“And Maeve can’t annul it?”
Grinning, I tap his cheek, a bit too hard to be affectionate. “Aren’t you cute?”
“Maeve’s been trying, but it’s out of her hands,” Hayes supplies, slipping his phone into his pocket. “The money is through a third party, and the hit is on all the active players’ lists. The best she can do is help keep him hidden.”
“That he fucked up by appearing in the city.” The Prince and I share a tired look.
My phone vibrates, the coordinates from Briar’s pack coming through. It’s a digital tracking device, with Ronan the target. Glancing at the screen, I recognize where he is—in the Little Italy area by the tourist areas.
“Fucking O’Briens,” Alessio curses under his breath. I grab my jacket, much to Hayes’ annoyance.
“Hey! You’re going to help clean this up.”
I wave the phone in the air. “Put it on my tab. Help Maeve, I’m going to figure out where the Board is.”
“And if you don’t come back?” he asks, eyes hard.
I hear what he’s saying—why he asked.
Briar coming back and disappearing is one thing. But what if I leave? What if I don’t come back? Maeve barely survived the last time I left without telling her. If I do it again after getting her back, it won’t be a matter of survival. She’ll die.
“I’ll be back,” I promise. “It’s only recon.”
With one more look, I melt into the shadows of the compound.
32
KILLIAN
Ronan is a man of simple pleasures. A cold beer, a pussy to fuck, and a greased gun that sits on his hip, even when he’s sitting on the toilet. If I didn’t just watch him fuck a sex worker in the middle of an alley, I would think the gun was the most important thing in his life.
Well, it could still be. He keeps caressing it. It’s fucking weird.
I follow him through the streets as he makes his stops. It’s almost early morning before he leaves the city in a rental car, heading north. Although I usually take Maeve’s car, I stole Collins’ sedan to stay off their radar. Blending into traffic, I curve through the interstate roads until we pull off to some forgotten exit over the state border.
Through the thick woods, over barren roads, I keep a safe distance. I don’t want to spook him, but it’s a struggle not to ram the car into his bumper and send his flying off into a ditch. Maybe break every bone for thinking of harming the woman who owns my heart.
But I wait.
He turns off the bumpy road onto a barely-there track. Instead of following, I park the car down the road and hide it under the brush. Checking that both my knives are on my belt and my gun is on my back, I take off into the woods.
It takes minutes to walk through the impressions. In the back of my head, I know I should be worried about wildlife—bears, moose, or, fuck, a bobcat—but I’m focused on my goal.
Get to Ronan. Kill Ronan. Get the Board’s location. Get back to Maeve.
Simple enough.
It’s not long before I see the lights among the heavy leaves. A giant cabin built from new money, it’s a beacon in the dark woods. Cedar logs, a large front porch, and wide-open windows, I hurry to the side, flinging myself behind a giant oak for safety.
Guards with large weapons are on the corners, scanning the grounds. Above their heads are cameras.
I’d be impressed if I wasn’t irritated. They couldn’t make this easy?
Slowly, I pick my way through the trees, on the edge of sight. Using the shadows to my advantage, I slink through undetected.
Once I’m in the back, I sneak toward the back door, keeping my back to the side. On silent feet—I’m not some fucking amateur—I step onto the stairs and press to the wall. Through the panel glass, I can see directly through the kitchen into the dining room.
Lush leather furniture and mantles of deceased animals hang on the walls. It’s meant to be an old hunting lodge, but everything is too new—everything gleams, and it smells like cheap cigars. At the table, various shades of gray sit around, glasses of brown liquor at their elbows.
