Page 100 of Mob Saint

Fucking mind reader now?

Heat explodes across the back of my left ribs as an electrical current jolts through me. It’s so unexpected, I can’t stifle my scream. It burns enough to make me sink to my knees. A matching blast of pain bursts through my right shoulder.

What the ever-loving fuck was that?

“You seem to need a little prodding to answer my questions. You’re as fat as a heifer, so a cattle prod should do the trick.”

So, we’ve escalated to physical torture. I was warned.

The pain steals my breath, so even if I wanted to answer, I can’t. I was so focused on the person in front of me I never sensed someone behind me. The moment I feel the tip brush against my right ass cheek, I spin away, twisting and reaching. My hands encircle the rod, so I yank as hard as I can, throwing my weight backward. I nearly go flying when I rip the cattle prod from its wielder’s hands. I swing it like a baseball bat, aiming for where I think someone is.

I contact something hard, and the person yelps. I do it again three more times until I hear something hit the ground. A string of curses tells me where they are. My hands have already found the trigger button, so I shove the zapping part of it forward. When it makes contact, I press the button.

“The fucking bitch just electrocuted me.”

I press it forward and activate it again. The bellow of pain is satisfying since I recognize this voice. I move it around like I’m poking coals in a fireplace, triggering it to release its surge of electricity wherever it touches. I miss sometimes, but other times I succeed. I keep going until massive hands grasp my upper arms and tug me backwards. I tried to swing the prod like a club back over my shoulder, but the hands tighten like manacles.

“Fuck you, Keith.” It’s the first time I speak since waking.

He’s not the one to respond. My tormenter’s voice is beside my ear.

“Luck’s run out, my little ice princess. You refused to die despite my best effort to kill all three of you in that car. I’m going to try harder this time.”

Darren?

Chapter Twenty-Four

Seamus

“Brant, someone took Tiera.”

I don’t bother with pleasantries. I don’t know if he deserves any, and I don’t have the patience to offer any. Meridith just cleared me from having a concussion. She’s already tended to Cormac’s shoulder, which she did first, then the graze on my leg and the gash on my dad’s forehead.

“What the fuck happened? Where’s my daughter, O’Rourke?”

There’s shock, anger, and fear in his tone. I hate to say “good,” but it reassures me he isn’t part of this.

“We were at her place. Nine men broke in and overpowered my dad, Cormac, and me. We killed a few, but not before they shot Cormac and me. Two of them went for my dad. It took both of them to control him enough to slam his head against Tiera’s coffee table and knock him out. One pistol whipped me from behind.”

I found out that’s how my dad got the cut on his forehead that wound up needing a row of stitches.

“You’re talking, and you said they knocked Kieran out. What about your brother?”

I appreciate he has the decency to ask.

“They shot him in the shoulder. He bled a lot, leaving him unconscious.”

“So, you’re all alive. Three mighty O’Rourkes couldn’t protect my little girl.”

I hear the last two words. They don’t mean the same thing as they do when I say them, but it produces another wave of rage deep in my gut. I want my little girl back. My cailín.

Brant isn’t done. “You insisted you could protect her better. She’s not under your care for a day, and someone’s taken her. Who the fuck touched her?”

“If I knew, I wouldn’t have called you. I’d be on my way to get her. Tell me the fucking truth. How much of this shite did you really know about?”

“You motherfucker. You still think I let someone go after my daughter for three years and did nothing about it. She hid the truth about how bad things were. No one clued me in that there was an outsider involved. I didn’t know shit.”

“You stayed behind after we left. Does Gareth know more than he admitted?”

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