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Three minutes and thirty seconds…
“You’re mistaken,” I press, continuing to stall. “I don’t know who told you all this, but they’re wrong.”
Brody nods, but he doesn’t buy it. “Ach, I’m sorry then. We must have got our wires crossed,” he says, gesturing with his chin toward the van.
The door opens, and the person who is shoved out of the van has me questioning everything. But I don’t allow my emotions to betray me. I can’t.
Babydoll is escorted over to Brody by some arsehole. Her chin is downcast. She can’t even look at me. Is she his prisoner? Has he captured her as he did with Cian? I don’t understand.
“Don’t be afraid,” Brody soothes Babydoll who is trying her hardest to suppress her sniffles. “If what ye say is true and ya don’t know him, then that’s my mistake. But if yer lyin’—”
He grabs a hold of Babydoll’s ponytail and tugs her head back.
I instantly advance. “Let her go.”
Brody smirks, knowing he’s won. “Ye don’t know him, do ye?”
Babydoll holds her ground. “No, I do not.” She doesn’t disguise her accent, so Brody knows she’s American.
“All right, my mistake then,” he says, but he doesn’t believe her. “If ya don’t know him, then it wouldn’t bother ye if I killed him in front of ye. Or maybe I should make him watch me kill you. Get on yer knees.”
He lets Babydoll go, and she stumbles, attempting to find her footing. The fucker behind her forces her to her knees as she fights him savagely. Brody reaches into his holster and produces a gun.
“I’m sorry,” she mouths to me, tears running down her cheeks as Brody presses the gun to the back of her head.
But it doesn’t end this way for us.
Reaching for my gun with speed, I point it at Brody, who laughs animatedly. The time has come for this to end once and for all.
“Let her go, ya fucker,” I say, Mike from America long gone. “Aye, I’m Puck Kelly, and I killed yer brother and son. I would do it again given half the chance.”
Babydoll shakes her head, squeezing her eyes shut.
“Y’ll need to give me a minute because I’ve been dreamin’ of this day,” Brody says, unable to contain his excitement. “Y’ve caused so much trouble, lad.”
“Cheers, thank you,” I sarcastically reply. “Get up, Babydoll.”
Babydoll’s lower lip trembles as she comes to a cautious stand. I expect her to come over to me, but she doesn’t. She stands by Brody.
“Babydoll?” he questions, laughing.
I never take my gun off Brody, but that doesn’t bother him.
“I never thought this would work.”
“What would?” I question.
“This,” Brody replies, gesturing with his gun between Babydoll and me.
“Spare me the fuckin’ theatrics,” I snap, not interested in playing his games.
“Punky, don’t—” Babydoll warns, fresh tears rolling down her cheeks.
“It’s too late for that. He deserves to know. Should I tell him? Or do you want to?”
I beg of her to explain what he’s talking about, but all she does is look at me with nothing but desperation. “I’m sorry. Please forgive…me.”
I lower my gun, suddenly realizing it’ll do no good because I’m in this alone. No one here is a friend; they’re all my foes.
