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And perhaps, in some small way, they do.
“Fuck,” Ciarán mutters, his eyes never leaving the retreating ambulance. “We need to move fast.”
“The police...”
“Can fucking wait.”
With that said, he grabs my hand, crushing it as he practically drags me back to the apartment building and away from the approaching police officers. My feet trip as I try to run to keep up with him, but my legs won’t work properly.
We push our way through the frenzied crowd, each step taking us farther away from the scene of the explosion but not from the fear that threatens to consume us. As we stumble into the underground parking, I shudder at the memory of the flames devouring Cathal’s car.
“Hey,” Ciarán whispers, pulling me close. “He’s going to be okay, Summer. Remember what I said – Cathal’s a fighter. He won’t go down this easily.”
“I know,” I say even though I don’t know anything, burying my face in his chest, inhaling the scent of him amidst the lingering smoke and ash. So much of me is screaming to tell him about my parents, but now isn’t the time for him to worry about a nearly two-decade-old crime. He needs all of his focus on Cathal.
We both do.
As we stand there, hugging each other tightly, our faces etched with worry and uncertainty, I can’t help but wonder what the future holds. Will Cathal survive? And if he doesn’t, how will we ever pick up the pieces?
For now, though, all we can do is hold onto each other and hope.
2
CATHAL
The sterile scent of antiseptic fills my nostrils as I blink open my eyes, the harsh fluorescent lights assaulting my senses.
I’m in a fucking hospital bed.
My body screams with pain, but it’s nothing compared to the raging inferno of fury that burns within me. Someone tried to kill me, and there is no way in hell I’ll let them get away with it.
Gritting my teeth, determination surging through me as I attempt to sit up. Every movement is agony, but I refuse to be confined to this bed. The memories of the explosion creep into my mind, fragmented and hazy, but they’re all I have to work with. Who the fuck would want me dead? My enemies are numerous, but who among them has the balls to take such a bold step?
With a wince, I manage to prop myself up on my elbows, sweat beads forming on my brow from the effort. I can feel the heat of the blast still lingering on my skin, the sharp stench of explosives clogging my senses.
“Fucking cunt,” I mutter and flop back to the bed, stifling my cry of pain.
Broken ribs. Check.
Minor burns. Check.
Possible fractured skull. Check.
Concussion. Double Check.
All in all, I got off lightly. I was making my way to Ciarán and Summer when the explosion went off, so I was faced away and a few meters from the car. Any closer, and I’d probably be dead. Or at least have my fucking face burned off.
“Fuckers!”
Closing my eyes, I focus on the moments leading up to the explosion, but there’s not a lot there. Not surprisingly.
“Fuck!” I hiss through clenched teeth, frustration mounting. It’s not enough. I need more if I’m going to find the bastard responsible for this. But one thing is certain: whoever they are, they’ve made a fucking bad screw-up in coming after me andnotmaking sure I was dead. Not to mention, with Summer so close, if anything had happened to her...it doesn’t bear thinking about. If anyone thought I was hard on them before, they haven’t seen nothing yet.
Shaking off the frustration, I grit my teeth and force myself to sit up again, ripping the nose tubes off and letting them drop. My body trembles, but I force myself to keep going. Unpeeling the heart monitor stickers hurts like fuck, but I keep going, one by one. The room is swimming in a haze of pain and nausea, but I can’t afford to wait around any longer. If I don’t find my would-be assassin, they will strike again, and I’m in no fit state to stop them.
Rising to my feet, my legs wobble, but I remain upright. Stumbling toward the door, the godforsaken hospital gown flapping around my bare ass, I stagger toward the voices coming from the waiting room.
Summer and Ciarán.
