Irish Throwdown (What Happens In Vegas Book 4)

by Matt Lincoln

  Junior and I were standing on one side of the cave, facing down O’Sullivan and the men standing on the other.

  “Do you really think that you have a chance?” O’Sullivan drawled as he tapped his gun casually against his thigh. “It’s two against four.”

  “We’ve faced worse odds,” I bluffed.

  We didn’t have any cover, and Junior didn’t even have a gun. If we got into a shootout now, we were almost certainly going to die. Our only real chance at survival would be to stall until Seamus or the other officers arrived to help.

  “Look at the mess you’ve made.” O’Sullivan grimaced down at the two bodies on the ground. “Just who do you think is going to clean this up?”

  “That’s what you call your own fallen men?” I growled. “A mess?”

  My brain was moving at a mile a minute as I tried to figure out a way out of this. I turned to look at the three men standing beside him.

  “Is that the kind of man you want to work for?” I yelled expectantly. “Someone who’ll just treat your deaths like an inconvenience?”

  “Shut up,” O’Sullivan barked, and for the first time, his nonchalant mask slipped.

  “Isn’t that why you turned your back on Gallagher?” I continued with ferocity. “He was treating you all as disposable, but isn’t O’Sullivan exactly the same? He put your lives at risk by sending you into the house to lead us here!”

  “I said shut up!” O’Sullivan screamed before turning to address his men. “Shoot them. Now!”

  Every muscle in my body tensed at those words, but it seemed like my plan had worked because the men hesitated.

  I took that as my opportunity and began to fire. I managed to hit two of the men before they’d regained their wits.

  “Dammit!” O’Sullivan yelled as he fired back.

  I threw myself to the side and fired again, though my shot missed and embedded itself into the cave wall behind him. The last of the goons left standing started firing as well, but he fell a moment later as Junior’s bullet struck him.

  I turned back to O’Sullivan, but to my surprise, he wasn’t pointing his gun at me.

  A horrified chill ran through my body as he pulled the trigger and shot at Junior, who was still looking at the man who had just fallen. He let out a cry of pain before falling backward onto the floor of the cave.

  I was back on my feet in an instant, and before I was even consciously aware of my actions, I was on top of O’Sullivan, knocking him to the ground and punching his face with so much force that I was confident it would shatter beneath my fist.

  “I’ll kill you!” I roared as I continued my assault. He had dropped his gun when I tackled him and was now flailing his arms against me in an attempt to get free.

  “Careful, agent,” he spat, blood dribbling from his mouth. “Are you sure you want to go through another hearing?”

  “I don’t give a damn,” I sneered, though a small part of me was alarmed at the extent of information this man appeared to have on me and on MBLIS.

  Still, his taunt was enough to ground me, and I realized that I needed to check on Junior.

  “You better hope he’s alive,” I said through gritted teeth as I turned him roughly over to cuff his hands behind his back.

  Once that was done, I quickly located his gun and slipped it into my own waistband. I didn’t need him trying anything stupid while I was checking on my partner.

  I rushed over to where Junior had fallen, my heart beating painfully fast as I bent down to examine him. For a brief moment, I was afraid to even check, scared of what I might find. But then I realized there was no blood. The bullet had struck his bulletproof vest, and though he was sure to have a massive bruise for a while, I knew that he’d be fine. The fact that he was unconscious was more troubling and meant that he’d probably hit his head on the hard stone floor after he fell.

  “Damn. What a mess,” a calm, almost bored voice called from the entrance. I snapped my head around and saw a man who looked about Junior’s age slowly saunter into view. I quickly stood and lifted my gun again. I had no idea who this man was or if he was friend or foe.

  “What are you doing here, Brian?” O’Sullivan asked coldly.

  I turned around to look at O’Sullivan’s face and saw that it had soured. Gone was the easygoing sneer he’d been mocking us with, replaced by a look of anger and confusion.

  “Plans have changed,” the man replied as he slowly slipped his hand into the pocket of his coat. “Someone made me a better offer than the one you did, and I’m afraid it was just too good to pass up. You understand, right?”

  My heart was beating so hard that it was almost painful. I wasn’t sure what was happening, but curiosity kept me glued to the spot.

  “So you’re betraying me?” O’Sullivan growled.

  The other man, Brian, just shrugged nonchalantly.

  “It’s just business,” he replied as he stepped toward O’Sullivan.

  I turned to Brian apprehensively. I had no idea who he was, but I could tell just by how he spoke and carried himself that he was dangerous.

  “Who the hell are you?” I snapped.

  He eyed me warily before responding.

  “An ally,” he replied simply. “Gallagher sends his regards.”

  “Of course,” O’Sullivan sneered. “I’d expect nothing less from some disloyal mercenary.”

  “Loyalty was never part of the deal,” Brian retorted. “You’re a moron if you thought I wouldn’t turn on you, eventually.”

  He stepped forward again as if to get to O’Sullivan, and I moved into his path.

  “I don’t know what you’re planning.” I stared at him. “But he’s not going anywhere. He’s under arrest.”

  “What?” Brian deadpanned as he stared at me in disbelief. “I wasn’t asking your permission. Get out of my way.”

  “No,” I replied before glancing over to Junior. He was still out cold, which was a shame, considering I could really use some help against this apparent assassin-for-hire.

  “I told you I’m your ally,” Brian scoffed. “I was sent here to keep you from getting killed by that one.”

  “And a lot of help you were,” I bit back sarcastically as I gestured toward the bodies scattered around the floor of the cave. “Considering the fight was already over when you strolled in.”

  Brian gritted his teeth, and I could see his nostrils flare as he visibly fought to control his anger.

  “You can’t just--” Brian barked, but he stopped short at the sound of footsteps and yelling.

  “Do a search of the entire beach!” Seamus’s familiar voice yelled over the sound of crashing waves, and I felt a flood of relief wash over me. “There’s a lot of little nooks and crannies among the rocks on these types of beaches that can be used as hiding spots!”

  “Seamus!” I called as loudly as I could, and I rejoiced internally as the sound of footsteps got louder. A moment later, Seamus and several other officers stormed into the small cove.

  “Saints preserve us,” Seamus gasped as he stopped in his tracks at the entrance to the cove. I watched as his eyes roved over the bodies on the ground and up to Brian standing just in front of me. “What’s going on here?”

  “You know,” I grumbled, “just a shoot out. Nothing out of the ordinary. That’s O’Sullivan, by the way.”

  I nodded at the man still handcuffed on the ground. He was glaring daggers back at us.

  “And this one is Brian.” I frowned as I looked back at the mysterious man in front of me. “I’m not sure who he is, actually.”

  “Really, now?” Seamus asked skeptically as he eyed Brian suspiciously. “Well then, who are you, lad?”

  His gaze shifted between Seamus and me for a moment before he suddenly took off at an alarming speed, knocking one of the officers to the ground in the process.

  “Stop him!” Seamus yelled, and two of the officers took off after him.

  “What’s going on?” a weak voice groaned from behind me. I
spun around and found that Junior was starting to sit up.

  “Easy there, partner,” I cautioned him as I went to help him up. “I think you took a hit to the head there. It’s becoming a bad habit of yours.”

  “You don’t need to tell me.” He grimaced as he reached a hand up to touch his head.

  “Ambulance is on its way,” Seamus assured him. “We’ve got a few officers injured as well. We managed to apprehend everyone up at the house, though.”

  “Good.” I nodded. “I’m glad to hear that.”

  “Well, then,” Seamus said as he bent down to haul O’Sullivan off the ground. “Let’s just get this eejit back to the station. We can discuss things there.”

  “We’ll meet you there after we get Junior checked out at the hospital,” I replied.

  He nodded before turning to guide O’Sullivan out of the cave. Junior and I followed closely behind him, and as we stepped out of the darkness and into the warm sunlight outside, I felt a profound wave of relief that we’d managed to survive this harrowing ordeal.

  37

  Charlie

  Junior’s injury had turned out to be more than just some minor bruising, which wasn’t surprising. The force from the bullet’s impact had actually shattered a few of his ribs and resulted in a contusion on one of his lungs. Aside from that, he had a grapefruit-sized bruise on his torso that the doctor said would probably be painful for a few weeks. Then there was the concussion he’d given himself when he’d fallen and hit his head on the floor of the cave.

  “Why does this always happen to me?” he grumbled. “This never happened when I was with the FBI. I join MBLIS, and suddenly part of me is breaking every other month.”

  “Just think how impressed Fiona will be,” I encouraged him in an attempt to make him feel better.

  “She’ll probably just freak out,” he sighed as he repositioned the ice pack he was holding to his injured ribs.

  We were sitting in the lobby of the Larne police station. We’d called Seamus to let him know we were coming back, but apparently, he was busy dealing with the bureaucratic paperwork that came in the aftermath of the raid. Five suspects had died just in the cove, and a few more in the house. In the end, several suspects and cops alike had ended up injured or killed, which meant that there was a lot to deal with in the aftermath.

  Now that both Gallagher and O’Sullivan had been captured, I felt weariness creeping its way over me. All that was left to do was figure out exactly how everything connected to our original case in Las Vegas, and we’d be able to head home.

  “Agents, I’m here,” a familiar voice huffed, and I looked up to see Seamus trudging down the hallway toward us, looking a little worse for wear. O’Leary followed just a few steps behind him. “Sorry that took so long. It’s been a right nightmare dealing with trying to get things settled. I kept telling them that interrogating O’Sullivan should take priority, but everyone always thinks their problems are the most important.”

  “Oh, would you quit your belly-aching?” O’Leary sighed. “Anyway, gents, the suspect is ready in the interview room now if you are.”

  “I’m ready,” I replied as I stood up from my chair. I turned and waited for Junior to get to his feet a little more slowly, careful not to agitate his ribs.

  “Alright, let’s go then,” Seamus nodded. He and O’Leary led us down the main corridor and through a labyrinth of hallways before we finally arrived at a nondescript room. If they hadn’t stopped us from going any further, I wouldn’t have guessed that it was an interview room at all.

  “Considering the circumstances,” Seamus explained, “we felt it was probably best to choose a room that wouldn’t call attention. Just in case one of his men tried something the way they did with Gallagher back in Dublin.”

  “Smart,” I nodded as I remembered the way Finnian Gallagher had bragged about having friends within the Garda.

  O’Leary dug a key out of his pocket and quickly unlocked the door to the room. We filed inside one by one. As I’d thought, this wasn’t actually a typical interview room, but rather what looked like a standard storage room that had been emptied of everything but a table and some chairs. It was large enough that it could have been an office, but there weren’t any windows, which was probably what made it a better choice than an ordinary office space.

  “I thought you said he was in here?” I asked as I took a look around the empty room.

  “He was,” Seamus replied, his voice weak with disbelief.

  “What?” I turned around to look at him.

  His eyes were wide, and his mouth was agape with shock.

  “He was just here, handcuffed to the table!”

  “Where the hell is he?” O’Leary yelled.

  Just then, as if in answer to his question, a shot rang out from somewhere outside the room, followed quickly by two more.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” I growled as I took off out of the room and down the hallway toward where the sound had come from. Seamus was beside me in an instant, surprisingly fast despite his large stature.

  We rounded a corner and spotted a pair of Garda lying on the ground.

  “Oh, no,” Seamus gasped as he hurried toward them.

  One was unresponsive, but the other was conscious and called out to us as we approached.

  “It’s Dowd,” the woman coughed, blood trickling from the corner of her mouth. “He helped O’Sullivan get out. They’re heading for Gallagher.”

  “Damn,” O’Leary hissed. “I can’t believe he was one of the ones working with the mafia.”

  “Take Charlie down to the cells, quickly,” Seamus ordered. “I need to stay and help Sorcha and Dan.”

  I realized that he must have been speaking about the two fallen officers. I also realized that Junior wasn’t anywhere in sight.

  “Where’s Agent Chapman?” I asked O’Leary.

  “He told me to go on ahead,” he replied. “Didn’t think he could run with that broken rib of his.”

  “Will you quit your yammering and just go?!” Seamus yelled.

  I nodded to O’Leary, and the two of us took off again.

  “He’s this way,” he informed me. “We moved him into a secluded cell to keep anyone from finding him. Garda Dowd wasn’t one of the ones told of his location, but it wouldn’t surprise me if word made its way to him.”

  I followed him down several hallways and even up a flight of stairs before we finally made it to a deserted hall. I could tell without even asking O’Leary which cell was Gallagher’s because the door was wide open, and I could hear shouting from inside.

  “You always had to take all the glory, didn’t you?” O’Sullivan was yelling. “The drugs were a good plan! A brilliant plan! But as soon as things went south, all of a sudden, I was a fool for having come up with it!”

  “Damn,” O’Leary grunted. “They’re already here.”

  From outside the doorway, I could see Gallagher sitting calmly on a chair. O’Sullivan and a uniformed Garda were standing just in front of him, their backs to us.

  “Freeze!” O’Leary shouted as he lifted his gun and pointed it toward the men. I did the same and waited anxiously to see how O’Sullivan would react.

  “This isn’t your business!” he roared as he spun around to face us, his gun held aloft.

  “Don’t talk nonsense,” O’Leary scoffed. “You’re brandishing a gun in a Garda station, for goodness’ sake. And you, Dowd, I’ll get to you in a minute.”

  “You think I’m afraid of you?” the Garda officer sneered. “I have the family’s protection! You can’t do anything to me!”

  “The family?” I scoffed. “You mean the mafia? Are you an idiot? Do you really think you’re going to win this? Just look at the situation you’re in!”

  The young man began to shake either with fear or with rage at my words, and I realized an instant before he moved what he was about to do.

  “No!” I yelled as the man lifted his gun and aimed it at me.

  Befo
re he could pull the trigger, O’Leary pulled his, and the Garda crumpled to the floor.

  O’Sullivan roared and turned his gun on O’Leary.

  I lifted my own gun, but by the time I had fired, he had already shot the Sergeant, who fell to the ground with a thud. O’Sullivan fell just a second later, downed by my bullet.

  He dropped his gun as he fell, and it clattered and skittered across the ground before coming to a stop right in front of Gallagher.

  “Don’t even think about it,” I warned him. My eyes flitted over to O’Leary, who was struggling to get back onto his feet. He was, thankfully, still wearing the bulletproof vest he’d worn out on the mission. Nevertheless, he’d been shot at near-point-blank range, so he was sure to have similar injuries to Junior. His life wasn’t in danger, though.

  I looked back to Gallagher, who was staring at the gun on the ground. Several tense moments passed before he looked up at me, a sly smirk on his face.

  Just a moment later, I heard footsteps racing toward us, accompanied by a welcome and familiar voice.

  “O’Leary!” Seamus barked. “Agent Hills! What’s going on?”

  “We’re here!” I called back without taking my eyes off Gallagher. “We need medical attention. Dowd and O’Sullivan are down, and O’Leary’s been shot!”

  Seamus’s footsteps quickened, and a moment later, he was standing beside me, looking down at the scene in the room.

  “Up against the wall!” he yelled at Gallagher, who immediately did as he was told, the insufferable smirk still in place. Seamus rushed forward to retrieve the fallen gun before turning to check on his partner. “You alright?”

  “Never better,” O’Leary huffed as he carefully got to his feet. “What’s a bullet to the chest here and again?”

  “Oh, quit your whining,” Seamus replied, though there was less humor in his voice than usual.

  He moved forward to cuff Gallagher’s hands behind his back before leaning down to check on Dowd and O’Sullivan.

  “Aye.” He shook his head. “They’re gone.”

  “A bullet to the chest will do that,” Gallagher chuckled darkly. “When you’re not wearing a vest, that is.”