Page 47

FORTY-SEVEN

MOIRA

I ring Domhnall’s doorbell, foot tapping like I’m drumming out a rock solo on the porch.

The bad guys didn’t exactly leave me with my phone when they kidnapped me and Mads, so getting here took some good old-fashioned Moira-style improvisation.

Step one: Escape the hellhole. They’d stashed us in some abandoned warehouse by the river, and let me tell you, nothing screams “high-quality hostage experience” like peeling paint, rusty chains, and the lingering scent of dead rats. But I got out. Had to jog for what felt like miles before I found a street that didn’t double as a tetanus breeding ground.

Step two: Pop my thumb back into the socket. My hand was starting to go really numb. And yes, it hurts like just as much of a bitch going back in as it does popping it out .

Step three: Hustle up a ride. No phone, no cash, just my wits and a face that people tend to be generous to when I play my cards right. So I worked my magic, batting my lashes at any guy who looked both kind and gullible. Told a heart-wrenching sob story about getting robbed and needing to get back to my dear, worried brother. It took a few tries—people are skeptical these days—but eventually, some saint of a man bought it and called me an Uber. Bless his easily manipulated soul. Though, in this case, the grift was pretty damn close to the truth.

Now, here I am, standing on Domhnall’s doorstep, looking like I lost a fight with a few alley cats, waiting for my so-called loving brother to open the damn door.

Finally, the door swings open. But instead of the warm welcome I deserve, Domhn plants his arm against the frame, blocking the way like he’s a bouncer at a club. And, of course, he’s glaring. That’s his default setting when it comes to me lately.

“Where’s Mads?” he demands in a voice sharp enough to cut glass.

Not “Are you okay, Moira?” Not “Holy shit, you’re alive!” Nope. Straight to business.

I roll my eyes. “Lost your fiancée?”

His jaw twitches. “Mads sent me a message yesterday saying she had to go out of town for a few days. Then you go missing. Do you know where she is or not?”

“Yes. That’s why I’m here.” I shove against his arm and muscle my way inside. Screw waiting for an invitation. I’ve been kidnapped, hustled, and half-starved for the past however many hours. I am not in the mood for his attitude. Because all that isn’t even to mention what I still have to do. I’ve only been functioning by blocking that part out.

Domhnall barely moves, but he lets me pass, shutting the door with a heavy sigh. “Jesus, Moira.”

I flop onto his couch, stretching out like I own the place. “Nice to see you too, big brother. Got anything to eat? Because I’m starving. And also, maybe, just maybe, you could show a little concern for your only sister who just escaped a goddamn hostage situation?”

His glare softens—just a fraction. But I’ll take it.

“Start talking,” he says, heading for the kitchen. “And don’t leave anything out.”

Finally. Some hospitality. “Napkins, too!”

Domhnall drops a plate of leftover lasagna in front of me with all the gentleness of a prison guard serving slop, along with a couple paper towels. “Talk.”

I take a big, dramatic bite just to piss him off. The man has even less patience than me. “You sure you don’t want to ask me how I am first? Maybe offer me a hug, a ‘glad you’re alive, sis?’ No? Cool, cool.”

His glare sharpens. “Moira.”

I sigh, dragging my fork through the sauce. “Fine. Short version? Mads and I got snatched off the sidewalk, stashed in some abandoned warehouse by the river, and left to marinate in our own panic.”

His chair scrapes against the floor as he shoots up, fists slamming on the table. “WHERE IS SHE?”

I sigh again . “Someone with serious connections is pulling strings, and Mads thinks it’s too big for you to take on.”

His voice is a growl, veins popping at his temple. “You got out. Why the fuck didn’t you get Mads out with you?”

I grip my fork tighter, swallowing down the flash of guilt. “Because she wouldn’t let me, Domhnall. It wasn’t an option. If I’d tried, neither of us would’ve made it.” My eyes flash up at him. “And she thought they’d come and kill you. She wasn’t willing to risk it. The guys who had us were people she said she knew from—” I gesture with my fork, “ Before .”

His hands ball into fists. “That’s even more reason to get her the hell out of there! You should’ve?—”

“What? Magically turned into a Navy SEAL and busted her out between kidnappers with guns?” I snap. “I did what I had to do. The only way to fix this is by playing their game.”

His nostrils flare, his whole body coiled like he’s ready to punch a hole through the wall. “What game?”

I take a deep breath. “They want something from me. Something I have to give them. And when I do, they’ll let Mads go.”

He shakes his head, eyes burning. “That’s not a fucking plan.”

“It’s survival,” I say, voice flat. “And if I do it right, everyone—including Mads and you —comes out of this alive.”

His eyes narrow. “What do they want?”

I hesitate, my throat tightening. “I have to break up with Bane.”

Domhnall blinks, caught off guard for half a second before rage slams back into place. “This is about Bane? They’re threatening my fiancée because of your goddamn husband ? Who the fuck cares that much about a fucking priest? Is he in witness protection?”

I exhale, slow and controlled, like I can keep my hands from shaking if I just regulate my breathing. Like I can keep my voice steady and my head cool and my shit together. Spoiler alert: I can’t.

“His father is Brad Blackwolf. That’s why Mads got scared for you. I think he hired the guy who still has Mads.”

I swallow hard and drop the fork onto the plate with a clatter. I shift back in my chair, needing space, needing air. “He’s not exactly thrilled about me as a partner for his son. He tried to pay me off to leave Bane a little while ago, but I didn’t take it. And now, if I don’t walk away from Bane, bodies are gonna start dropping.”

Domhnall stares at me, breathing heavily, obviously still furious. His mind’s working, and I can see the exact moment the pieces click together behind those dark eyes.

“Shit,” he mutters. “Mads didn’t tell you to come here, did she? She didn’t want you to tell me at all.”

I shake my head, a sharp, jerky motion. “No. She thinks we should handle it ourselves. She thinks getting you involved will make things worse.”

“Well, she can fucking forget it. Because I’m fucking getting involved.” His growl is low and lethal, his entire body coiled tight like he’s about to launch himself into battle. “And if you think I’m sitting back while you try to handle this alone?—”

“You have to.” I cut him off before he can go full raging bull. “Because if this goes wrong, you’re the only one who’ll know what happened. You have to find Mads and tell Bane it’s his father if my leaving doesn’t call off the attack dogs. Do something to fix this clusterfuck. But let me try to fix it first. Please.”

“Why don’t you just tell Bane?”

I swallow hard again, looking down. Then I grab the paper towel to scrub at my face. I feel dirty after spending the night in that place, even if I was unconscious for most of it. “Bane left that world behind for a reason. His father’s obviously a monster. And I—” I blink hard to keep back stupid tears. “This is for the best, anyway. We both know I wouldn’t be any good for him in the long run.”

I drop the towel and reach out, daring to rest my fingers on his knee, a soft plea against all his hard edges.

“Please, Domhn,” I whisper. “I know I fucked up last year. I know I’ve disappointed you in every way a sister can. I brought the vilest piece of shit back into your and Mads’s lives, and even before that, I was too much—all the time—when all you deserved was a normal sister?—”

“Stop it, Moira.” He snaps the words like a whip. “I never needed normal. You’re my sister . I always knew you were capable of standing on your own two feet. I just needed you to see it, too.”

I blink at him, stunned silent. He’s always acted like I was a hurricane he just had to endure. To hear him say he actually believed in me? It steals the breath from my lungs.

“I’m going to fix this.” My voice is steadier this time. More sure.

“Well, you should have a chance to any second because I told Bane you were here when I saw you step out of the Uber.”

“What?!” I lurch to my feet so fast the chair legs screech against the floor. “Why didn’t you tell me that when I got here?!”

“I didn’t know what you’d have to say for yourself,” he says, completely unbothered by the fact that my entire plan is unraveling before my eyes. “And he’s been off his rocker since you left. If you were running from him for a good reason, I figured it was best for me to be here when you reunited.”

I drag a hand down my face. “If I’m going to break up with him, I can’t do it here . I need it to be somewhere they’ll see. They’ve probably got us under surveillance back at the church house. I’ve got to do it there. Let me borrow a car and some money.”

He rises to his full height, all bristling big-brother energy. “Only if you tell me where Mads is.”

“Fine,” I huff. “But they’ve probably moved her since I escaped.”

“Don’t care. Tell me.”

“Keys first.”

His eyes narrow. “They’re in the garage.”

“Fine, then money now, keys later.” I rub my thumb and forefingers together in the universal sign for “pay up.” He rolls his eyes but pulls out his wallet. Instead of handing me cash, he slaps a credit card into my palm. Even better. I shove it in my pocket.

“Give me your phone.”

“Tell me where she is, for shite’s sake!”

“Phone!”

He curses but hands it over, dragging a hand through his hair like he’s regretting all his life choices that led to keeping me in his life as a sister. See? No matter his sweet words, it’s better for everyone when I’m not around. I’ll break up with Bane and cut town. Everyone will get a break from the chaos-bringer that is me.

First, I text Bane, telling him that Moira’s left and she’s going home. Then I text Isaak an SOS, telling him I need him and whatever security goons he’s got to meet Domhn at the following cross streets in the warehouse district ASAP.

Only then do I hand the phone back to Domhn and tell him where Mads is.

We both take off for his extensive garage, feet pounding the floor in a synchronized rhythm of urgency and barely restrained panic.

“Even if they’ve moved Mads,” I say as we run, “there could still be bad guys there. I texted Isaak for backup.”

He grunts, then says, “Buy a burner as soon as you’re done breaking the priest’s heart. Keep me up to date.”

As soon as we hit the garage, he points to a box on the left wall. “Keys.” He’s already got the garage door opening and is peeling out in one of his sports cars before I’ve even reached the box.

I look at the three cars left. My hand hesitates for all of two seconds before reaching for the keys to the shiniest, fastest-looking one.

Naturally, it is the sexy red one.