Chapter 6

Cian

I was barely able to drag Aoife out of the hospital when Aunt Ashley and Ronan showed up the next morning. She was adamant that she wanted to be there if Richie woke up, but after a day and a half of no sleep, she just didn’t have it in her to fight me. Saoirse had gone back earlier, and I had serious doubts about Aoife’s ability to stay conscious on the back of my bike, but thankfully we got there without incident.

After crashing hard for a few hours, I woke up to my nephew’s nose just inches from mine.

“You sleepin’?” he asked. “Uncle Cian, you sleepin’?”

“I was,” I grouched, pulling him onto the couch with me. “You little gremlin.”

“I not a gremnin,” he argued, shoving at my chest. “I a boy.”

“Sorry, you’re right.”

“Auntie made me lunch,” he informed me, grinning.

“Mac and cheese?” I asked with a laugh. The evidence was all over his chin.

“And hot dogs,” Sean confirmed. “You want some?”

“Nah, I’m good,” I replied, setting him back on his feet.

“Seanie,” Saoirse scolded, hurrying out of the kitchen. “I told you not to wake Uncle.”

“Him awake,” Sean lied.

I snickered.

“Sorry,” she apologized as I sat up and scrubbed my hands over my face. “I was trying to let you sleep.”

“Is E still here?” I glanced toward her bedroom, keeping my voice down.

I shouldn’t have bothered. Saoirse shook her head.

“She left about twenty minutes ago.”

“Why didn’t she wake me?”

I pushed to my feet with a groan.

“She wanted you to get some sleep,” Saoirse replied sympathetically.

“She shouldn’t be drivin’ by herself.”

“She’s fine,” Saoirse said, glancing at Sean. “Ronan already texted that she was there, and he was headed back to his apartment to shower.”

“He couldn’t have showered when he went home last night?”

Saoirse just threw her hands up in a how-the-hell-would-I-know gesture.

“Speakin’ of showerin’,” I muttered, sniffing my pits. It wasn’t bad—yet—but I wouldn’t make it another day. “I need one. You wanna help me get some stuff out of my bags?” I asked Sean.

“Yeah!”

I always kept a spare shirt, boxers, deodorant, and toothbrush in my saddlebags. I’d learned the hard way that things didn’t always go as planned, and it was good to have something to change into. I let Sean pull things out of the bag and was seriously relieved that he was still young enough to not have any idea what the strip of condoms were when he reached the bottom.

“Nah, don’t need those, bud,” I said quickly, clearing my throat. “Drop ’em back in.”

“Okay,” he said happily, tossing them back in the bag.

Sean ran back to bug Saoirse while she cleaned up the kitchen, and I headed for the shower. Aoife and Richie lived in the same house that we’d grown up in. They’d updated different things over the years, like the shitty shower tile and the cracked sink—but the mirror above the sink was still the wavy-edged one we’d had when I was a kid.

It was always a trip to look at myself in it, remembering when I was so short I could only see the top of my head. After my shower, I stared at my face, using a towel to dry my beard.

Glancing down, I checked my phone. No notifications. Nothing new from the hospital or Aisling.

I clenched my jaw and dropped the towel. My eyes caught on the tattoo on my breastbone. The Kelly family crest. Aisling had done it freehand. I wondered if anyone had thought to call her work.

Fifteen minutes later, I was pulling into the tattoo shop. They were still open for a few hours, and the receptionist and another tattoo artist that I was sure I’d met before were in front laughing about something.

“How can I help you?” the receptionist called out as I opened the glass front door.

“Hey, I’m looking for Aisling.”

“Her brother, right?” the tattoo artist asked, pointing at me. “We’ve met, I think.”

“Yeah, man, you look familiar.”

“Tate,” he said, pointing to himself. “Ash isn’t here. She’s off today.”

I nodded, letting the door swing closed behind me.

Something in my expression must’ve made them realize that it wasn’t a social call, because both of them grew serious and the receptionist stood up.

“We can’t find her,” I said, cutting right to the chase. “Night before last she called Richie, freaked, and asked him to come get her. No one’s heard from her since, and Richie’s in the hospital.”

“He okay?” Tate asked.

“Someone shot him.”

The receptionist made a noise and braced her hand on the table.

“Night before last?”

“Yeah.”

I looked at her. She was about Aisling’s age, with short bleached hair.

“She was going on a date that night, remember?” the blond asked, looking at Tate. “With that guy from last week. The anchor and daisies guy.”

“What guy?” I asked, watching her closely.

“A customer,” Tate answered. “Usually don’t do that kind of thing, but I did the work, Aisling didn’t.”

“What do you know about this guy?”

“Uh, not much,” he said slowly. “Short dark hair. Money. Said he had to keep tattoos covered at work, so nothing below the wrists or above the collar. Some kind of corporate job, I think.”

“One that paid a fuck of a lot,” the blond added. “He tipped like a hundred percent.”

“Pay with a credit card?” I asked, trying to keep my voice calm.

“Man, we can’t—” Tate hedged, shaking his head.

“Aisling is missing and Richie’s probably not gonna make it,” I said flatly, cutting him off. “You say she went out with this guy. I’m sayin’ she ended up scared and callin’ our brother to come get her in the middle of the night. Our brother, who’s now dyin’ ’cause someone shot him. You really gonna pull that shit?”

“What’s goin’ on out here?” an older man asked as he walked out of a door behind the counter. He was a big guy, at least six-three, with a huge chest and arms and tattoos all the way up to his chin.

Tate quickly gave him a run-down of the situation.

“Give it to him,” the man said before Tate was even finished speaking. He looked at the blond. “You know where to look?”

“Yeah,” she replied quickly, sitting back down and immediately messing with her computer.

“I’m Dan,” the older guy said, coming over to shake my hand. “Own this place.”

“Thanks for cuttin’ through the bullshit,” I replied with a nod.

“Aisling’s one of ours,” he said easily. “I hope she’s okay.”

“Yeah, me too.” I looked over at the blond. She was still on the computer. Across the room a printer started making noise, and she hopped up and hurried toward it.

“You’ll let us know?” Dan asked as the blond carried over a sheet of paper.

“I will,” I confirmed, taking the paper. “Didn’t get this from you.”

Dan scoffed. “Someone asks, say whatever you want. I’ll deal with it.”

“Thanks, man.”

I didn’t look down at the paper until I’d reached my bike. The blond had printed out the man’s name—Julian Kitz—and a photo of the tattoo they’d put on his forearm. I smiled and pulled out my phone.

Brody answered on the second ring.

“Hey man, can you find someone for me?” I asked, watching the busy street.

“Depends on who you’re lookin’ for,” he replied. “You got a name?”

“Julian Kitz.”

“Age?”

“Twenties. I’ll send you the photo I have, too. It’s a recent tattoo, not sure if it’ll help.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” he said. “Gimme an hour?”

“That works. Thanks.”

“What’s this about?” he asked. I could hear the click of his keyboard in the background.

“Trouble with my sister.”

“Which sister?” The typing stopped.

“Aisling.”

“She all right?” It started again.

“Not sure yet. Can’t fuckin’ find her.”

“No shit?” He sucked in a breath. “You need me to come out there?”

“Nah, just find this guy.”

“I’m on it.”

I drove around town for an hour, searching through all of the people on the street. I didn’t really think Aisling would be out to lunch after what had happened with Richie, but I had to do something. Each minute that passed felt like it took a year.

With every moment that I didn’t get a phone call that Richie woke up or Aisling had shown up at the hospital, my teeth ground together harder and harder. My hands tightened on the handlebars as I took another pass along Main Street.

I didn’t let myself think about what would happen if Brody couldn’t find the guy Aisling had gone out with. He was the only link I had—unless Richie woke up and told us what happened. I tried not to let myself think about Richie either. There was nothing I could do for him at the hospital, but I was in a better position than any of my siblings to find Aisling. Now that I had something to go on, I refused to go back without her.

Finally, Brody texted an address.

The guy lived less than a mile away. I considered calling Ronan so I’d have someone at my back, but if this guy was the one who shot Richie, I wasn’t taking any chances with the brother I had left.

Five minutes later, I was pulling up in front of a big-ass house in a neighborhood of more big-ass houses. The lawns were manicured, the houses were all painted in varying shades of brown and gray, and the entire street stunk of a homeowners association. Even if this guy had parted on good terms with Aisling and gone home alone before all the shit went down, I knew I wasn’t going to like him.

I rang the doorbell twice, but no one answered. Knocked for a while. I had a feeling the neighbors were watching. My Harley didn’t really fit in with the electric cars and mommy mobiles on the street.

I couldn’t hear anything happening inside, but the house didn’t feel empty. Someone was there.

Figuring it was better to ask forgiveness than permission, I hopped off the front porch and rounded the house. The back had a huge patio and a pool that was covered. There was a hot tub off to the side, and the entire backyard had grass so green it looked fake. I walked like I owned the place and I was meant to be there, but the moment I saw the back windows, I froze.

My little sister was sitting at the kitchen table with her back to me. Her hair was tangled so badly that it looked like it had been through a windstorm, but I’d recognize the color of it and the set of her shoulders from a mile away in a crowd of thousands. She was staring at a dark hallway, but I couldn’t see what she was looking at. Glancing around the kitchen, I couldn’t see anyone with her.

Sliding my hand into my pocket, I quickly pulled out the pocketknife I’d had since I was eighteen. I wasn’t carrying a pistol, so it would have to be enough for whatever I’d deal with inside. Taking careful steps, I walked onto the patio, stopped at the door behind Aisling, and tapped quietly.

At the sound of my knuckles hitting the glass, Aisling jerked violently in surprise and spun toward me.

When I saw her face, it felt like I’d been punched in the gut. One of her eyes was wide with fear and the other was swollen completely shut. Blood had dried around the inside of her nostrils. One side of her bottom lip was twice as big as the other side. She’d been worked over. Bad.

Rage bubbled so hard inside me I thought I might choke on it. She mouthed my name, shook her head, and spun back around.

Like I’d just leave her ass there?

I tapped again, but she ignored me. She didn’t even twitch. I wasn’t against breaking the glass door, but when I reached for the doorknob, I was surprised as fuck when it turned and I was able to walk right inside.

“You have to leave,” Aisling breathed, not even glancing in my direction. Her entire body was shaking. “He has a gun. Go.”

I could hear a man’s voice from down the hallway, calling something out cheerfully, but I didn’t pay attention to the words—just the tone. Whatever he’d done to my sister? The motherfucker was enjoying it. Practically gleeful.

He’d had her for almost two days.

“Go,” Aisling whispered shakily, her hands clenched into fists on top of the table. “Please, please, please.”

Footsteps sounded, growing closer, and I quickly stepped to the side so I wouldn’t be seen as he got closer.

The man, Julian, stepped into the room in a white T-shirt and sweatpants, his feet bare. He looked like any other regular douchebag enjoying the weekend if you didn’t notice the revolver dangling loosely in his hand.

The next few seconds happened in flashes when I remembered it later. He paused just inside the room staring at Aisling, but must’ve noticed something off because he turned toward me almost immediately. I moved so fast, he only had time to raise his arm halfway before I punched him in the face and swung the knife at his belly. I’d never been so glad to be equally dominant with both hands as I grabbed at his arm and stabbed him once, twice, a third time. Fast and efficient.

The gun clattered to the floor as he dropped. Then I realized that he was laughing.

The motherfucker had laughed the entire time. It was unsettling, to say the least.

“You’ve got no clue who you fucked with,” he slurred, grinning at me. “No clue.”

I kicked him in the ribs.

He grunted at the impact but kept laughing. Jesus. The dude was nuts.

“Come on,” Aisling said, stumbling to my side. “Let’s go. Let’s go.”

“You fuckin’ kiddin’?” I asked in surprise, pulling my phone out. “I’m callin’ the cops.”

It wasn’t my first choice, in my line of work, we generally tried to steer clear of the police. But I was a day’s ride from my club, Aisling clearly wasn’t a willing guest, and I knew the law. I wasn’t going to get in any shit for going in to save her. I’d get jammed up for a minute, but they’d eventually have to let me go. Plus, the cops were already all over finding whoever had shot Richie, and the motherfucker was laying at my feet. They’d figure that shit out eventually. It was better to get ahead of it than for them to find him bled out on his kitchen floor with my sister’s DNA probably all over the house.

“You can’t,” she said, pulling at my arm as the guy laughed louder. “Trust me.” Her fingers dug into my bicep. “Please. We have to go now .”

I stared at her for a moment before nodding.

Fuckhead Julian was lying in a pool of his own blood, he wouldn’t even be able to crawl toward her—but Aisling wasn’t any less scared than the moment I’d found her. Something else had her spooked. It didn’t make any sense, but I’d learned to listen to my gut.

It was telling me to get her the fuck out of there and ask questions later.

While Aisling grabbed her purse, shoes, and coat, I grabbed a kitchen towel off the counter. I wiped my prints off the doorknob, picked up the revolver and threw it in the hot tub, then used the towel to clean my knife and hands. By the time we got out front, it was folded into a neat square that I stuffed into my saddlebags.

“Can you stay on?” I asked quietly as I helped my baby sister onto the back of my bike. She was moving carefully, and with every wince, I fought with the urge to go back inside and finish what I’d started.

“I’m good,” she said, settling herself. “Hurry.”

Aisling tucked her head between my shoulder blades as I backed out of the driveway and didn’t lift it again until we pulled into the parking lot at the hospital. I hadn’t had a chance to text anyone, so I was surprised to see Ronan hurrying toward us as I parked.

“You got her,” he called out in relief. Aisling lifted her head, and Ronan stumbled to a stop. “Jesus, Ash.”

“Take me home,” Aisling ordered, looking around. “Take me home right now.”

“Not happenin’,” I replied. “Get off.”

“No,” she said, her arms tightening around my waist.

“Ronan,” I barked.

Seconds later, Ronan was dragging our sister off the back of my bike while I held it steady. Aisling knew how to scrap, but she was no match for Ronan, and he got away from the bike in seconds. When I climbed off and looked at them, she was standing perfectly still in his arms, and his pale face was stark against her tangled hair.

“Richie’s the same, but cops are upstairs,” Ronan told me. “I came down to get some space.”

“Richie’s alive?” Aisling asked, her legs going out from under her.

“For now,” Ronan replied slowly. “Not sure which way it’s gonna go.”

“How?” Aisling asked in confusion.

“Someone called 9-1-1 in time, I guess.”

I couldn’t focus on Richie yet. I needed to take care of a few things first. Keeping my steps even and steady, I went over to my saddlebags, pulled out the towel, brought it to the garbage can a few parking spaces away, and reached in to stuff it inside a fast-food bag. When I turned back toward my siblings, Ronan’s eyes were wide.

“What the fuck was that?”

“I’ll explain later,” I said, going back to my saddlebags. I put my knife carefully inside a sock before pushing it to the bottom of the bag. “Come on, Aisling needs to see a doctor.”

“No, I don’t,” she rasped.

“Yeah, you do,” Ronan argued.

“Aisling, I love you, honey. And I wanna coddle you.” I leaned down to look her in the eye. “But after the shit I just did, you not lettin’ me call the cops, Richie touch and go, and our sisters worried out of their goddamn minds about you—I just haven’t got it in me. You’ll go inside and get checked out if I have to carry your ass.”

“Fine,” she said quietly.

My arms felt like giant weights dragging me down as we went inside the hospital, and I found a bathroom to clean up while Ronan got Aisling checked in. My cut was speckled with blood, and my hoodie was a fucking mess, so I tossed the hoodie and wiped down the leather as best as I could.

I’d just finished scrubbing my hands and cleaning under my fingernails when my phone rang.

“Hey,” I answered, gingerly putting the phone to my shoulder.

“The fuck is goin’ on, man?” Bas asked. “Yesterday we thought you were at Myla’s until Dragon mentioned you’d headed home, and now Brody’s sayin’ you had him run a name of some asshole?”

“It’s a clusterfuck,” I replied, leaning my ass against the counter as I finished drying my hands. “Got a call that Richie’d been shot—”

“What the hell?” Bas murmured. “Is he okay?”

“Not lookin’ good,” I ground out.

“Fuck,” Bas said so quietly, I barely heard him.

“Aisling was missin’.”

“Was?”

“Found her about an hour ago.”

“She okay?”

“Not good,” I murmured, thinking of the careful way Aisling moved her body and the condition of her face. “At the hospital now.”

“Where was she?”

“Holed up in some McMansion with a fuckin’ psycho.”

“You need cleanup?” Bas asked calmly.

“Motherfucker was alive when I left him, but I might.”

“I’ll head out in a bit. Be there late, so I’ll just grab a hotel.”

“I’ve got it handled,” I argued. “But thanks for the offer.”

“Cian,” Ronan called through the bathroom door. “They’re bringin’ Aisling back. Aoife came down to go in with her, and she wants you to go up with Richie.”

“I gotta go,” I said, straightening.

“Keep me updated,” Bas ordered.

I hung up and opened the bathroom door.

“Cops want to talk to Aisling,” Ronan said immediately. “She wants to talk to you first.”

I followed him back to a little room where Aisling was sitting at the edge of an exam table, already wrapped in a hospital gown and blanket. Aoife sat in the chair next to her. They were holding hands.

“Thank you,” Aoife said the second she saw me.

“You found me walking down First Street,” Aisling told me, her eyes steady on mine. “You have no idea where I was before that.”

“You’re kiddin’, right?” I asked incredulously.

“First Street,” she repeated. “I’ll explain everything later.”

“Explain now,” I ordered. I loved her so much, and I could see that she was hanging on by a thread, but whatever she’d gotten caught up in was fucked, and we’d all been pulled in.

“I don’t have time now,” she replied, looking past me to the nurses who were bustling around. “You found me on First Street, okay?”

“Fine.”

“I’m sorry, we’re going to need the room,” a kind woman said, stopping next to Roman.

“Go upstairs with Saoirse,” Aoife ordered. “I’ll stay with Ash.”

I nodded. There was nothing we could do for Aisling, and she deserved her privacy while the doctors checked her out. She didn’t need her brothers standing outside the room and possibly overhearing things she didn’t want us to. Moving forward, I leaned down and pressed my lips to her forehead.

“Thanks, Cian,” she whispered, leaning into it.

“I’ll always come for you,” I replied, leaning back. “You know that.”

Ronan and I were silent as we made our way to Richie’s floor. I’d never understood the idea of being pulled in two different directions until then. It was nearly impossible to leave Aisling and Aoife downstairs.

“Tell me what happened,” Ronan demanded as we walked down a hallway.

“Chick at Aisling’s shop knew who she’d went out with last night,” I replied. “Gave me a name. Found out where he lived, went there, found Aisling.”

“That’s not all of it,” he said, stopping to glare at me.

“That’s all you’re gettin’.”

“Bullshit.”

“Cops ask, I found her on First,” I said, too worn out to argue with him. I kept walking. “You heard her.”

“What the fuck is going on?” he hissed.

“I’ve got no clue,” I snapped as he caught up to me.

That shut him up.

“Me and Aunt Ashley switched places. She’s at home with Sean,” Saoirse said, getting to her feet. “You found Aisling?”

I nodded.

“Is it bad?” she asked softly.

“Pretty fuckin’ bad,” I confirmed. “But she walked out on her own two feet.”

“Thank God,” she whispered, her voice wobbling as she dropped back onto the couch. “Fuck. I thought she was dead .”

“I’ve got her,” Ronan said as Saoirse started to cry. “You go in with Richie.”

My gut churned with nausea as I walked toward Richie’s room. One of the nurses behind the desk pointed me in the right direction, but for a split second I thought I had the wrong room—I didn’t even recognize him at first. He was out, a tube down his throat, IVs and wires coming from under his blanket like a bunch of loose threads. He looked like shit.

“Hey, Pop,” I said, leaning down close. He didn’t even twitch. “Aisling’s okay. Not sure if anyone’s told you yet. I went and got her. She’s safe.”

I sat down in the chair next to the bed and leaned my elbows on my knees. “Aoife’s with her—that’s why she’s not here right now. She’ll be back in a little while, though. Sean’s at home with Aunt Ashley. He’s fine.”

I didn’t know what the fuck to say, so I stopped talking. It killed me that I didn’t know what had happened when Richie had gone to get Aisling. If he couldn’t hear me and leaving Aisling in danger was the last thing he remembered, then wherever he was, he was panicking.

“I’m still here,” I said after a while. “Not goin’ anywhere until Aiofe gets back, all right?”

I wasn’t sure how long I sat there. A couple hours at least. Every once in a while, I’d say something so he knew I was still with him.

Finally, the curtain was pulled aside, and Aoife stepped into the room. “Hey,” she greeted softly.

“Hey,” I said with a groan, sitting up. “Aisling?”

“She’s all done.”

“They discharge her?”

Aoife’s face was blotchy and pale. “I don’t think they wanted to,” she replied, looking at Richie. “But they knew she’d just be on a different floor of the hospital.”

“Here,” I said, standing. “Sit. Did she say anythin’ about what happened to Richie?”

“She hasn’t said much,” Aoife replied, walking to the bed. Her hand slid over the dull white blanket, her hand wrapping around Richie’s ankle. “She’ll tell us when she’s ready. Can you go get her? She wants to come back.”

I bit my tongue instead of telling her that Aisling would be talking soon whether she wanted to or not. I needed to know what the fuck was going on.

“No problem.” I muttered, turning to Richie. “Takin’ care of things here. Don’t worry.”

I walked to the door as Aoife moved into my place and leaned down to kiss her husband. “Hey, baby. Got our girl back. Everything’s gonna be okay.”

The waiting room was deserted except for my siblings. Aisling and Saoirse sat close together and Roman was across from them, his head resting against the wall.

“No change?” Saoirse asked.

“Not that I can see.”

“They said the next couple of days are the most important. They were able to repair everything, but now his body has to actually start doing all the shit it’s supposed to be doing again.” She reached out and gently rested her hand on Aisling’s back.

“Mam asked me to bring you in to see him,” I told Aisling. She looked like a ghost, her face was so pale and drawn. “You ready?”

Her hands were visibly shaking as she rose to her feet. “Yeah,” she rasped. “I’m ready.”