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In the back of the SUV, Ronan is on the phone with Liam, getting a more detailed report of what happened from the moment we left until now.
Screeching to a stop against the curb in front of his house, Seamus is out of the SUV before the engine has even turned off, Connor and Paddy flanking him, eyes darting everywhere. Ronan quickly flanks Connor. If someone is going after Fitzpatricks in this city, they all need to be covered.
I follow at a slower pace. Seamus is through the front door, disappearing into the kitchen, the others following just as quickly. I take my time, my eyes moving about the scene.
They have walked over a trail of blood dripped evenly. Whoever was bleeding was carried. They didn’t walk out of their own volition, and the wound wasn’t dressed or even compressed.
Seamus is climbing to his feet in the kitchen when I walk in, my eyes glued to the large puddle of blood in the middle, where a kitchen knife is lying. I skirt the pool, moving to the kitchen cabinets, crouching beside a small, smudged bloody handprint left on the white cabinet door.
“Tiggy’s handprint,” I grunt. Seamus loses it, howling at everyone to find her. They talk about a cell phone Seamus gave to Tiggy this morning. It’s a lead and the only one we have.
The new phone starts texting Seamus, taunting him about not being man enough to come and get her. The lads –apart from Paddy – are convinced it’s not Tiggy texting. Paddy snorts, snatching the phone and glancing over where I’m crouched beside the blood pool.
“You sure that’s blood?”
My eyebrows shoot up. It’s congealing like blood. Slicking a finger through it, I rub it between my thumb and forefinger, sniffing at it. Yeah, it’s blood.
“Definitely blood, definitely fresh.”
They go back to their argument about where Tiggy might be. I stare at the puddle on the floor, frowning. There’s too much blood. It’s not smeared enough for this to be from a chest wound. I’d say an artery was hit. If it’s Tiggy’s blood…Seamus needs to prepare himself.
“It’s about twenty minutes out,” Connor says, tapping around on his phone, lifting it to his ear as he barks an order to someone with an address – something about wanting CCTV feeds to his phone A.S.A.P.
“Saddle up, lads,” Seamus snaps, striding out of the kitchen like an avenging angel. Jesus fuck. I need to pull him aside and warn him that Tiggy might not be alive to save.
We arm ourselves from the weapons cache in Seamus’s den, and he, Paddy, and Connor slide into his SUV, peeling out. I climb into Ronan’s, with Liam sliding into the back seat. The tires screech as Ronan hits the gas, chasing after Seamus’s vehicle.
“What should we be expecting?” Ronan grunts at me. I glance over at him, eyebrows raised. Of course my best mate noticed my face in that kitchen.
“That much blood? Has to be an artery.”
“Ye think she’s dead?”
Liam makes a choking noise in the back seat. I ignore the lad.
“If it was her blood, I think Seamus needs to be warned.”
“He’ll shoot whoever tells him that.”
“Maybe Paddy should take one fer the team.”
“Tiggy isn’t dead,” Liam snaps, his face pale. “She’s just not.”
Ronan’s eyes meet his in the rearview mirror. “If she is, lad, ye need to be prepared.”
“For what?”
Ronan sighs, shaking his head. “To get the feck out of there before Fitzy guts ye like a fish. If she’s dead, ye don’t hesitate, d’ye understand me? Ye get the feck out, ye take this SUV, and ye don’t stop driving until ye hit Mexico.”
“I’m not running scared,” Liam scoffs with all the bluster and confidence of a twenty-five-year-old lad. “Besides, Tiggy’s not dead.”
“Ye’ll do as ye’re told,” Ronan snaps. Liam falls silent, his eyes and jaw tight as he nods to Ronan, who turns his attention back onto Seamus’s brake lights.
The address is a warehouse. This is a fucking trap. We walk right into it because we have no other choice, and Seamus is convinced his wife is in there and he’s getting her back.
As we walk into the main room, Tiggy turns to us from where she’s standing, staring down a load of guns. Liam and Ronan both sag with relief to my left, even as they raise their weapons.
Tiggy is covered in blood, but as she sprints to Seamus, sobbing, screaming, and throwing herself at him, she’s not moving like someone who has lost blood. Relief surges through me. Thank Christ for that.
