock for all that I care,” he gargled.

  Without a word, Shamrock pressed the cold blade against the top of his ear and sliced right through, cutting the shell of Sully’s ear clean off. Sully cried out in pain, huffed and cussed as he shook in the chair. The pain was excruciating.

  “Boss,” one of Shamrocks’ men interrupted.

  “What?”

  “The lad at the grocery store called, he spotted Irish there this morning so Irish must still be in town.”

  Sully cursed inwardly and gritted his teeth, what the fuck would Irish still be doing here in Boston? He should have been long gone by now.

  “Are you sure?” Shamrock asked.

  “Aye, he swore on his life,” the boy confirmed.

  “Well then I’m sure we will find him sooner or later.”

  Shamrock handed the scalpel to his henchman Vince and muttered a blank, “Finish him,” before pulling his leather gloves off and getting into the car parked a few feet away.

  The torture was finally over, and he would finally meet his maker and be with his wife, he thought peacefully. Even before the bullet penetrated his skull he already breathed out his last breath.

  Liam “Irish”

  I entered the Saint Lorde’s Catholic Church through the rear entrance and scanned the hall for anything suspicious. Nothing appeared out of the ordinary, to my left I saw Father Callaghan and nodded at him. We both entered the confession booth at the same time, and I knelt down and waited for the door to slide open.

  “Forgive me Father for I have sinned, it’s been two weeks since my last confession,” I whispered.

  “Why have you taken so long to confess your sins my son?”

  “I’ve been working very hard.”

  Callaghan slid a small piece of paper under the frame that separated the two booths and I opened it up, it read—The Shamrock is feeling lucky.

  I cursed inwardly and crumpled up the piece of paper. This was not good news, I needed to get out of here, get to Alana and hit the road. Hanging around was no longer an option.

  “I killed two men in cold blood,” I said.

  “Alright, say five Our Fathers for your penance.”

  “Thank you, Father.”

  With that, I waited for him to exit first, no tap followed and I knew I was safe. Without looking anyone directly in the eyes, I headed into the back of the church, grabbed a nun’s robe and cape and put it on. It was a wee bit short, but for the time being it would cover me, mostly. I exited the same way I came. Time was of the essence now. If Shamrock, the head of the Bronx Raiders, was still in town, it meant that they had eyes all over. Retracing my steps, mentally I recalled where I had been in the last two hours. But nothing suspicious stood out. I glanced towards where my car was parked and then looked up and down the street. I didn’t notice anyone lurking around, but I knew using the car would be too risky. Instead I scanned the street for another car. Luckily, I spotted a cab and I flagged it down. The cab pulled up, and I slipped into the back seat. Immediately I pulled out my gun and held it against the driver’s head.

  “Do exactly as I say, and no one has to die today,” I whispered through gritted teeth.

  The cab driver froze and held up his hands.

  “Keep dem hands on the wheel and head down 3rd, then take a left on Saxton Avenue. Once there, I’m going to drop you and take your cab.”

  The driver nodded nervously and drove down 3rd while I sat back, keeping my head low and the gun pointed at the back of the driver’s seat.

  “Don’t think of trying anything clever, I’ve killed for less,” I told the driver.

  “Please sir, if you could just…”

  “Shut the fuck up, just get to Saxton and I’ll let you go,” I promised.

  We drove for 5 min then he turned into Saxton Avenue. I instructed him to turn into the next alley. The moment the cab came to a stop, I nudged the gun against the man’s head and said, “Now you stay dead quiet, any sudden moves will cost you more than just your cab.”

  I got out and dragged the fearful man out of the cab then pushed him up against the wall. I held up a picture of his wife and kids, which I plucked from a string hanging on the rear-view mirror.

  “See this, I know where you live. If you breathe a word to anyone, I’ll cut them up and feed them to the fucking dogs,” I growled.

  The man nodded frantically, his eyes wide and full of tears. I pulled him by his shirt and shoved him in between the two dumpsters and hijacked the cab. It was already 8:42 AM, I had less than 15 minutes to get back to the cabin for Alana, and get back on the road before Shamrock and his men find us. The moment the cab driver gets to the police, it’s only a matter of minutes before Shamrock and his goons track this cab.

  I couldn’t exceed the speed limit either, the last thing I needed now was to get pulled over for a traffic violation that would only fuck things up even more.

  Soon enough I pulled up to the cabin, 9:10 am. I rushed up the stairs only to find Alana with the pistol pointed straight at me. Without thinking twice, I launched myself at her, carefully disarming her. She couldn’t follow a simple instruction to leave the cabin, was the first thing that crossed my mind.

  “What the fuck Alana!” I shouted and unloaded the gun then flicked the safety back on, “Why are you still here, I gave you strict instructions.”

  “I-I… I didn’t know if I should wait-oh my god, I almost shot you!” she heaved hysterically.

  “Calm the fuck down,” I said and impulsively pulled her into my arms. On the one hand, I was pissed that she even considered taking the Bronx Raiders on, on the other hand I was relieved that I didn’t still have to waste time trekking to the bunker to find her before we could hit the road.

  I pushed her away and held her at arm’s length, “Look at me, we have to get going. We can’t stay here any longer. I need you to pack what you can but pack lightly; you can use the backpack, we’ll stop at the next town and get the necessities,” I instructed and continued without a pause, “Are you okay on a bike?”

  What the hell was I on about? Who cares if she was okay with a bike, but she nodded. Her eyes still wide with shock.

  “Good, now hurry and pack what you can, I’ll get the bike.”

  Irish

  In less than twenty minutes we were back on the road, I gave Alana one of my jackets to keep her shielded against the elements. We had no time to waste; I need to get to the next state if I was going to keep ahead of Shamrock.

  Alana’s arms were wound tightly around my waist, and her head ducked low behind me; I couldn’t even begin to imagine what was going on in her mind. A carefree existence suddenly ripped away from her and now she was on the run, with a man who couldn’t keep his shit together. I rode like a demon on a mission, about two hours out, we pulled up to a gas station to fill up and to get a bite to eat. Since leaving the cabin there had been no time for conversation. To be honest, I hadn’t a clue what to say to her.

  “I’m going to the ladies’ room,” she mumbled as she hugged the leather jacket around her.

  “I’ll go with you,” I said as I pushed the bike in next to the building, obscuring it from the road.

  “You’re not going in with me.”

  “No, I’m not going in with you, I just nee
d to make sure it’s all safe.”

  “Ugh, they have no idea where we went, I’ll be fine.”

  Needless to say, I went with her, and stood outside until she came back out.

  “We can grab a quick bite to eat, then we need to head out,” I said as we made our way back towards the bike.

  “Sure,” she muttered.

  “Alana, are you okay?” I asked.

  “Just peachy,” she said. Yeah it was a dumb question, she wasn’t okay. And I had to understand the fact that she was dealing with a shit load at the moment. Strangely enough, I wasn’t feeling the intense attraction from earlier in the morning. Call it trepidation, or maybe it was the fact that I helped myself in the shower. Right now she was just a frightened little bird who I need to protect.

  The convenience store’s door chime jingled as we entered. “Grab a few things, when we get to the next state we’ll have a proper meal.”

  Alana nodded and made her way through to the fridges at the back of the store while I grabbed a few chocolate bars and snacks. The teller was a fat greasy bastard who vegetated behind the television screen and hardly took note of us.

  “Excuse me, where are your road maps?” I asked.

  He looked at me and then pointed to the shelf behind him, “Well can I get one?”

  With a sigh that would kill all surrounding vegetation, he stood up and waddled to the shelf, took one of the maps and dropped it carelessly on the counter. Service in some of these places was shocking, I thought as I piled the rest of the stuff on the counter. While I waited for Alana, I took the time to page through a newspaper, hoping to see some good news on Fergus, but there was nothing yet. He was still on the most wanted list. The sound of a V8 engine drew my attention, and when I looked out the faded dirty windows, I noticed two of Shamrock’s guys.

  “Fuck,” I cursed under my breath, as I ducked behind the counter and crouched my way to where Alana was still making up her mind on what to drink, “Do whatever I say, and do not try anything stupid.”

  “Hey! Are you going to pay for this stuff?” the teller asked when he stood up.

  I pulled out my gun and pointed it straight at him, “If you want to fucking live, you’ll do exactly as I say. Those two men out there…” I started, “Don’t look at them, just do what I say.”

  He nodded, eyes wide and fearful, “If they ask you, if you saw us, you just say no. Play it cool and you’ll live to see another day, if you utter one word to them I swear I’ll shoot you myself.”

  “Is it them?” Alana asked in a panic as I pulled her around to the back of the store and next to the fire exit.

  “Yes, and we need to move fast. They don’t know we’re here yet.”

  “But what if they see us?” she asked nervously.

  “They won’t,” I said far more confidently than I felt.

  The door jingled again, and I shoved her in behind a stack of boxes, and held my finger up over my mouth, “Don’t move,” I mouthed.

  I peeked towards the counter. One bald guy was stacking his arms full of snacks while the other one leaned against the counter. I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but at least it looked like the cashier was keeping as cool as he could. I watched for about two minutes, when the one against the counter reached into his breast pocket. He pulled out a gun and put it on the counter. Chubby cheeks stepped back and held up his hands, his eyes darting from the man to the door where I stood. Fuck! I should have shot him myself, I thought. Footsteps drew closer, and I shoved myself into the corner with Alana, cupping my hand over her mouth. The darkness lent some protection, but if those goons came any closer, someone was going to get hurt.

  The footsteps stopped just next to the door, when I heard chubby cheeks speak up, “The couple you’re looking for left about thirty minutes ago, I swear,” he called, “The guy and a girl with red hair.”

  The footsteps moved away from the door and I let out a sigh of relief, hoping they would buy the story. Then a single shot rang out. Alana gasped and I tightened my hand over her mouth. They had shot the teller in cold blood, now it was only a matter of time before they found us. But much to my surprise, I heard the screeching of tires as they sped off.

  “Oh my god, they shot that guy?!” Alana cried out hysterically the moment I let her go.

  “Wait here,” I ordered as I ducked low and crawled out of the storage room, I kept low as I made my way to the counter. The teller was shot point blank in the head and his brains were splattered all over the cigarette shelf behind him. Looking up I noticed the security light blinking, which means he had reached for the panic button giving me probably about ten minutes to get out of here. I rushed around the counter careful not to touch anything and found the video surveillance. I used the hem of my shirt to push the eject button and then grabbed the disk. We had no time to waste. I went back to the storage room and plucked Alana up by her arm, instead of using the front door, we went out the back.

  “Is he dead?” Alana asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Should we not call the police?”

  “Trust me sweetheart, they’re already on the way, and if they find us, we’ll be behind bars in no time.”

  “But we can’t just leave him like that?” she continued.

  I know she was scared and confused, but I needed her to get a grip and fast. The sooner she realized that life isn’t a box of chocolates and a bed of roses, the better. I grabbed her by her shoulders and shook her lightly, “Alana, listen to me. The cops, the FBI and the whole fucking country is going to hunt you down. Simply because you’re Fergus’ daughter. Now I’m going to be as blunt as I can be. You’re a fugitive, and that’s that. Get on the fucking bike,” I ground out and handed her the helmet.

  I started the bike and waited for her to get on, but she just stood frozen.

  “Alana! Get on the god damn bike.”

  Realization swept over her and she launched herself on to the back of the bike and we sped off.

  Alana

  This cannot possibly be happening! I’m supposed to be in college, go to class, and hang out with my friends. Instead I’m a fugitive who just witnessed a cold-blooded murder. Something had to give; somehow this had to be a monumental mistake. I had to get hold of my dad and find out exactly what was going on. It was already dark when Irish pulled up to a store somewhere in Ludlow. We had travelled across the state line into Pennsylvania.

  “Where are you going?” I asked nervously as he pulled the bike off into an alley.

  “Wait here,” he simply said.

  I was a nervous wreck, and even though I was wearing a thick leather jacket, it felt as if my bones were frozen icicles. Not because it was cold, but because I was stiff as hell and scared as shit. I walked to the end of the alley, trying to see if I could spot Irish, but he had disappeared. What if he left me behind? I wondered as I chewed my thumb nail, something I always did when I was nervous. Pacing back and forth I started to work myself up, wondering what would happen if I did go to the police. I mean seriously I don’t have a criminal record, what could they possibly have against me? Across the road, I spotted a phone booth. It stood out like a winning lottery ticket, and just as I aimed to head towards it, Irish reappeared, carrying camping gear.

  “What’s that for?” I asked confused.

  “We’re going camping,” he said and secured the tent on the back of the bike.

  “Are we not going to stay here?” I asked nervously.

  “No, it’s too risky,” he said flatly.

  “But where are we going to…”

  “I don’t know, we’ll find a spot, get on the bike.”

  “Irish, why don’t we just call the cops, they don’t have anything against me, so maybe they can, I don’t know… help?” I said exasperatedly.

  Irish leaned on the bike and dropped his head, “Alana, your dad is a part of the Irish mafia, and he’s a wanted man…”

  “What?!” I asked in shock.

  “There are things you don’t k
now about your dad, about his entire enterprise, I’m not just some white collar who sits behind a desk all day, I think you already know that,” he started.

  This was too much; it felt as if my head was spinning. Bending over I put my hands on my knees and shook my head, “Why didn’t he ever tell me?” I muttered.

  “Well hopefully you’ll get to ask him yourself soon.”

  Irish placed his hand on the back of my neck, and crouched down beside me, “Alana, I’m a hit man and I know that you have no reason to trust me, but I made a promise to Fergus to keep you alive, and if that’s all I end up doing, then that’s enough. Now we cannot hang around here. By now I’m sure the FBI had started their man hunt, we cannot book into hotels.”

  I was crying, not hysterically, just weeping. My entire life had been a complete lie. All this time, my dad was in the mafia and I didn’t even know that. Exasperated, I stood up and reached for the helmet. I had switched into autopilot mode, put the helmet on, get on the bike, run, trust Irish, and that was it. There was no time to reminisce about what could have or should have happened. I was on the run with a hit man. My dad’s most trusted, I don’t even know what to call him… friend, or colleague. By now I was sure that my poster was up on store windows right next to his, and I’ve most certainly been suspended from college. My life as I knew it was over.

  We drove for another twenty minutes or so before he turned off onto to a dirt road, more like a hiking trail really, and I had no idea where we were. The ride was bumpy and my butt was hurting already. I was literally counting down the seconds hoping he would stop soon so that I could stretch my legs and clear the fog in my brain. I kept recalling memories of my dad, trying to see how I could have missed so much. Surely at some point in my life I should have realized that my father wasn’t just any dad. But he had kept me at arm’s length, shoving me into boarding schools. Not that I complained, the boarding schools were pretty awesome. Only the best for his little girl, if only I knew then that the money used was tainted. I had so many questions with so little answers.