Midnight Captive

by Elle Kennedy

  Flannery’s gaze flicked at Sean. “Cillian Kelly, huh? And you’re certain Kelly will take orders from me?”

  Sean knew a test when he saw one—Flannery was trying to figure out if Sean had tipped Rabbit off about where Cillian’s true loyalties lay.

  “He won’t have a choice,” Rabbit answered. “He’ll be unhappy at first, but if you throw enough cash at him, he’ll warm up to the idea eventually. But I ain’t gonna lie—Kelly’s not your biggest fan.”

  Flannery said, “I see.”

  Sean swallowed his relief, knowing he’d passed the test. Flannery believed he hadn’t revealed Cillian as the mole, and it was all thanks to Rabbit, whose ignorance about Kelly’s status had ensured that his words held nothing but truth.

  With an indifferent look, Sean eased away from the men. “I’m afraid you two will have to hammer out the rest of the details without me. I have somewhere I need to be.”

  “No.” Flannery’s sharp voice stopped him. “You stay until we’re through.”

  “No,” he mimicked. “My girl’s waiting for me in the car, and we have a flight to catch.” He gave a pointed look. “We’re heading to Colorado tonight. You remember who’s in Colorado, don’t you, Ronan? Bailey’s mother, who, by the way, needs to be transferred to a different facility. One that isn’t teeming with your snipers.”

  Flannery wasn’t the least bit apologetic. “That doesn’t sound like a very safe environment,” he said with a smirk. “You’re right to move her. Although . . . well, anywhere she goes, it’ll leave a trail. I hope you realize that.”

  Sean acknowledged the barely veiled threat with a curt nod. “I’ll be sure to leave you some bread crumbs.” He turned to Rabbit. “I’ll ring you when I’m back in Dublin. We’ll catch a pint.”

  “Sounds good, lad.”

  Sean’s gaze found Flannery’s again. “I’ll be in touch. And I mean that, Ronan. I promised Rabbit I’d watch your every move if you inherit the Dagger. I’ll be watching the boys—Quinn and O’Neill and Doherty and even fuckin’ Kelly—to make sure you keep your promise not to harm them.”

  “And if I break that promise?”

  Sean just smiled.

  “Fair enough,” the man chuckled.

  Sean walked off, keeping his strides casual as he headed for the door. But inside he was a ball of tension, painfully aware of Flannery’s dark eyes fixed on his retreating back. He sensed suspicion in the air, but not a deadly amount of it. Not enough to indicate that Flannery was onto them.

  When he stepped outside, he released the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, shooting an uncaring look at the guards by the door.

  “Your boss and my boss are still negotiating,” he told them. “A car will be here in twenty minutes to collect O’Hare. Black sedan, black rims. Do me a favor and don’t shoot it up. Rabbit won’t be happy if you fuck with his ride home.”

  One guard remained stone-faced, but the other cracked a smile. “Gotcha,” he said.

  Sean strode past them, battling a rush of amazement as he made his way back to the car.

  Jesus Christ. He’d done it. He’d gotten out of there with his skin intact.

  Now it was time for Rabbit to do his part.

  “Is it done?”

  Bailey’s urgent inquiry greeted him when he slid into the driver’s seat. He rested both hands on the steering wheel, released another breath of relief, and shook his head. “Not yet. But soon.”

  He jerked when a warm hand covered one of his. “Are you okay?”

  Sean slowly met her eyes. He knew damn well that now wasn’t the time to have this conversation, not when they were parked a hundred yards from the warehouse, but he couldn’t stop the confession. “I love you, you know.”

  She blinked, and then a soft laugh spilled out. “Well. Look at that. You actually decided to tell me this time, instead of shouting it at me.”

  He shifted sheepishly in his seat. “I’m sorry. I know I shout at you sometimes, luv. But that’s only because you do my bloody head in.”

  “No way, dude. I’m not taking responsibility for you being a brute.”

  There was humor in her eyes, but her words evoked a stab of frustration. “I know you think there’s a lot of bad in me, but there’s a lot of good in me too. I really wish you could see that.”

  Bailey’s expression grew tortured. “I do see it.”

  “Do you really mean that?”

  She nodded.

  “Then I have one question to ask you. And your answer is going to determine whatever happens from this point forward.” He breathed in deeply. “Do you love me, Bailey?”

  * * *

  “He’s a belligerent son of a bitch, isn’t he?” Ronan stared in the direction Reilly had gone before turning to chuckle at Rabbit.

  He chuckled back, because feck, he couldn’t deny it. Reilly was one of a kind. Smarter than he gave himself credit for, ruthless as shite when he needed to be, and so goddamn cocky it sometimes made Rabbit want to give the kid a hearty kick in the balls.

  “Just like his father,” Rabbit said with a grin. “Remember some of the stunts Colin used to pull? Before he married Leah? Shite, when he started that brawl over at Hannigan’s that time? Got right up in that white supremacist’s face and stabbed him in the gut with a broken billiards stick.”

  Ronan’s lips twitched. “That bastard never did know how to handle his liquor.”

  They fell silent. The humor faded, replaced by the ever-present tension that had plagued their lives since they’d lost Maureen, God bless her soul. But before that, they’d been brothers. Rabbit hadn’t forgotten, and when he looked into his old friend’s eyes now, he knew Ronan hadn’t either.

  “I loved her, too, Ronan.”

  The other man’s shock hung in the air, mingling with the silence that followed.

  “Did you hear me?” Rabbit muttered. “I loved her, you bastard. Maybe even more than you did—because I can remember holding her in my arms when she was just a baby. Because she was part of my life long before you entered hers. She was my sister, and I fecking loved her.”

  Ronan looked shaken.

  “She would whip us raw if she knew what we’ve become,” Rabbit said sourly. “That’s why I came here tonight—to end the madness. To end the bloody war that’s been poisoning our lives since the day Maureen died.”

  Flannery’s features hardened for a beat. Then he wheezed out a breath and spoke with such anguish that Rabbit’s head lifted in surprise.

  “I miss her.”

  Rabbit nodded. “So do I. Every fecking day.” He swallowed. “But I’ll be seeing her soon, y’know. At least if all those Hail Marys I said and all the rosaries I clutched secured me a place in heaven.”

  A cloud of sorrow floated through Ronan’s eyes. “Give her . . .” He cleared his throat. “Give her a kiss from me when you see her, Eamon.”

  “I’ll do that, Ronan.” Rabbit reached into his pocket and fished out the phone Reilly had given him, pretending to check the time. “It’s getting late. Whaddaya say I put you in contact with Kelly and the two of you can discuss among yourselves what to do after I meet my maker.”

  He tapped a finger on the keypad. Speed dial one, Reilly had told him.

  “By the way,” he said absently. “I did it again.”

  Ronan frowned. “What?”

  “Only did it twice in the years I’ve been heading up the Dagger,” he continued. “Including tonight, of course.”

  “What the feck are you talking about?” his former friend and oldest enemy demanded.

  Rabbit held up the phone and smiled. “I didn’t call ahead.”

  Chapter 25

  Do you love me, Bailey?

  Sean’s question hovered over the car like a canopy, dampening Bailey’s palms and making her pulse race. But she shouldn’t be this nervous. All she had to do was open her mouth and tell him—

  The explosion that rocked the warehouse shook their car on its axis, sending Bailey’s head int
o the dashboard. Pain shot through her forehead, but it wasn’t strong enough to disorient her, and the shriek of her pulse in her ears didn’t muffle Sean’s loud expletive.

  “We have to get out of here,” he said urgently, and then his foot slammed on the gas pedal and the car went careening forward.

  Bailey stared out the window with wide eyes. The warehouse was engulfed in flames. Chunks of cement cracked off the exterior and fell to the ground, along with pieces of the slightly slanted roof. All the windows had shattered, glass flying out in all directions and littering the asphalt in front of the building. The two men who’d been standing at the entrance were . . . gone. Bailey couldn’t even see their bodies—the smoke was too thick, the flames too intense.

  Tires squealed as Sean sped away from the conflagration. “Bloody hell,” he burst out. A mixture of regret and amazement clung to his voice. “That son of a bitch did it. He actually did it.”

  She knew he was talking about O’Hare and the crazy sacrifice he’d just made, but Bailey was more concerned about the possible fallout. Flannery had posted other men around the perimeter, and if any of them had survived, they were no doubt chasing them at that moment.

  But there were no headlights in the rearview mirror, no vehicles riding their bumper or gunshots being fired in their direction.

  “Do you even know where you’re going?” she demanded as the car hurtled down the dark road in the opposite direction from which they’d come.

  Sean chuckled. “Course I do. Did I ever tell you about the time Ollie and I decided we wanted to haul cargo for a living? We used to hang around the port begging the dockmaster to hire us, so trust me, I know every inch of this—”

  The other car came out of nowhere, smashing into the driver’s side and sending their vehicle spinning. Bailey screamed as Sean lost control of the wheel, and suddenly the car was flipping, rolling, the crunch of metal and scrape of pavement deafening her ears.

  The acrid scent of oil and gasoline stung her eyes, flooded her nostrils. The seat belt kept her plastered to her seat, but the forceful collision had caused her head to bounce against the window, blurring her vision.

  She became aware of the silence. The stillness. The car was no longer flipping. It was back in the right position, wheels on the ground and roof up top.

  “You okay?” Sean’s frantic voice penetrated the fog in her brain.

  She weakly turned her head, and relief pounded through her when she saw that he was all right. Other than a streak of blood on his left temple, he didn’t seem to be injured from the accident. His window was gone, though, only a few shards of glass still connected to the frame. The windshield was a spiderweb of cracks, and the side of Bailey’s door was completely dented inward, but considering they’d just been violently T-boned, she was shocked the damage wasn’t worse.

  “I’m fine,” she said in a shaky voice. Adrenaline continued to surge through her blood, making her fingers quiver as she unbuckled her seat belt. “No broken bones, but I bumped my head on the—”

  Her door was wrenched open before she could finish.

  Bailey yelped as her butt landed unceremoniously on the glass-strewn pavement. Sharp fragments dug into her back, bringing a sting of pain, but not enough to distract her from the danger pulsing in the air. Her gun had fallen out of her lap during the collision, so she made a mad grab for the pistol strapped to her ankle.

  A heavy boot came down on her leg. “I don’t think so, sweetness. You won’t be needing that.”

  Cillian.

  Bailey stared into the barrel of his gun, swallowing hard. From the corner of her eye, she saw Sean stumble out of the car, a Glock in hand, but his hand froze when Cillian dropped to his knees and pressed his gun muzzle to Bailey’s temple.

  “I suggest you lay your weapon down,” he told Sean. “Otherwise I pull the fucking trigger.”

  When Sean hesitated, Bailey wanted to scream for him to ignore Cillian. To pull his own trigger and put an end to Kelly’s psychotic reign of terror. But she knew Sean would never do it. Not when her life was on the line.

  With a ragged breath, Sean lowered his weapon.

  “Kick it over to me,” Cillian said coolly.

  Sean obeyed, setting the Glock on the ground, then kicking it in Cillian’s direction.

  Cillian swiftly snatched the pistol from Bailey’s boot, then collected Sean’s discarded nine mil and tucked both weapons in his waistband.

  “Get up,” he ordered, curling his fingers around Bailey’s upper arm as he yanked her to her feet. “You,” he barked at Sean. “Hands on the hood. You so much as twitch and I blow her bloody brains out.”

  Sean’s shoulders sagged in defeat as he placed both palms flat on the dented hood of the car.

  With his gun still jammed against Bailey’s head, Cillian reached into his pocket and pulled out a set of flex-cuffs. “Cuff him,” he told her. “If you try anything, I shoot you both, understood?”

  She gave a terse nod.

  “Hands behind your back, Reilly,” Cillian snapped as he handed Bailey the plastic handcuffs.

  Sean complied, and Bailey drew a slow breath as she came up behind him.

  “Cuff him,” Cillian repeated. “Quit wasting my time, bitch.”

  She reached for Sean’s hands, giving them a brief squeeze before she fastened the flex-cuffs around his wrists. She kept one palm curled, shielding it from Cillian’s view, and as she secured the cuffs, she slid something into Sean’s right hand—the jagged glass fragment she’d swiped off the pavement before Cillian had hauled her to her feet.

  She felt Sean tense, but only for a second. Then he went still again.

  “Get over here,” Cillian snapped at her.

  Bailey edged away from Sean and approached Cillian warily. He kept the gun trained on her, but his mocking blue eyes shifted to Sean.

  “I want you on your knees for this,” he announced. “Get nice and comfy on the ground, Reilly. You’re gonna want a good seat for the show.”

  Sean’s green eyes flashed as he turned around, but he remained standing.

  Cillian’s lips curled in a sneer. “On. Your. Knees.”

  After a long beat, Sean silently slid to the ground. His arms were bound behind his back, but although Bailey couldn’t detect even a trace of movement, she knew he was slicing the cuffs with the glass she’d slipped him.

  “There you go,” Cillian mocked. “Now we can get started.”

  Bailey flinched when he grabbed her arm. He drew her toward him, pulling her back flush to his chest. He ground his unmistakable erection against her ass, but she didn’t have to twist her head to know he was still looking at Sean.

  “I should’ve known you’d fuck me,” Cillian muttered scornfully. “All you had to do was follow my lead, Reilly. Do Flannery’s bidding and let us take over the Dagger. But no, you couldn’t do that, could you, motherfucker? You had to go behind my goddamn back and scheme with Rabbit. You had to fuck everything up for me, didn’t you?”

  Sean was silent. Unblinking.

  “I needed Flannery,” Cillian said angrily. “Don’t you get that? Rabbit’s loyal little soldiers won’t follow me now. Not without Rabbit vouching for me or Flannery backing me!”

  Bailey’s jaw tightened when he thrust his groin into her backside and rotated his hips. She met Sean’s eyes, but his expression revealed nothing. Had he gotten free?

  Couldn’t he give her some kind of signal, damn it?

  “I’ll figure something out, though.” Cillian spoke absently, almost as if to himself. “I’ll find a way to get what I want without Flannery. But that’s a matter for another day. Right now, it’s time to teach you a lesson, Reilly.” He jabbed his gun in the air. “I’m going to show you what happens when you fuck me.”

  Bailey gasped when Cillian’s arm came around and his hand cupped her left breast. He squeezed it so hard her eyes watered.

  “I’m going to fuck her,” Cillian spat out. “Right in front of your goddamn eyes.” His
hot breath fanned against her neck, spittle splashing her skin.

  Bailey stared at Sean, pleading with him to give her a sign that he was ready to make a move. With Cillian ranting behind her and his gun no longer pressed to her temple, it was the perfect time to spring to action.

  “I’m going to fuck her cunt and her mouth and her tight little ass,” Cillian was gloating.

  Damn it, why was Sean taking so long?

  “And you’re going to enjoy every bloody second of it, Reilly. You’ll probably come in your pants, just like I’ll be coming when I’m inside your wom—”

  Bailey had had enough.

  She ducked out of Kelly’s grip before he realized what was happening, her right leg slicing upward to knock the gun from his hand. He growled in outrage, his fist crashing forward—only to collide with the air.

  Because Bailey was already crouched two feet away, gripping Kelly’s fallen weapon in both hands.

  “You little bit—”

  She pulled the trigger and shot him right between the eyes, then twice in the chest for good measure.

  He was dead before his body even hit the ground.

  A second later, Bailey bounced onto the soles of her feet, spinning around to face Sean, who wore an amused look.

  “Nice shot,” he told her. “The first one anyway. The other two were overkill, don’t you think?”

  She shrugged sheepishly. “He really pissed me off.”

  Sean’s husky laughter was music to her ears.

  She knelt beside him, fumbling for his bound hands. “And I’m pissed off at you,” she grumbled. “What are you, an amateur? I gave you a way out of those cuffs. You really couldn’t—” She stopped short when her fingers collided with the loose scraps of plastic. Then her jaw fell open. “Seriously? Your hands were free this whole time?”

  He grinned. “Of course.”

  “Then why the hell didn’t you help me out?”

  The irritated demand brought genuine confusion to his eyes. “Because you had the situation under control.”

  Bailey blinked. Then blinked again. “Wait—what?”

  Furrowing his brow, Sean got to his feet and pulled her up with him. “You had it covered. There was no reason for me to step in.”