Chapter 33

Declan~

"S hould she even be walking?" I asked Lochlan, though I could admit to being curious about whatever Keavy wanted to show me. "She's lost a lot of blood."

"No, she shouldn't be walking," Lochlan answered. "She shouldn't be doing anything but resting, but I have a feeling that she's not agreeable to that kind of direction."

"I just need to show you something, and then I'll rest," she lied.

"We need to get back to town," I repeated. "The longer that we're not available for questioning on Cooper Donaldson, the more that the police are going to look into us."

"Then let's get to it," Keavy snapped. "I'm not happy about any of this, either."

"Baby-"

"Look, let's just humor her while she's too incapacitated to murder us all where we stand," Noah said. "Because I agree that we need to get back to town."

"Fuck it," I sighed. "Fine."

Reaching for Keavy, I helped her to sit, then I pulled her into my arms bride-style. I made sure that her injured shoulder was nestled up against my body for support, and it was a good thing that the woman didn't weigh anything.

"Where are we going?" I asked.

Keavy jerked her chin towards the floor. "Pull up the rug."

"Awe, man," Lochlan whined. "Don't fucking tell me that you have a goddamn tomb of dead bodies down there."

"Don't be ridiculous," Keavy sighed tiredly.

"Oh, I'm being ridiculous?" Lochlan scoffed. "I'm not the person murdering motherfuckers left and right, Ms. Collins."

"Okay, that's enough," I ordered. "That's a topic for another time."

"Yeah, because the topic of taking a woman back home that holds no affection for any of us and has no problem pumping bullets into anyone that gets in her way can be tabled for later," Lochlan huffed as he moved the coffee table out of the way.

"I need a feckin' drink," Noah drawled out as he removed the area rug that Keavy had pointed to.

When Noah pulled back the rug, a trapdoor appeared, and with the pattern of the rug, you never would have noticed the small handle that stuck out. Granted, you wouldn't have been able to see anything with the coffee table in the way, but that was a fucking trapdoor if ever I saw one.

"There's no lock," Noah observed.

"A lock would just slow me down in an event of an emergency," Keavy told him, and I could only imagine what in the fuck was down there.

Studying the size of the door, I said, "Baby, I can't carry you down there."

"I know, Declan," she replied easily. "So, if you're worried that I'm going to faint, then you can go down first to catch me if I do."

"I don't like this," I said, though I knew that she couldn't care less.

"Put me down, Declan."

Sighing, I placed her on her feet, then after Noah pulled the door open, I started down the stairs, but backwards, so that I could keep an eye on Keavy as she navigated the descent. Lochlan was right behind her, eyeing her like a good doctor should.

However, because we'd been so focused on Keavy, neither Lochlan nor I had been paying attention to our surroundings, so when Noah let out a low whistle, I immediately turned my head behind me to see what had captured his attention, and nothing in this world would have ever prepared me for Keavy Collins' goddamn cellar.

I quickly turned back towards the woman that owned this fucking place, and after her feet were standing securely on the concrete floor, I asked, "What the fuck, lass?"

"Jesus fucking Christ," Lochlan muttered as he walked further into the room. "What…Christ, what is this place?"

"Goddamn, lassie," Noah chuckled. "At this point, I have no idea what to make of you."

As I looked around the cellar, I could hardly credit what I was seeing. Keavy's cellar rivaled a military armory, and I couldn't even fathom how she had managed to get some of the stuff that I was seeing. If the police ever found this place, Keavy would never see the light of day again.

"Holy fuck, what is this shit?" Lochlan asked, his eyes wide, and I didn't blame him.

"That's a Barrett M107A1," Keavy answered like she was talking about the weather. "It's a semi-automatic sniper rifle."

"What in the hell is this?" Noah asked as both men took in Keavy's inventory.

"That's a FGM-148 Javelin."

Noah looked over at Keavy wide-eyed. "How in the fuck did you get your hands on a military launcher?"

"I didn't," she said, not sounding concerned at all.

"This is a goddamn APC9 Pro-K SCW," Lochlan gawked.

"You seem to know your weapons, Mr. Murphy," Keavy drawled out sarcastically.

"It's a fucking submachine gun, Ms. Collins," he replied. "What in the hell do you need this for?"

"Apparently, to keep the M2010 sniper rifle company," Noah muttered.

The entire cellar was floor-to-ceiling racks of guns, ammunition, and whatever else you might need to start a small war. Nearly everything in here was illegal, and what wasn't illegal wasn't as impressive as what she could have only gotten through some pretty heavy connections.

"How'd you get all this?" I finally asked.

"Like I'd said, I didn't," she repeated. "I inherited everything in here along with the cabin."

I shook my head before dragging my hands down my face. While we were worth millions with everything that we had our fingers in, I was beginning to understand just how much I had underestimated Keavy Collins. Even after Morocco had told me everything that he'd found on her and Cian O'Connell, I had still underestimated her. While I was already making wedding plans in my head, they were with someone that I didn't know at all. Granted, this new development wasn't going to change my mind about Keavy, but I was going to have to readjust my way of thinking when it came to her.

Before I could say anything, Keavy said, "Now do you understand why I can't just leave the cabin? If those two assholes aren't alone, I can't leave this place to get ransacked by their buddies. If this Klive person comes looking for his friends, I can't risk anyone finding the trapdoor."

"Fuck," Lochlan hissed. "She's right, Declan. This would put millions in their pockets."

I looked over at my cousins. "We tell no one else about this," I said. "Not Aran or any of my brothers. We'll tell them when the time is right, but right now is not that time." Both Noah and Lochlan gave me a terse nod of understanding. "Call Tearney and Brody, then tell them that we need them here for the night to see if any more of Klive's men show up. Since they already know what went down here, they won't ask any questions. They'll think that it's just due diligence." I glanced around the cellar again. "After we're in the clear for Donaldson, then we'll figure out what to do about the cabin."

"There's nothing to do," Keavy announced. "I've already told you, this is my home."

I looked over at Keavy. "Your home is with me now," I informed her. "And we'll take care of Klive, so that you don't have to worry about the cabin."

"We've known each other a week, Declan," she replied seriously. "Actually, you don't even know me, or else you'd know that the rings on my fingers are weapons, too."

"I know enough," I retorted, finally realizing how she'd gotten free from the goddamn basement.

"Declan," Noah warned.

"Lochlan, you stay here until Tearney and Brody come back, and-"

"You're seriously going to leave him here alone?" Keavy gawked.

"I feel extremely insulted right now," Lochlan remarked absently.

"He'll be fine," I assured her. "He's a Murphy."

"Oh, well…why didn't you just say so," Keavy drawled out, the only thing missing was the roll of her eyes.

"Look, we need to let the police question us, then we'll figure out the rest from there," I told her. "I'm done discussing this with you, lass."

"You're going to regret this when I'm no longer suffering from a gunshot wound," she threatened.

"Baby, the last thing that I'm ever going to regret is you," I shot back.

Luckily, Keavy was too tired to argue any further, and two hours later, we were back at her apartment, and I was helping her pack for her stay at my place. Little did she know that I was going to have her completely out of here by the end of the month. Honestly, by the looks of the building, she was renting month-to-month, no lease to worry about, not that I couldn't or wouldn't pay the penalty.

After all, there was no going back now.