Page 6 of Cowboy (Fury Vipers MC: Dublin Chapter #4)

Twenty minutes later, we’re parked outside Caoimhe's house, engine idling. My eyes scan the quiet street, every shadow suddenly a potential threat. The front door opens, and Caoimhe slips out, a backpack slung over her shoulder. Her eyes are red-rimmed, her face pale in the streetlight.

As she slides into the back seat, her eyes widen at the sight of Travis. "What's going on?" she asks, her voice trembling slightly.

"We'll explain on the way," I tell her, as Travis pulls away from the curb. "For now, just know that you're in danger. We're going somewhere safe."

As we drive through the dark streets of Dublin, heading north, I catch Caoimhe's eye. The fear and confusion in her gaze is palpable, and I feel a pang of guilt. She didn't ask for any of this.

"I'm sorry," I say softly. "I know this is all happening so fast, but I promise we're going to keep you safe. For Dylan."

She nods, a single tear rolling down her cheek. "Just... tell me what happened to my brother. Please."

I exchange a glance with Travis, who gives a small nod. I begin to tell Caoimhe the truth about what Dylan and I stumbled into, a world that has now claimed Dylan's life and threatened to claim hers too.

As we head further out of Dublin, I can't shake the feeling that I’m missing something, that there’s a huge fucking piece missing. The sooner I find out what it is, the better. I need to keep Caoimhe safe. I failed with Dylan. I won’t fail with her.

* * *

I glance back at Caoimhe's sleeping form as we pull up to the safe house. The weight of responsibility settles heavily on my shoulders. I failed to protect Dylan, but I won't make the same mistake with his sister.

"We're here," Travis says quietly, putting the car in park. "Let's get inside quickly. We don't know who might be watching."

I nod and step out of the car, before opening the back door. "Caoimhe," I say softly, gently shaking her shoulder. "Wake up. We're here."

Her eyes flutter open, confusion clouding her features for a moment before recognition sets in. "Where are we?" she asks, her voice thick with sleep.

"Somewhere safe," I assure her, helping her out of the car. "Come on, let's get inside."

The safe house is a small cottage in Portstewart, Derry. It has a slightly overgrown garden, giving it an air of abandonment. Perfect for laying low.

Travis leads us inside, quickly securing the door behind us. The interior is sparse but clean, with basic furnishings and heavy curtains over the windows.

"There are two bedrooms upstairs," Travis says, gesturing toward a narrow staircase. "Caoimhe, you can take one. Ciarán and I will take shifts keeping watch."

Caoimhe nods, her eyes darting around the unfamiliar space. "What happens now?" she asks, her voice small and uncertain.

I exchange a glance with Travis before answering. "Now, we figure out our next move. We need to ensure your safety."

"And then what?" Caoimhe presses. "How long do I have to hide?"

The question hangs in the air, heavy with implications. How long indeed? Days? Weeks? Forever?

"As long as it takes to keep you safe," I finally say, meeting her eyes. "I promised Dylan I would protect you, and that's exactly what I'm going to do."

Caoimhe holds my gaze for a long moment before nodding. "Okay," she says softly. "I trust you, Ciarán."

As she heads upstairs to get some rest, I turn to Travis. "We need to talk," I say, my voice low. "There's something you're not telling me about all this."

Travis sighs, running a hand through his hair. "You're right," he admits. "There's more to this than I initially let on. But it's complicated, and dangerous. The less you know, the safer you are."

I feel a surge of frustration. "Dylan's dead, Travis. Mike's dead. We're on the run. I think I deserve to know what the hell is going on."

He's quiet for a long moment, his eyes distant. Finally, he nods. "Alright. But not here. Let's step outside."

We step out onto the small porch. Travis leans against the railing, his eyes scanning the darkness.

“We have the names of everyone who has purchased women and children," he begins, his voice low. "It doesn’t have the members who run it, just those who have purchased the trafficked people. They’re the highest levels of government and law enforcement."

I feel my stomach drop. "How high are we talking?"

Travis turns to me, his expression grim. "Cabinet ministers. High-ranking Gardaí. Even judges. All involved in trafficking women and children."

"Jesus Christ," I mutter, trying to process this information. "And now they're after us because we know about it?"

He nods. "They'll stop at nothing to keep this quiet. Dylan... he must have stumbled onto something, gone back to investigate on his own. That's why they targeted him."

A wave of guilt washes over me. If only I'd known. If only I'd stopped him...

"What about Caoimhe?" I ask, pushing aside my regret. "Why are they after her?"

"Insurance," Travis says grimly. "They probably think Dylan might have told her something. And even if he didn't, she's leverage. A way to draw us out."

I clench my fists, anger rising in my chest. "So what's our next move? We can't just hide her forever."

Travis is quiet for a moment. “If that’s what it takes, yes. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep her safe. I fucked up by not protecting Dylan. I will do whatever it takes to protect Caoimhe.”

"And how, exactly, do we do that?" I ask, knowing that I feel the exact same way.

"You're sixteen, Ciarán," Travis says, his voice softening slightly. "You're not responsible for what happened to Dylan."

I shake my head, frustration and guilt churning inside me. "I was his best friend. I should have known something was wrong. I should have stopped him from going back to that estate."

Travis puts a hand on my shoulder. "Listen to me. You couldn't have known. Dylan made his own choices. What matters now is keeping Caoimhe safe and figuring out how to use the information we have."

I take a deep breath, trying to calm myself. "So what's the plan? We can't just sit here and wait for them to find us."

Travis nods, his expression turning serious again. "You're right. We need to be proactive. I have some contacts, people I trust. We'll reach out and see if we can get any intel on who's behind this, who's calling the shots."

"And then what?" I ask.

"Then we fight back," Travis says, his voice hard. "We use the information we have and expose these bastards for what they are."

I nod slowly, glad we’re not sitting around. "We'll need proof, concrete evidence that can't be disputed or covered up."

"Exactly," Travis agrees. "And we'll need to be careful. One wrong move and we're all dead."

As we stand there in the darkness, I can't help but think of Caoimhe, sleeping inside. She's lost everything; her parents, her brother, her home. And now she's caught up in this dangerous game.

"We need to tell her," I say suddenly. "Caoimhe… She deserves to know the truth, all of it."

Travis hesitates. "It's risky. The more she knows, the more danger she's in."

"She's already in danger," I argue. "And keeping her in the dark isn't going to protect her. She needs to understand what we're up against."

After a long moment, Travis nods. "You're right. We'll tell her in the morning. For now, get some rest. I'll take first watch."

I head back inside, my mind racing with everything Travis has told me. As I pass by the staircase, I notice a faint blue glow coming from Caoimhe's room. She's still awake.

I hesitate for a moment, then quietly make my way upstairs. Her door is slightly ajar, and I can see her sitting cross-legged on the bed, her face illuminated by the screen of a laptop I don't recognize.

"Caoimhe?" I call softly, pushing the door open wider.

She startles, quickly moving to close the laptop before recognizing me. "Jesus, Ciarán, you scared me."

"Sorry," I say, stepping into the room. "I thought you were asleep." I nod toward the laptop. "Where'd you get that?"

She hesitates, her fingers tapping nervously on the closed lid. "It's Dylan's," she finally admits. "His backup. He kept it hidden in a compartment he built into his bed frame."

My eyebrows shoot up. "The Gardaí didn't find it?"

She shakes her head. "They didn't know to look." A ghost of a smile crosses her face. "Dylan was always paranoid about losing his data. He said if anything ever happened to him, I should get his backup. I didn't understand what he meant until..." Her voice trails off.

"Did you find anything?" I ask, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

Caoimhe opens the laptop again and her fingers fly across the keyboard as she navigates through files. "At first, no. It's all encrypted, and Dylan was good with security." She glances up at me. "But I'm better."

I blink in surprise. "You can break his encryption?"

"I’ve been hacking for a while," she says, as if it should be obvious. "Dylan and I used to compete to see who could build better security systems. I usually won."

For the first time since this nightmare began, I feel a flicker of hope. "So what did you find?"

Her expression grows serious. "Communications.

Dylan was in contact with Fiona Brennan, a journalist from the Irish Times.

She specializes in exposing corruption." Caoimhe turns the screen toward me.

"Look at these messages. Dylan was planning to meet with her, to share information about what you guys found. "

I scan the messages, my heart pounding. "Did they ever meet?"

"No," Caoimhe says, pulling up another file. "The meeting was scheduled for the day after he..." She swallows hard. "After he died."

"Christ," I mutter, running a hand through my hair. "Travis and I were just talking about needing proof, something concrete that can't be disputed."

"That's not all," Caoimhe says, her voice taking on a determined edge I've never heard before.

"Dylan had been documenting everything. Names, dates, locations.

He created backups of the package you retrieved.

" She pulls up a folder filled with files.

"He even managed to trace some of the funds. He was building a case, Ciarán."

I stare at her, stunned. "This is..." I struggle to find the words. "This could change everything."

Caoimhe meets my gaze, her eyes hard with resolve. "I've already made contact with Fiona. I used a secure connection and bounced it through multiple proxies."

"You what?" I exclaim, then lower my voice. "Caoimhe, that's dangerous. These people?—"

"Killed my brother," she finishes, her voice steady despite the pain in her eyes.

"I know. And I'm not going to hide while they get away with it.

" She closes the laptop and looks at me with fierce determination.

"I'm not just some helpless girl you need to protect, Ciarán. I can fight too. For Dylan."

I sit back, really seeing her for the first time. Not as Dylan's little sister who needs saving, but as a formidable ally with skills and resources we desperately need.

"Travis won't like this," I warn her.

"I don't need Travis to like it," she says firmly. "Fiona has connections, people who can help us get this information out safely. We can expose these bastards and make them pay for what they did to Dylan."

I'm quiet for a long moment, weighing our options. Finally, I nod. "Okay. But we do this carefully. Together."

A small, dangerous smile spreads across Caoimhe's face. "I was hoping you'd say that."

As I head back downstairs, I realize that everything has shifted. Caoimhe isn't just someone to protect anymore, she's become a key player in this dangerous game. And for the first time since Dylan's death, I feel like we might actually have a chance of winning.