Well, now he was pissed and insulted.
Did he look like someone who would toss his pregnant wife for money?
Silas was a douchebag.
Here was his proof.
“Tell Silas to kiss my Irish American mob ass.”
Oh, Roxy had some things to say to her grandfather, and she would. Then she was going to kick his ass when she got her hands on the old man.
This was insane.
She was a grown woman.
She was carrying a baby.
He couldn’t freaking abduct her.
“Mate, she’s pussy. You can buy more. Hand her over, and we’ll get her to her granddad.”
Okay, pissed, insulted, and homicidal.
Jagger was ready to draw blood.
“Like I told the old fart, MATE, she’s my wife, and you’ll have to go through me,” Jagger stated.
They laughed even more.
Apparently, they thought because Jagger was shorter, stockier, and not carrying a crowbar, that he was going to be easy.
Screw that.
There was nothing easy about him. He may have wanted to be a teacher, but he’d been a Marine. They taught you to fight, and fight dirty when the time had come.
Well, tick tock, that time was now.
He was fighting for his wife and child. He grew up with a man like Silas Reed bossing him around, and that wasn’t happening to his child.
Men like that…they took what they wanted, they didn’t care about people’s feelings, and in the end, it would always get someone hurt.
Look at his mother, Dianna.
She’d died by his father’s heavy hand.
“You can call Silas, and you can tell him to take his money and shove it. I won’t toss my woman. Then you can tell him that you’ll never work for him again.”
They laughed.
“Oh, will you be now?”
“Yeah, when I beat the shit out of both of you, you’ll learn to be more selective with your ‘jobs’.”
Roxy didn’t want to watch this.
She was stuck between the man she loved, and a man who saved her after a childhood of shittiness.
She didn’t want to hurt Silas.
Only, it was time for him to stop the insanity.
“Don’t do this,” Roxy warned, as they moved closer to Jagger. He may have looked calm, but she could see the tension in his body. Her husband was dangerous, and she could see his whole body going taut. He was ready to strike.
“Oh, you’re a funny girl. If you weren’t Silas’s granddaughter, I might like to have at a pretty little lass like you to make my meals and clean my house.”
“Jagger?” she called.
“Yes, honey?”
“Kick his ass for being a misogynistic dick.”
Well, if that’s what she wanted to remember their time in Cork, who was he to argue?
He didn’t hesitate.
Jagger struck, taking the first man down with a fist punch to the solar plexus. The guy hit the ground like a wheezing ton of brick. He then began beating the hell out of the man with the crowbar.
He pummeled his face, getting blood all over his knuckles.
When the first guy got up, ready to hit Jagger with the discarded crowbar, Roxy grabbed a trashcan and slammed it onto his head.
He fell.
“Thanks, honey,” Jagger said, wiping the blood on the downed man’s shirt. “Remind me to take you into the next fight. You’re mean with a trashcan.”
Tears filled her eyes. “I’m sorry. Oh, God! I can’t believe he’s done this.”
Oh, he did.
He pulled her into his arms “Shhhh, baby. This is not on you, but if you think I’m going to let Silas near Dianna, that’s never going to happen. You’re mine. She’s mine.”
She got it.
Silas had sealed his fate. He’d really screwed this up, and Roxy knew the man before her.
He didn’t take this shit lightly.
“We should go. I hear sirens,” she said, worried he’d get arrested. Then the jig would be up.
They needed to move.
And fast.
Jagger saw a steel door at the front of the alley. He hoped the owners wouldn’t be too pissed. He booted it, and dragged his wife inside just as Garda came rushing out of the bakery’s back door.
He jammed a chair under the doorknob, and prayed it would buy them some time.
For now, they’d escaped.
Well, now they had one hell of a problem to contend with in that city.
Cork was compromised, and that meant his flat was too. He needed to get them out, and that meant one thing.
He called in backup.
He called in the woman who extricated him so many times before.
Maura would come to the rescue.
She always did.
* * * O R A C L E * * *
Adare
Special Detective’s Unit
One Twenty-Five
Main Street
They were just about to head into the building to break the news to the man. He was going to be getting the surprise of his life. When Oracle rolled into town, things were bound to change.
They knew it was him, simply because Maura had tracked the detective to the office with Avalon’s help describing him. Honestly, it wasn’t hard.
They’d followed him most of the way, and he hadn’t even noticed. The goofball was whistling and saying hello to everyone.
Was he the male version of Mary freaking Poppins?
Seriously?
At first, she’d prayed it wasn’t him, but he was the only man on the street who looked like a cop. He had dark hair, was walking in a suit, and he had a dog following him.
Damn!
Things were laid back here in Ireland.
Clearly, if the guy was bringing his dog to work.
“I think we’re set,” she said, when Avalon, Nate, and Luke glanced over. “He’s alone in there, so this might be the best time to hit him up.”
It would also mean no one would be there to witness the crazy, or to kick their asses.
Maura was good with that.
As she was about to head across the street, her cell rang, making her jump.
It was Jagger’s number.
“He has horrible timing,” she stated.
“Get it. It’s important,” Avalon stated. “He’s in trouble, and he needs you.”
That was all she needed to hear. This was her fear. They’d tricked fate and saved him once. Was this what was going to happen until that fickle bitch won?
Maura answered it. “Captain?”
“I need extrication for two. Asap. We’re at Saint Patrick’s Quay, hiding out. Latitude fifty-one, longitude negative eight point four.”
She made notes on her watch.
“Are you safe?”
“The Garda are looking for us. Roxy’s grandfather tried to abduct her. I had to handle it. Let’s just say in Ireland, it’s harder to hide the bodies.”
She got it.
That was their code.
Jagger was worked up, and he needed a way out. That meant it was time for Maura to do what she did best.
“I can be there in an hour. When you see me, call again. I’ll walk down the street.”
He was ready. “Thanks, Maura. My house and car are compromised. I don’t know how many men he has here, so I don’t have long. Once the assholes are awake, I’m sure they’ll call for backup.”
“Stay inside a building, eat some food, and I’m on my way.”
He would do that.
“Thank you. I love you.”
That made her get all mushy. “I love you, too, Captain. Be safe.”
She hung up.
“Go,” Avalon stated. “I’m safe. Nate and Luke will have my back. Get them back to Graymoor.”
Nate agreed. He’d been listening, and it sounded dire. Add to that the end where they said they loved each other.
That didn’t bode well.
<
br /> Maura didn’t do mush.
She was a Marine.
Maura didn’t like leaving Avalon out in the open, but this was Ireland. She fit in with all the other sunny haired moppets. She was hiding in plain sight.
“I can’t do this alone. I’m going to grab Bishop. She needs to learn how to do this in case we’re down a person again.”
They got it.
Their team had a few weak spots. Losing Jagger, even if it was only for his honeymoon, had compromised them.
“Be safe,” she said, kissing her husband and then dropping her baseball cap onto her head.
She was clearly in military mode.
They watched her walk away.
“We’re good. You have nothing to worry about,” Avalon stated.
They hoped she was right.
This could go seven ways to shit, and the only backup they had was off to rescue another Marine.
Well, it was game time.
They followed Avalon’s lead.
At the door, they noticed the sign by the entrance. It had a detective’s name.
“Laird Maguire,” Nate said, making note of it. They would be doing some research later on the man. Just because Avalon trusted him, he liked to make sure he covered all of his bases.
Call him crazy.
They’d been burned by crazy before.
At the door, Luke headed in first. It was a simple office. There were four desks, three of which were empty. There was the man Maura had followed, sitting behind a desk while he flipped through some files.
He looked up as soon as they entered.
“Yes?” he asked. “Is there something I can help you with?” Laird asked.
It was her game, and they had to let her handle it.
Avalon crouched down. “Molly, come here.”
The dog immediately left her master’s side, heading straight for Avalon.
“Uh, hello?” he asked. “What are you doing with my dog?” he asked, getting that worried feeling in his gut. Something was off. He’d been sitting there thinking about Brianna, and then this.
“We need to talk,” Avalon said. “Gentlemen,” she said, giving them the cue.
Luke locked the door and closed the colorful shutters on the one window.
Laird didn’t like this.
It reeked of the trouble he’d seen in Dublin. The mob ran rampant there, and the woman, while not Irish, could easily be part of that mess.
Besides, he could spot trouble a mile away.
“Who are you, and what do you want?” he asked.
“We need to speak to you, Detective Maguire,” Avalon said, petting the dog.
When both men headed toward him, he called for Molly. Normally, she’d protect him.
Then again, today she chased after a stranger.
Molly stayed by the woman.
Laird stepped back, and contemplated his next move. First, he’d warn them, and then…
Then what?
“I’m going to warn you that anything you do to me will get you arrested.”
Nate and Luke pulled out their badges. While they wouldn’t do them any good, they were hoping it would work.
He eyed up the American FBI badge.
“You have no jurisdiction here,” he stated, reaching for his desk drawer.
“Gun, second drawer, it’s loaded,” Avalon warned, moving toward the chair, as she used Molly to guide her.
Laird looked worried.
She’d been right. What she said was true.
He almost NEVER carried a gun. The Garda didn’t unless they had special permits and reasons. He used it when he was alone there—in case something went south with the local mob.
Now he had to weigh his options—carefully.
“It’s not in a holster,” she said, moving closer.
He was getting nervous.
“How did you know that?” he asked. “What the hell is going on here?” he asked.
Luke pulled open the drawer and removed the Sig. He discharged it and dropped it back into the drawer. They didn’t want his gun.
They just didn’t want to get shot.
“I know everything about you, Detective.” Avalon began. It was time for her to do her thing.
Nate shoved the man down in his chair. He could tell that Laird was getting ready to fight his way out of there, and they didn’t want to hurt him.
Oh, he’d try, but he’d fail.
It was written all over his face.
Nate knew what a trapped animal looked like, and this was it. They were always the worst fights. Someone almost always got hurt.
This man was expecting the worst.
“Nate, he’s going to…”
Nate was ready for it. He didn’t need Avalon’s warning. When he pinned the man to the desk, Nate grabbed the detective’s handcuffs and locked them in place.
He wasn’t swinging anymore.
“When I’m out, I’m going to make sure you three go to jail,” he warned, trying to get free.
“No, you really won’t,” Avalon stated.
He stared at her. “Who the bloody hell are you?”
She smiled at him.
It began.
She reached into her mind, trying to find his. She had to locate that sweet spot so she could open his third eye.
It was tricky.
“Don’t you recognize me, Laird? I was in your house, I was in your dreams. I was the voice in your head. We spoke the last few nights.”
He stared at her.
“What?”
She knew she’d get him to open that third eye, once he admitted he’d heard her.
“Say my name,” she said, leaning over the desk. When she touched his face, she focused on his mind.
‘You heard me just like now. I’m here to help you,’ she whispered into his mind. ‘You need me. Say my name.’
He fought.
In his head, there was a swirl of chaos. All the visions that he’d had in his dreams the last few weeks came rushing back. They played out in his mind, clearer, less cloudy, and with one familiar face in all of them.
“Oracle?” he whispered.
She grabbed a tissue from her pocket. “He’s going to need this. His third eye is open. He’s about to get a nosebleed and a really bad headache.”
No sooner had it come out of her mouth, it happened. Nate took the tissue and held it to his nose.
Laird screamed.
The pain hit like a ton of bricks.
And Avalon was, as usual, right.
* * * O R A C L E * * *
After picking up Bishop, she and Maura hightailed it to Cork. She’d driven Lucian’s Land Cruiser like she’d stolen it, and behind her she was leaving chaos.
Cars got out of her way as she flew down the ‘N-twenty’ to reach her brother Marine.
Flew might not explain it.
She was more like a bat leaving Hell.
The entire time, Bishop, her captive for the scary adventure, held on for dear life.
She knew two things.
One—she was never going anywhere with Maura again.
Two—she was going to miss her sexy husband when this maniac crashed.
“You’re going to freaking get us killed, and I’d like to molest my sexy pirate again before I die!” she yelped, holding on to the dash like she was going to go through the windshield.
Maura was focused. “I’ve driven this road before in the dark with no headlights and while being chased by some killer. Just close your eyes, hold on, and stop bitching like a girl.”
The gears ground as she manually shifted.
It was one of the worst sounds she’d ever heard, and Bishop wasn’t a car person. She knew her husband’s sexy luxury ride was NEVER going to be the same again.
It was toast.
As they approached Cork in half the time it would take to normally get there, Bishop warned her. “If you drive like this into the city, we’re getting tagged. He’s fine. Calm the hell down. Do you wan
t the Garda to see that fake badge and call the FBI?”
That seemed to have worked on her.
Maura relaxed.
She shifted, slowing them down.
“Jesus! Thank you!” Bishop whispered, trying to remember how to breathe.
“Sorry,” Maura stated.
Bishop looked over.
That was odd. Maura didn’t do mush or apologies. That wasn’t her thing.
“What’s wrong?” Bishop asked.
Maura was scared.
That was all there was to it. She didn’t want anything to happen to Jagger. She had that sick feeling in her gut, and it was making her nervous.
“Nothing.”
“You’re scowling, and that means there is definitely something wrong.”
Maura looked over as they got stuck behind some blue haired granny in a tiny clown car.
“I can’t wait to go home,” she muttered. “The cars here would fit into the back of Luke’s Hummer.”
Bishop was good at reading people.
She’d been a sheriff, and her daddy had been too. Bishop had learned everything from that man, and right now, he’d be digging into what was ailing this woman.
“You’re scared for him, aren’t you?”
She glanced over. “Shut it, or I’ll punch you in your pretty face.”
Bishop laughed. “You’re not scary.”
She growled more.
“I look at it this way,” Bishop offered. “You can tell me now, or I can inconveniently ask while Jagger is in the ride. Now, who’s that going to humiliate? The answer isn’t me.”
Maura’s mouth dropped open.
“YOU WOULDN’T!”
“Oh, sister, I would and I will. You see, I go by one premise in life. Curiosity killed the cat.”
She closed her mouth.
Bishop whistled and pretended to check out her manicure. She knew who was going to win.
Five.
Four.
Three…
“FINE! I’m worried.”
Well, she’d caved sooner than she thought.
“About?”
“We saved him, but what if fate switches it up. Avalon struggled to get him in the clear. What if it’s temporary? What if now we have to outrace something we have no control over? What if the death that comes is a million times worse since I screwed with fate?”
Oracle Haunting (The Phoenix Files Book 4) Page 8
