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Peggy’s still there, sitting behind the wheel of her car.
“Peggy!” I yell as loud as I can, throwing the window open. “Peggy!”
“Jennifer?” she calls up.
“Something’s wrong. Come quick. Please.”
I take out my phone, trying to dial 911, but my hands won’t stop shaking. I can’t stop thinking about losing Kelly like I lost mom and dad.
Peggy rushes into the apartment. I wonder how she knew which one for a second, but then I think of Jamie telling her because he’s picked Kelly up here before. He and Kelly were so close and in love that she couldn’t even talk about him.
And now she’s gone.
“Give that here.”
Peggy softly takes my phone.
“Thank you,” I say, thinking she’s going to call the cops for me, but she just holds onto it.
“What are you doing?” I snap. “Call the cops.”
“Look,” Peggy says, nodding toward the TV stand.
I turn and spot it. A playing card with a four-leaf clover on it.
“What does that mean?” I whisper.
Peggy walks slowly over to it, picking it up like she thinks it might explode. “It means I need to call Jamie.”
CHAPTER
EIGHT
Jamie
“How is she?” I ask, sitting outside the strip club.
I’ve got the note in my glovebox, my whole body raging at whatever bastard was stupid enough to throw a brick through my window.
And to take me away from my woman, right when we were going to do it, claim each other hard, passionately, until your bodies gave us the life we need.
“She’s panicking,” Peggy answers, sounding matter-of-fact like she did when she was my arranger. “Four leaf clover. It’s a nod to the Irish. What’s the club look like?”
Across the street, I take in the sadly faded exterior. It’s called The Pleasure Palace, and just the thought that I’m here and not with Jennifer makes me want to roar.
“Not Irish,” I say. “But that doesn’t mean Cormac’s not behind this. I had a run-in with one of his guys a couple of weeks ago. Nothing major, and there’s been nothing since. I don’t know why he’d do this.”
“So, are you just going to go in there?” Peggy asks.
“I’m taking some surprises. Flash bombs if I need to shock them. My rifle. Two pistols. I’ve also been around back and set a charge on the electrical unit. I’ve got my night-vision goggles in my bag. If they try any shit in there, we’ll see how it goes.”
“You got your vest on?”
“Yes, ma’am,” I say, double-checking my Kevlar. “Take care of Jennifer. Keep her safe.”
“She can stay with Patrick and me,” Peggy says, referring to her husband.
“Call up a couple of friends too. I’ll pay. I can’t let anything happen to Jennifer.”
“I will,” Peggy says. “Jamie…I didn’t know you cared this much. About anybody. About Jennifer.”
“I care,” I snarl. “If Cormac’s hurt Jennifer’s sister, there’s going to be a serious problem. How much does Jennifer know, Peggy?”
A thought occurs to me suddenly. I told Peggy to answer any questions completely honestly because I trust her.
I trust Jennifer right down to my bones, even if that makes me insane. Then let me be insane.
I’d be anything, do anything for her. For our life.
“Everything,” Peggy says. “The teams. The other stuff. How many. Matt.”
“Okay.” I swallow, nodding, hoping she still wants me. “Have you explained about the cops?”
“That calling them would most likely result in the Irish – if this is them – executing her sister?”
“Yeah.” I grit my teeth. “I hope you phrased it better, though.”
“I did,” she says.
“I’m going to head in. Let’s hope I don’t have to go to war.”
I hang up the phone, shouldering my rifle, and walk across the street. A couple of pedestrians give me wide-eyed looks, but they know better than to call the cops in a neighborhood like this.
We’re on the bad side of town…only called the bad side because bastards like Cormac carve out pieces for themselves.
Sometimes, I wish I’d fought them all.
And died, Matt says in my mind. For what?
For him.
But then you never would’ve met Jennifer.
That’s the only thing that stops me from tearing this bastard’s head off. A big man, even a tiny bit taller than me, wide and smug-as-fuck as he steps around the desk, raising his hand.
The place is empty except for us.
I take a step back, looking him steadily in the eyes.
He’s got a tattoo under one eye, a teardrop, shaded green slightly, probably an Irish homage.
“You’re not taking your weapons with you,” the man says.
“I am,” I tell him.
He breathes in through clenched teeth. “I can’t let you do that.”
“You’ve got two choices. Stop me. Or let me walk by.”
I’m shaking now, thinking of these fucks kidnapping my woman’s sister.
She’s my ex-girlfriend too, I remind myself…but it was never like that.
What if Kelly never gets a chance to tell her sister the truth?
I keep my exterior calm as I walk around the desk toward the staircase which descends into a basement.
