Chapter 40

Chapter Forty

Irish pulled at his bindings. The rope holding his hands was definitely looser, but the ones around his ankles weren’t budging. Considering they were cable ties, it wasn’t surprising, and nothing but a knife would release them. He still tried.

Fear was fueling him now. An emotion he’d never allowed to have control over his actions, but from the second Cass said she would replace him, that was the only thing he’d felt.

Where the fuck was Isaac?

After the call with Cass had ended, he, Gomez and Jorge had departed the room.

Isaac hadn’t even tried to look at him, which Irish hadn’t expected. Maybe he’d hoped he would, but he hadn’t expected it .

What were they doing now?

What the fuck was Ox planning? Because there was no way his boss would let Cass come by herself.

The DEA would be involved, and they were the last people Irish wanted involved, considering how fucked their initial operation had been all those years ago.

His body ached and the agony in his chest was intense, but he pushed the discomfort aside. Fatigue was chasing him, and no matter how far he tried to get away, it was determined to get him, pull him under.

Irish needed to stay awake, but it was as though his body were fighting his mind. Fighting to survive, and to do that, he needed to rest.

Maybe he could close his eyes for a few minutes. Just a quick catnap. Then he’d be ready for his team—and Cass—to arrive. He needed to be alert and able to act.

His head slumped forward of its own accord. “Just five minutes,” he mumbled as his eyelids drifted down.

What felt like a second later, he was shaken awake. “It’s showtime, asshole.” Jorge was smiling wildly.

Disorientated from sleep made it take a moment for Irish to process what was being said.

Showtime .

Instantly the dregs of sleep disappeared, and various movements flashed around the room.

He blinked, attempting to open his eyes wider, which was impossible, given their swollen, painful state. With Irish’s sense of sight down to a small percentage, he needed to rely on his other senses. He focused on the sounds. There were more people in the room than there had been before.

Had more of Ramirez’s men arrived, or was it his team?

Had they been captured?

Impossible. The team is too well trained to be caught. DEA? That’s another matter.

Irish breathed deeply, and the stale smell of body odor, sweat, and something else lingered in the air.

The anomaly was a sweet scent.

Cherry blossom.

Cass.

Fuck, Cass is here.

The thoughts slammed into him, and he had to will his body not to respond. Not to give it away to anyone else in the room that he was aware that Cass was there.

She wasn’t in his limited line of vision.

So where was she? Where was the team?

Patience. I need patience .

“Where’s the show? Seems like nothing is happening,” Irish taunted the room. Poking the bear wasn’t wise, but he’d had enough.

Everything in him was clawing to get to Cass. To pull her to safety.

He blinked again a couple of times.

Was he able to see a bit better? Yes, he was, he could make out Cass standing next to Gomez, his hand clamped tightly around her upper arm.

Isaac was on his other side, and Jorge still stood beside him.

There were about five men behind Cass and Gomez.

Getting out of this would be difficult, and making sure Cass didn’t get hurt would be a priority, but Irish would take out every single fucker in the room, even if he took his last breath doing so.

Cass was going to live.

I want to live.

The thought crept into the recesses of his mind, and he latched onto it. Fuck, yeah, he wanted to live.

He wanted a future with Cass.

Before, he might’ve been willing to end it all, but now, with that one thought, he wanted to kill them all and survive.

“You seem very confident, when I have your woman beside me,” Gomez said, throwing a nod to Jorge.

Irish felt it then, the tip of a needle at the side of his neck.

Cass’s gasp filled the room, and she was fighting Gomez’s hold. “You said it was a trade. Me for him. Let him go!” she yelled.

The drug lord laughed and pulled a gun from behind his back, waving it around. “Now why would I do that? Did you really think it would be that easy? Silly girl.”

Jorge joined in the laughter, but Isaac wasn’t laughing.

The man’s gaze was fixed on Ramirez, his fingers flexing.

Irish recognized that movement. The DEA agent was itching to get his gun and put a bullet between the drug lord’s eyes.

He was done waiting. Whatever Ox had planned, he hoped he’d made a contingency for Irish to go rogue because that was what he was about to do.

With a shake of his hand, the rope he’d been slowly working at fell to the ground.

A second later, Irish had Jorge in a chokehold across his lap with the syringe in his hand. “I may not be able to use my legs, but I can use my hands. Say hello to hell.” He plunged the needle into Jorge’s neck and squeezed.

The man’s mouth dropped open in a silent scream, and his eyes rolled back to the whites. His body slumped to the ground.

Around them, silent pops sounded, and bodies fell where they’d stood.

“What the fuck, Javier?” Gomez yelled.

Isaac had a gun pointed at Ramirez.

While Gomez had shifted his gun to Cass.

Irish needed a weapon. Needed a gun to take out the fucker.

“Will this do?” Ox stepped up beside him, a Glock in his hand.

“Definitely, now get me the fuck out of these bindings.”

His boss squatted down. With quick movements, the cable ties were undone.

Irish stood, groaning as the blood rushed to his feet. He shook them, determined not to let anything stop him from getting to his woman. “Give it up, Ramirez,” he ground out and aimed his weapon at the man. “There’s two of us with guns on you. It’s not going to end well.”

“I don’t fucking care.” He hooked Cass around the waist, tugging her in front of him, as a human shield .

Coward.

“You really should listen to them, Gomez. You’re not going to get out of here alive,” Issac took a step toward the drug lord.

“You’re the fucking mole. I should’ve known. The way you convinced me to let that chef go. And you bullshitted me about that reporter. How could you betray me after everything I’ve done for you?!?” Ramirez yelled, spittle flying from his mouth.

The undercover agent didn’t move. Didn’t even flinch.

Irish admired the man, as much as he hated him for what he’d done to the people he cared about.

“It was easy. I was never on your side, Gomez.”

“You’re going to pay for this!”

The gunshot echoed around the room, and Isaac collapsed to the ground.

Cass screamed, and Ramirez’s grip on her loosened, giving Irish the perfect shot.

He took it.

Ramirez went down, taking Cass with him.

Irish tossed the gun aside and rushed over.

Her eyes were wide, and her face as pale as the white shirt Gomez wore.

“I’ve got you, Alastronia ,” he whispered, extracting her from Gomez’s hold .

With her in his arms, Irish crawled away from her dead uncle, aware that people were crouching around Isaac, yelling for medics. All that mattered to Irish was the woman in his arms.

Cass was safe.

He was alive.

The threat was gone.

There would be a mess to be sorted out afterward, but it wasn’t his problem. Or even Alliez’s problem.

It was the DEA’s. With the death of her uncle, Cass was free of any family connections to the Ramirez cartel. The ones who knew about her connection to the drug lord were dead. Or would be, if Irish had any say in it.

“Dylan?” Her fingers brushed his cheek.

He flinched as her touch—although welcome—skated over his bruised flesh. “I’m okay, Alastronia. I’m okay.”

“Is it really over?”

“If it’s not, I’ll make sure it is.”

“Will he be okay?” Cass gestured to where Hound and Deal were kneeling over Isaac.

They had hands pressed on his chest to staunch the flow of blood. The hit had been direct, and Irish was surprised Isaac hadn’t been wearing a bulletproof vest .

“I don’t know, but I know our guys are going to do everything to keep him alive.”

She nodded. “He needs to be saved. He needs to know that he can get his life back.”

Her compassion for the man who’d caused her so much pain astounded him. Cass’s capacity to forgive was a trait he admired. Isaac had turned Ramirez’s attention away from Irish and Cass and onto him. That action, however minor, had been enough for Irish to be able to finish it.

Isaac needed to live so Irish could thank him for everything he’d done. If he hadn’t made that decision all those years ago to not leave Cass in Mexico, she wouldn’t be in his arms today.

Wouldn’t be his.

“I love you, Cassandra.” Irish trailed his fingers down her cheek. “You are my pulse. The very reason for my existence. You own me. Mind. Body. Soul. Heart. You are my love.”

Tears filled her eyes. “Oh, Dylan, I love you too. So much. You own me too. What I am is all yours.”

He lowered his head to touch his lips to hers. Peace settled over him at the connection he and Cass forged.

Irish was finally home.