Chapter 42

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

CATLIN

A COUPLE OF DAYS LATER

QUINN

Have you tried to talk to your uncle lately?

Daily.

He won’t take my calls.

That’s what I thought.

Why?

I reached out about setting up the baptism for Rory and Kira. He politely requested that I contact Saint Bernadette’s.

That maybe they’d be a better fit for our family

I’m sorry

I haven’t been to mass since Uncle Sean forced me out of his life, but Quinn has let me know a few times that he’s been cordial when she’s approached him after mass. Cordial, not friendly.

I’ll get him to reconsider

“Please don’t hang up,” I blurt when Uncle Sean answers the church phone, promptly hearing the click of his dropping it into the receiver. When I redial his number, I’m not surprised that it goes to voicemail.

He can’t ignore me if I’m standing in front of him.

I send a quick text to Owen and William before changing my clothes.

Please get the car ready. I need to go somewhere.

WILLIAM

Yes, ma’am.

I’ll be ready in about ten minutes.

OWEN

I’ll be outside your door in five.

I rummage through the closet in the master bedroom for a shirt that will cover the tattoo below my shoulder. Pulling a light cardigan over my tank top, I also change from my denim shorts to a pair of jeans.

As promised, Owen is ready and waiting when I step from the hallway into the apartment. “Where are we heading in such a rush, ma’am?”

“Church. Our Lady of Grace,” I inform him as we ride the elevator down to the garage where William is waiting with the Suburban. On the short drive to the church, I try a few times to call Finn to tell him where I’m going, but the call rings through to his voicemail each time.

“Can you message Finn and let him know where we are?” I ask as William flips on his hazard lights and stops before the church.

“As soon as I park, ma’am,” he responds. Owen slides from the SUV and opens my door to escort me into the church. William turns off the hazard lights and pulls away from the curb as Owen lags behind me, making my way up the steps.

“Please head inside,” Owen urges, his eyes following a black SUV trailing closely behind William.

Suddenly, they ram into the back of our Suburban, prompting William to stop. The moment he steps from the Suburban to survey the damage, two loud pops echo down the street, and my heart stops. A shrill scream rises from my lungs as I watch William crumple to the pavement. In shock, I can’t comprehend what’s happening and what danger I’m in.

“Inside!” Owen shouts as he races up the steps to close the distance between us. Wrapping his arm around me when he reaches me, he pulls me into him and shrouds me with his body as he drags me up the steps. He shoves me through the door of the church and expels a pained grunt as he stumbles in behind me. Forcing himself to his feet, he grabs at his back and unconvincingly winces. “I’m fine, ma’am. We have to get you inside.”

A deafening bang echoes through the church, and my blood runs cold as I watch Owen’s head blow across the door. “No, you aren’t.” A gruff Russian accent startles me from the threshold of the narthex as I slap my hand over my mouth to hold back my need to both vomit and scream.

Spinning around, I find a gun pointed at my face. Ink-covered hands are wrapped around it. My eyes continue down the heavily tattooed arms to find a massive man with a tinge of gray in his hair. His dark eyes meet mine, and he gruffs, “And neither are you.”

My phone rings in my purse as he grabs my arm and roughly pulls me through the narthex, where other men and Uncle Sean are waiting.

“Catlin,” Uncle Sean painfully cries as I’m shoved into the nave. His bloody face is dripping over his shirt, and his left eye has swollen almost completely shut.

“You should’ve just called her. It would’ve saved you a lot of pain.” The Russian snarls at Uncle Sean as he wraps his arm around my throat. Tightening his grip, he pulls me into him with my back against his chest. He runs the cold barrel of his gun along my jaw, forcing me to turn my face toward him. As I stare into his cold, dark eyes, he continues moving the gun down my neck and around the swell of my breast. His touch runs chills down my spine, but his words turn my blood into ice. “I’ve been dreaming about getting my hands on you.”

My phone rings again, and the Russian rips my purse from hand and tosses it to one of the other men. He rifles through my bag, pulls out my phone, and holds the screen toward the man holding me. “It’s Finnigan.”

“Send it to voicemail,” the Russian commands, still traversing his gun down my body. When it rests between my thighs, he whispers, “I didn’t get my chance with the bar whore, but I fully intend to make up for that with you. And when I’m done fucking ruining you, I’ll let my boys have a turn. When they’re done, we’ll call your little boyfriend to see what we’ve done to you before we kill him.”

Owen’s phone rings, echoing from the vestibule, and I struggle to find the courage to spit, “That’s Finn, making sure I got here okay.”

“The idiotic man who fucked anything with two legs and cunt is fucking obsessed with you, huh?” he taunts, squeezing my throat harder as he continues to rub his gun between my thighs. Bile rises higher in my throat with every word that passes over his lips. “That little pussy of yours must be something spectacular.”

My phone rings again, and the Russian gestures at the man holding it. As he walks closer, the Russian takes his gun from my thighs and rams it against my cheek, warning, “I’ll blow your fucking pretty face across this church if you do anything stupid.”