Page 10 of Cowboy (Fury Vipers MC: Dublin Chapter #4)

COWBOY

“E verything okay?” Pyro asks, his gaze intense as he watches me.

I nod. “Caoimhe turned up,” I tell him. He’s the only one of my brothers who knows everything.

He’s my president, someone I respect. I gave him the full debrief when I joined the Vipers.

He knows I work for Travis James and The Agency.

He also knows I’ve been training someone for The Agency, though he has no idea who, and I won’t give up Lisa’s name.

No one knows her true identity except for Travis, me, and Travis’ daughter, Melissa. That’s the way it will continue.

“Is she safe?” Py asks, his brows raised. “How is she?”

I sigh, running a hand over my face. "She's okay, I think. A bit thin, but she seems to be doing alright considering everything she's been through. I left her at one of Travis' safe houses for the night. I'm heading back there once I’m done here to talk to her about what she's discovered."

Pyro nods thoughtfully. "Good. Make sure she stays safe. Has she told you anything she’s uncovered?"

"I won't let anything happen to her, and yeah, she told me a bit, but it’s fucking unbelievable." I quickly give him a rundown on what Caoimhe said. I’m still trying to wrap my head around it all. Dylan’s alive? What the fuck?

Pyro's eyes widen as I finish explaining. "Jesus Christ," he mutters. "Dylan’s alive and working with the traffickers? That's a hell of a twist."

I nod grimly. "Yeah, it's hard to believe. But Caoimhe says she has proof."

"And you trust her?" Pyro asks, his gaze searching.

I don't hesitate. "With my life. Caoimhe wouldn't lie about something like this."

Pyro leans back, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "Alright. So what's your next move?"

"I need to get back to her and go through the evidence she's gathered. Then we'll need to bring Travis in and figure out our next steps."

"The club's got your back, brother," Pyro says firmly. "Whatever you need."

I feel a surge of gratitude. The Vipers have become my family, and knowing they have my back means everything. "Thanks, Py. I appreciate that."

As I turn to leave, Pyro calls out, "Cowboy." I pause, looking back at him. "Be careful. If what Caoimhe's saying is true, you're dealing with some seriously dangerous people."

I nod, the weight of the situation settling heavily on my shoulders. "I know. I'll watch my back."

With that, I head out into the night, my mind racing. I can't shake the feeling that everything's about to change. Again.

As I approach the safe house, a sense of unease washes over me. Something feels off. I quicken my pace, my hand instinctively moving to the gun at my waist.

I reach the door and find it slightly ajar. My heart rate spikes. "Caoimhe?" I call out, pushing the door open slowly.

The apartment is in disarray. Furniture overturned, papers scattered everywhere. And Caoimhe is nowhere to be seen.

"Fuck," I mutter, my eyes scanning the room for any clues.

There’s nothing, not a fucking clue as to who has her or what happened.

I pull out my cell and dial Travis. "Travis, we have a problem. Caoimhe's gone."

There's a sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line. "What do you mean, gone?"

I quickly explain meeting with her and bringing her to the apartment. I tell him about what she told me and the state of the apartment, the signs of struggle. "Someone took her, Travis. And I have a feeling it's connected to whatever information she uncovered about Dylan."

"Shit," Travis mutters. "Alright, I'm on my way. I’m in Longford on a job with Stephen. I won’t be long. Don't touch anything, we need to preserve any evidence."

I pace the small apartment as I wait for Travis, my mind racing. Who could have taken Caoimhe? And why now, just when she'd finally reached out to me?

Travis arrives almost two hours later, his face grim as he surveys the scene. "We need to move fast," he says, pulling out his phone. "I'm calling in some favors; see if we can get any leads on who might have taken her."

As Travis makes his calls, I pace the floor, feeling helpless. We have no idea where she is or who’s got her. I promised her she’d be safe here. Fuck.

“The security feeds around the apartment are down,” Travis hisses. “I have Melissa working her magic to track whoever took Caoimhe, but fuck, we’ve got no leads to go on.”

Panic and fear rise through me. “Someone has to fucking know who took her!” I snarl. “Someone has to know.”

Travis lays a hand on my shoulder. “We’ll find her,” he promises me.

But that feeling in my gut is back, the one that tells me that something bad has happened to her. I can feel it.

* * *

It’s been almost twenty-four hours since Caoimhe disappeared again. This time, it wasn’t on her own accord. Someone’s taken her and we have no fucking idea who. Every lead we’ve had, we’ve tracked down and nothing. Not a fucking thing. No one knows where she is.

I run my hands through my hair, frustration and fear coursing through me. "There has to be something we're missing," I say, pacing the room. "Some clue, some lead we haven't followed up on yet."

Travis looks up from his laptop, his eyes tired. "We're doing everything we can, Ciarán. I've got every contact I have working on this. But whoever took Caoimhe, they're professionals. They've covered their tracks well."

I slam my fist against the wall, the pain barely registering through my worry. "Fuck!" I yell. "We can't just sit here doing nothing while she's out there, God knows where, with God knows who!"

"I know, I know," Travis says, his voice softer now. "But we can't rush into this blindly. We need to be smart about this, or we could end up putting Caoimhe in even more danger."

Just then, Travis' phone buzzes. He snatches it up, his eyes widening as he reads the message. "It's from an unknown number," he says, his voice tense. "They say they have information about Caoimhe."

My heart races as I move to read over his shoulder. The message is brief.

UNKNOWN: If you want to see the girl alive, come to the abandoned warehouse on Dock Road. Come alone. You have one hour.

Travis and I exchange a look. It could be a trap, but it's the only lead we've had in hours.

"I'm going," I say firmly.

Travis shakes his head. "It's too dangerous. They said to come alone. I should go."

"No," I argue. "Caoimhe trusts me. If there's any chance of getting her out safely, it has to be me."

After a moment of hesitation, Travis nods. "Alright. But you're not going in completely alone. I'll have a team on standby nearby, ready to move in if things go south."

I nod, already moving to gear up. As I check my weapon and slip on my kevlar vest, I can't help but think of Caoimhe. The fear she must be feeling, the danger she's in. I silently vow to bring her home safely, no matter what it takes.

"Be careful," Travis says as I head for the door. "And Ciarán? Whatever happens in there... don't lose your head. Caoimhe needs you to think clearly."

I nod grimly then step out of the apartment and into the cool night, my heart pounding with a mixture of fear and determination. Hold on, Caoimhe , I think. I'm coming for you .

As I approach the abandoned warehouse, my senses are on high alert. The area is eerily quiet, the only sound the distant lapping of waves against the docks. I check my watch, I'm ten minutes early.

I scan the surroundings, looking for any sign of a trap or ambush. Nothing seems out of place, but that doesn't mean it's safe. I touch the comm device in my ear, knowing Travis and his team are listening in.

"I'm going in," I murmur, barely moving my lips.

"Copy that," Travis' voice crackles in my ear. "We've got eyes on the building. Be careful in there."

I take a deep breath and push open the rusty door. The interior of the warehouse is dark, with only slivers of moonlight filtering through broken windows. The air is thick with the smell of mold and decay.

"Hello?" I call out, my voice echoing in the empty space. "I'm here. Where's Caoimhe?"

For a moment, there's only silence. Then, a voice speaks from the shadows.

"Ciarán O'Reilly. Or should I say, Cowboy? You're right on time."

I spin toward the voice, my hand instinctively moving to my weapon. "Who are you? Where's Caoimhe?"

A figure steps into a dim light. It's a man, tall and lean, with close-cropped gray hair. His face is lined and weathered, but his eyes are sharp and alert.

"Your friend is safe. For now," he says, his voice calm and measured. "Whether she stays that way depends on you."

I clench my fists, fighting the urge to lunge at him. "What do you want?"

The man smiles, but it doesn't reach his eyes. "Information. I understand Caoimhe brought you some very interesting evidence. I want it."

My mind races. He must be talking about the USB drive Caoimhe gave me. "I don't have it with me," I say carefully.

"Of course you don't," the man replies. "But you know where it is. And you're going to get it for me."

I shake my head. "Not until I see Caoimhe. How do I know she's even alive?"

The man sighs, as if disappointed by my lack of trust. He pulls out a phone, taps a few buttons, then turns it toward me. On the screen is a live video feed of Caoimhe. She's tied to a chair, looking bruised and scared, but alive.

My heart clenches at the sight of her. "Let me talk to her," I demand.

The man considers for a moment, then nods. He taps the screen, and suddenly Caoimhe's voice fills the warehouse.

"Ciarán? Ciarán, is that you?"

"I'm here, Caoimhe," I say, trying to keep my composure, but all I want to do is tear the man in front of me apart. “Where are you?”

“I don’t know,” she cries. “Don’t give them the information. They’re not going to hand me back?—”

The phone goes dead and I grit my teeth. She’s right, the moment we give him the USB drive, we’ll never see Caoimhe again. I need to speak to Travis and Pyro; figure out what the fuck we should do. I don’t care what the fuck we have to do, I just want Caoimhe back.

The man puts the phone away, his eyes cold. "Now, Mr. O'Reilly, let's discuss terms. You have twenty-four hours to bring me the USB drive. If you fail to do so, or if you try anything foolish, the girl dies. It's as simple as that."

My mind races, trying to find a way out of this situation. "And if I bring you the drive? You'll let her go?"

He smiles, but it doesn't reach his eyes. "Of course. You have my word."

I don't believe him for a second, but I nod anyway. "Fine. Where do I bring it?"

"I'll contact you with the details," he says, already backing away into the shadows. "Remember, twenty-four hours. And come alone, or Caoimhe pays the price."

Before I can say anything else, he disappears into the darkness. I stand there for a moment, my heart pounding, before I hear Travis' voice in my ear.

"Ciarán, report. What happened there?"

I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself. "We've got a problem, Travis. A big one. I’ll meet you back at the apartment. I’ll be calling in Pyro too.”

“Alright, son. I’ll see you back here in an hour.”

As I walk back to my bike, my mind is racing. Twenty-four hours to get the USB drive and somehow rescue Caoimhe without getting her killed in the process. It seems impossible, but I have to find a way.

I speed through the night-time streets of Dublin, the cool air doing little to calm my nerves. By the time I reach the apartment, Travis is already there, pacing the floor.

"What happened?" he demands as soon as I walk in.

I quickly fill him in on the encounter at the warehouse, the video of Caoimhe, and the ultimatum we've been given. Travis listens intently, his brow furrowed in concentration.

"This is bad," he mutters when I finish. "Really bad. We can't give them that USB drive, the information on it could bring down half the government. But we can't let them kill Caoimhe either."

"I know," I say, running a hand through my hair in frustration. "That's why I called Pyro. We need all the help we can get on this one."

As if on cue, there's a knock at the door. Travis checks the peephole before letting Pyro in. My president looks grim as he takes in our expressions.

"Alright, lads," he says, settling into a chair. "Fill me in. What's the situation?"

We spend the next half hour bringing Pyro up to speed on everything that's happened. When we finish, he lets out a low whistle.

"Jesus Christ," he mutters. "You boys don't do anything by halves, do you?"

Despite the gravity of the situation, I can't help but crack a small smile. "You know us, Py. Go big or go home."

Pyro nods, his expression turning serious again. "Alright, so what's the plan? We've got less than twenty-four hours to figure this out."

Travis leans forward, his eyes intense. "We need to approach this from multiple angles. First, we need to try and locate where they're holding Caoimhe. Ciarán, did you notice anything in that video call that might give us a clue?"

I shake my head, frustrated. "Nothing obvious. The room looked pretty nondescript. Could have been anywhere."

"Alright." Travis nods. "I’ll have Melissa try to trace the call."

"We're not actually giving them the drive, are we?" I ask, my voice hard.

Travis shakes his head. "No, but we need to make them think we are. We'll create a fake, something that looks legit enough to buy us some time."

Pyro nods approvingly. "Good thinking. And while they're distracted with that, we can have a team move in to extract Caoimhe."

"Exactly," Travis agrees.

As good as it all sounds, I can’t help but think it’ll all be for nothing. Caoimhe’s right: men like them won’t give in, and giving us Caoimhe back isn’t going to help them. She knows too much.

All I hope is that she remains alive and holds on until we can track her location down.