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My stomach churns. I swallow down bile and debate about what to do. I finally dial my dad.
Dad answers, "Tynan."
"Malachy shot Brogan. They're taking him to the hospital. I don't know if he'll make it or not."
"You're fucking kidding me," Dad says.
"No, I'm not. And Malachy has Maeve."
"Where's he taking her?"
"I don't know. But I'm going to pull up the tracker," I reply and hang up. I tap the app, but Maeve's phone is still off. I mumble, "Turn it on, sunshine." I scrub my face and move toward the door.
"Her phone is here," the bartender calls out.
I turn, and she points to a table.
I snatch it up and slide it into my pocket.
What now?
She drove the Bugatti.
I tap my screen, and the tracker appears. The dot moves toward Dublin, and my gut sinks further.
"Motherfucker," I mumble, then try to call her da. It rings twice, then I'm sent to voicemail.
"Goddammit," I bark. I exit the pub, get in my car, and drive toward the Bugatti. I hit an option on the tracker, and my skin crawls.
I'm about two hours away from Maeve.
I'm going to kill Malachy.
My dad calls.
"Malachy is taking her toward Dublin," I tell him.
He informs me, "Your brothers are on their way."
I open my mouth to speak, but the dot on the tracker stops moving. I wait.
Dad says, "Tynan. Ya there?"
"Aye. The Bugatti isn't moving."
"Stoplight?"
"I don't know," I admit, studying it while continuing to drive.
Several minutes pass. Dad stays quiet.
I offer, "It's still not moving."
"Your brothers will meet ya. Keep your phone on so Brody knows how to find ya."
"Done." I hang up and stare at the dot. Hope fills me.
She better be okay.
