Into Temptation (Deliver Us from Evil Trilogy Book Two) Page 11

  “All right, we won’t change a thing.”

  “Grand,” I reply, thankful he’s finally clued on.

  There is no way I’m going to be tearing down walls, or adding a fucking theatre room just because. This castle has belonged to the Kellys for generations. It was the place my ma treasured. Even though I only remember bits and pieces from when she was alive, I do recall the pride she took in her home, especially her gardens.

  I intend to restore it to its former glory to honor my ma and Connor.

  Ronan has sent his colleagues to commence work on the castle because tonight is the meeting with Sean. We both agreed it’s too dangerous to be seen together, especially if Sean has eyes on the castle. We can’t let on that we’re onto him.

  So far, I haven’t seen him. But that doesn’t mean he isn’t watching. Underestimating Sean is what got me here. I think about all that he’s done, how I thought him killing Nolen Ryan was a favor to me. But he did that because Nolen was a threat. He was going to tell me the truth, but Sean killed him before he could.

  He has always been ten steps ahead.

  As I’m clearing the debris from the master bedroom, I dig into my pocket for my mobile to check my calendar as I’m still getting used to keeping track of days and weeks, but when I read over the text from Babydoll which was sent over two hours ago, I forget about everything but her.

  I need to get to Dublin.

  I woke alone. I was hoping it was because she saw reason. That she went to Rory after realizing she and I can never be. She clearly left without saying goodbye because she was angry with me. But that’s nothing new. We’re constantly angry with one another. And now she’s gone to Dublin just to show me how fucking angry she is.

  “Fuck!” I curse when I dial her number, only for it to go to voicemail.

  Jumping into my truck, I rake down the drive, not bothering to tell anyone where I’m going. All I care about is getting to Dublin. I don’t know why she’s gone to see Brody, but what I do know is that this can’t be good.

  I decide not to call Cian. The fewer people who know about this, the better as Brody Doyle seems to leave a trail of destruction wherever he goes.

  Looking at the clock on the dashboard, I realize that Ronan will be calling soon with information about where tonight’s meeting will take place. But I can’t worry about that. This, getting to Babydoll, takes precedence over everything.

  She is all that matters.

  Slamming my fist against the steering wheel, I seem to understand Connor more and more every day.

  “Rule with the cruelty I taught ya because it’s the only way to survive in our world.”

  That’s what he said to me before he took his last breath. He knew of the repercussions of falling in love. Look what his love for my ma did. He knew that love can be used as collateral, and in the hands of the wrong people, love can destroy kingdoms.

  It has.

  He didn’t want that for me, so he taught me how to hate instead.

  But I rebelled when I should have listened because I will crawl to hell and back to keep Babydoll safe. She is my one weakness, and that makes her valuable to my enemies. That puts her in danger, and to someone like Babydoll, where trouble seems to follow her, I need to keep her within arm’s reach.

  The drive to Dublin takes longer than I want, but I keep to the speed limit, not wanting to alert the peelers to anything suspicious, especially with Constable Shane Moore on the scene.

  I thought being released would be simple—find Sean and kill him, and save Ethan. But every corner I turn, I’m faced with one obstacle after another.

  The world isn’t what I remember it to be, and I realize it was easier once upon a time because of Connor. He ensured everything was kept in order. Aye, he strayed from the path and lost the respect of his men in the end, but that’s because he trusted the wrong person—Sean.

  Everything comes down to him. We all trusted him, and for that, we now pay the price for our foolishness. Finding him and making him pay, and pay painfully slow, can’t come soon enough.

  Once I’m in Dublin, I try Babydoll’s phone again, but it’s still switched off. Dread churns in the pit of my stomach.

  Finding a space, I park the truck and slip the hood low over my brow. This place will be crawling with Doyle spies. I want to remain as incognito as I can.

  Dublin has changed some since I was last here, but I suppose that’s what happens when ten years pass. It’s still bustling with people, which has always left me with the question—why would Brody bother with Belfast when he has Dublin?

  My phone rings, and when I see it’s Ronan, I’m disappointed and relieved in the same breath. I don’t stop walking. “What’s the craic?”

  “Punky,” he says. “I got the text.”

  “What did it say then?” I ask, allowing my frustration to show as I don’t have time for these theatrics.

  “Y’ll never believe it. The meetin’ is happenin’ at Kellys’ Aluminum.”

  I stop dead in my tracks, certain I’ve misheard Ronan. “Catch yerself on!”

  “I swear it,” Ronan cries, reading my disbelief over his claims. “Why would he do that, knowin’ yer back?”

  It’s at this moment the churning in my guts has me almost dropping to my knees. Once again, Sean has outsmarted us all.

  “Cami!” I cry, hanging up and running toward the pub.

  So many emotions are running through me, emotions Connor warned me about. But I didn’t listen, and now, so many people’s lives are at stake.

  My boots pound against the footpath, and when I see Brody out front, smoking a cigar, I clench my fists, ready to end his life once and for all. With the devil in my corner, he doesn’t see me coming, allowing me to connect with his jaw.

  “Ya fucking bastard! Where is she?”

  I don’t allow him to reply as I punch him again. The crack in his cheek sings to my depravity, and I won’t be satisfied until he is dead. “Answer me! Where is Cami?”

  Brody spits out blood, having the nerve to smirk in response. “Sorry, lad, what was the question? I didn’t hear ya over the lamping in my gob.”

  This is no time to be making jokes. “I’ll ask this once and once only. Where is Cami? Answer carefully ’cause yer life depends on it.”

  Brody senses the seriousness to my question, and his smugness soon fades. “She’s inside, having a pint. But I don’t think she wants to talk to ye.”

  “What did you say to her? If y’ve hurt her—”

  “She’s fine. Don’t believe me, go look for yerself. Why?”

  “Ack, quit the bullshit. I know you and Sean are up to somethin’. That’s why ya asked her here. That’s why Sean has the bollocks to call a meeting at Connor’s factory. He doesn’t want me there and knew I would come here to save her. What have ya done with her?”

  However, the more I divulge, the more evident it becomes that Brody has no idea what I’m talking about.

  “Brody!” a man calls out from down the street.

  We both turn and see a deliveryman pushing a trolley filled with kegs.

  Brody is so distracted by what I just revealed, he waves the man into the pub without saying hello. He smiles as he passes us, and when we lock eyes, I get the feeling something is very wrong.

  “I have no idea what yer yakking on about,” he says, wiping his bloodied lip with the back of his hand. “If what ya say is true, then why the fuck are ya here? Ye should be back in Belfast, getting rid of our problem.”

  His comment only cements the sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach.

  If Brody is telling the truth, then it’s safe to assume Sean is having a meeting at Kellys’ Aluminum because he wants me to know that I chose to be somewhere. He wants me here in Dublin so he can shite all over me and prove he’s still in control.

  I could have confronted him, but instead, I came here to save Babydoll.

  So, the question is, why does he want us all together?

  “Why did ya orde
r another delivery?” Erin says as she pokes her head out the door. She does a double take when she sees me. “Away with yerself!”

  We haven’t officially met as she knew me as Mike from America, not Puck Kelly. She looks how I remember her.

  “Not now, Erin,” Brody barks. “Yer brother probably placed the order. Go back inside.”

  But she stubbornly stands her ground and steps onto the footpath. She looks at her injured father, then at me, shaking her head in disgust before slapping my cheek.

  “Ya bleedin’ arsehole. Ye lied to me. Ya used me…Mike.”

  “Ach, so I did,” I reply, moving my jaw from side to side. I don’t make apologies because I would do it again.

  “I actually liked ya,” she reveals, turning up her lip, repulsed. “And yer my brother. That’s sick.”

  “Naw, I’m not,” I counter sharply, done playing this game. Nothing good has come out of this lie, and I intend to tell Babydoll the truth, regardless of the consequences. “I’m not a Doyle. I am a Kelly, but Connor Kelly isn’t my father. Sean Kelly is. Isn’t that right, Brody? Ya played along for whatever reason Sean told ya to, makin’ me believe that ye were my da.”

  Erin’s mouth hinges open while Brody stands rigid.

  “I know a lot more than ya think I do,” I state, eyeing him closely. “And I know Sean wanted us all together for a—”

  “Why did ya order another delivery?”

  The reason he wanted me here detonates inside me before everything explodes—literally.

  “Move!” I scream, desperate for Erin to move aside so I can go inside to save Babydoll, but it’s too late.

  My world is set on fire as The Craic’s 90 shatters the silence and is engulfed in black smoke and an earsplitting BOOM. I dive for cover behind a parked lorry on the road, but the stinging in my arms and legs is a sure sign I’ve been hit.

  Car alarms blare, adding to the chaos, as do the disorientated people who stagger along the footpath, bleeding and looking for missing limbs. I don’t bother to look at my injuries. My legs and eyes work; that’s all I need as I push past patrons who are stumbling from what is left of the blown-up pub.

  The smoke is so thick, I can barely breathe, so I place my forearm over my mouth and nose and run inside. There are small fires where debris has caught alight, but the mess is far worse from the blast of the bomb Sean planted inside those kegs.

  “Babydoll!” I call out, coughing madly as I inhale the suffocating smoke. The liquor is the perfect accelerant—it’ll only be a few minutes before this place explodes once again.

  Twisted, bloody bodies are strewn everywhere. Innocent victims who never wanted a part in this war. As my boots slip and slide during my frantic search for Babydoll, I realize it’s because I’m traipsing through blood and guts. The thought turns my stomach, and I want to be sick.

  But I don’t have time.

  When I see a head with brown hair a few feet away, I pray harder than I’ve ever prayed before that this isn’t Babydoll. I know for a fact that this person is dead because the head is no longer attached to a body.

  Dropping to a squat, I hold my breath as I cup the head in my trembling hands and turn it over so I can see the face. A sigh of relief leaves me when I see that it’s not her, but that’s soon replaced with regret for this poor lass whose life has been cut short.

  Someone’s jacket is within reach, so I wrap her head in the garment and place it on a table. It’s the only thing I can do to honor her in death.

  Sirens sound in the distance, hinting help is on the way, but it’s too late. No one in here is alive. It’s eerily silent. No moans for help. Just death lingering in the air.

  The back of the building has been blown out because of the blast, so I frantically race toward it as it leads out into the alley. There are people slumped against the brick wall, coughing, crying for help. I pass a man who is pushing his entrails back into the gaping wound in his body.

  I see a woman cradling her dead baby.

  I see the destruction my father caused because he wanted to send a message. He has eyes everywhere, and the gloves are off. Nothing, no one is off-limits. He doesn’t care who he kills to get what he wants.

  “Please, help me.” A woman tugs at my jeans with one hand; the other has been blown off.

  This is a war zone.

  “Help is comin’,” I assure her because she needs medical assistance, something I can’t provide.

  A man who is missing both his legs screams for help, and when I look his way, I see her—Babydoll.

  She has collapsed on the ground. She’s covered in soot and blood. I almost trip over my feet as I desperately run toward her. Dropping to my knees, I cradle her lifeless body against me.

  “No!” I cry, rocking her in my arms as I’m blinded by my tears. “Please, no. Wake up, Babydoll. Please.”

  But she doesn’t wake.

  With Babydoll in my arms, I look at the carnage around me, promising to avenge each life Sean took.

  “Come back to me, Cami. Please don’t leave me. All I wanted was to protect ya, but all I’ve done is get ya hurt.”

  I kiss her temple, her brow. I promise if she wakes, I’ll never allow her to be hurt again.

  Brushing the matted hair from her cheeks, I kiss her lips. “I love…you. So much.”

  A guttural sob fills the air, and I realize it’s come from me.

  If I could trade my life for hers, I would, and when her chest shudders, it seems my wish has been granted. But both our lives have been spared—for now.

  “Punky,” she wheezes, trying to open her eyes. “I can’t feel my…b-body.”

  And just like that, I feel like I can breathe again.

  “Shh,” I assure her gently, kissing her cheeks frantically. “It’ll be all right. I’ve got ya, and I’ll never let ya go again.”

  I wrap her arms around my neck and come to a stand with her securely against my chest. I cradle her close as I leave the carnage behind. I want to help, but I need to get Babydoll somewhere safe.

  As I walk down the alley with my eyes downcast, not wanting to draw attention, I see a blood-splattered Brody sitting in his car with his phone pressed to his ear. Erin’s bloody body lays twisted in a heap, feet away. Brody locks eyes with me, and with a simple nod, I know that he’s in.

  I need Brody to regain what is mine, and he needs me to kill Sean. We can work out the details later, but this attack is personal and has allowed Brody to see that it’s only a matter of time before Sean finishes the job.

  This was a warning. Next time, we won’t be so lucky.

  Brody’s allies are no more. Sean is the new king, and he has no qualms about spilling innocent blood.

  With Babydoll pressed to my chest, I run toward my truck. Ambulances, police, and fire engines line the street, but I can’t be here because they’ll ask questions I can’t answer.

  A tender caress against my face has me peering down to see Babydoll touching my cheek. “You’re bleeding,” she deliriously slurs. “I liked your piercings. Will you put them back in?”

  “Aye, whatever ya want, Baby.”

  She smiles, her hand slipping from my cheek as she doesn’t have the strength to hold it up. But that’s all right—I’ll be the strength she needs.

  She’s passed out by the time I gently place her into the truck and speed away.

  I can’t help but glance at her every few seconds to ensure she’s breathing. She is.

  She needs to go to the hospital as I don’t know the extent of her injuries. Everything looks to be attached, but it’s the unseen which worries me.

  “It’s going to be all right. A’ll take ya to the hospital.”

  “No,” she groans, attempting to shake her floppy head. “No hospital. Too many questions. I’m okay now. I can feel my legs. I think.”

  She’s right about the questions, but I won’t risk her life.

  “Take me back to Belfast,” she breathlessly pleads.

  My heart hurts because, o
f course, she’d want to be with Rory. As much as it pains me, I dial his number, but Babydoll reaches out and winces as she disconnects the call.

  “Ya don’t want Rory?” I ask, confused.

  And what she says next confirms what a bastard I truly am, because these are the words I’ve wanted to hear for ten long years.

  “I think…I think I’m broken because I have a man who could make me happy, yet…I still want you. I always want you.” She closes her eyes and slumps against the chair.

  She’s breathing. She’s just exhausted.

  I’ll heed her wishes, and we’ll go back to Belfast. I’ll call an old doctor friend of Connor’s. He’s surely retired by now, but I’ll make clear this request isn’t optional.

  “She’ll be all right,” Dr. Shannon says, packing up his supplies. “If anythin’ changes overnight, give me a call.”

  “Thank you, Doctor. I’ll make sure ya get paid.”

  He nods, coming to a stand. “I’m glad yer back, Puck. Yer father would be happy that yer fixin’ this place up.”

  “I’m tryin’,” I confess, running a hand through my hair as I sit vigil by Babydoll’s bedside.

  “I’ve left some medication for you too,” he says, gesturing to the tablets on the nightstand.

  “I’m all right, but thank you.”

  Dr. Shannon insisted he look over my injuries once he examined Babydoll. I had shrapnel embedded in almost every part of me, but it was an easy fix, and he stitched everything up. Besides, my injuries are the least of my worries.

  Babydoll has a few broken ribs and a sprained ankle. She also sustained a nasty gash on the back of her head. Like me, she had shrapnel in every part of her, but the doctor could remove it without her needing to go to the hospital.

  Dr. Shannon didn’t ask any questions, nor did he insist we go to the hospital, as he knows better. He’s seen enough during his time being on call to Connor.

  Babydoll is sleeping soundly as the doctor gave her sedatives. She is a fucking warrior because not once did she cry out, or hint the real pain she was in.

  “A’ll see myself out.” The door closes a few moments later.

  I’ve not let go of Babydoll’s hand since Dr. Shannon said I was able to be with her. I wish I had the chance to fit my bedroom with a proper bed, but since I got out of prison, life has been a fucking shitshow.