Page 9 of Midnight Escape

A name she recognized was growled inside the room. With a jump, fear lodged in her throat. It hadn’t been loud, but it’d been clear to her. Or had it? Maybe she’d misunderstood. Really, what were the chances these three would speak of her brother?

“I’ll kill Declan Gallagher and my pregnant whore of a daughter!”

Her limbs froze.Jeanie Mac!She didn’t care she’d jumped back to slang. Murder and her brother’s name spoken in one sentence was too much.

While her thoughts could be thick sometimes, she couldn’t help the fear that shot through the muscles she’d recently relaxed. She didn’t wait around to find out more. Something told her that her instinct had been right on board to leave. If these men found out who she was, would they kill her to keep her silent?

Spinning around with haste, she tripped over the tray, spilling the silver teapot with a clatter that sounded like a bomb exploding in her ears.

Legging it down the hallway, she didn’t look back. Declan had taught her that could lose valuable time if someone followed her. Where was her overprotective brother now when she needed him? A sob nearly lodged in her throat. Could she get to him in time? Please let them be speaking of another Declan Gallagher.While she didn’t wish death on anyone, she loved and needed her brother.

As she passed through the door near the kitchen, she ignored the chef’s call out to her.

Her pulse pounded so loudly in her ears, she wouldn’t have been able to hear if footsteps pounded the pavement behind her. She just had to make it to her car and escape.

If only she hadn’t knocked over the tray, no one would’ve known she’d been outside the door. Then again, maybe they hadn’t heard it like she hadn’t heard them.

Moira raced straight to the door leading to her car, past the gaping taskmaster, and exited, not caring about returning the damn apron she still wore. Let them charge her for it.

Her breath shortening and shaking like a leaf, she fumbled with her car door handle, thankful she’d felt safe enough to not only leave her door unlocked but keep the key fob in her glove box. She fumbled in her purse—spilling most of the contents—then finding what she’d sought, brought her inhaler to her mouth, and gave it two quick puffs. After a moment to resettle, she drove off with haste, ignoring the blasted beeping reminding her to latch her seat belt.

Tapping her fingers nervously on the steering wheel, she kept glancing out her rearview mirror to see if someone followed. After several minutes, she blew out a solid breath. No one followed.

What now? Her heart sank. What would happen to her if they found out she’d overheard? She could be called into court as a witness, or—she gulped past the hard lump lodged in her throat—she could be taken out as a witness.

Not knowing her next step—whether reporting it to thegardaior hiding out—she drove on autopilot to her brother’s home. Using a voice command through her car’s Bluetooth, she phoned him. When he answered, her wavering voice announced, “Someone wants to murder you.” Just saying that sent tears welling in her eyes and the aftershock rocked her system. The weight of what she’d heard terrified her.

Fighting back against the wash of emotion threatening to send her into a near breakdown, she swallowed back and wiped her eyes. It only helped a bit, but that bit would get her where she needed to go.

“What?” Declan’s alert voice settled her a bit more. He’d fix it. He’d always done so when she needed him.

“He wants to kill you. And, I think Diana, too.” She could be taking it all out of context, but she wouldn’t take the chance. Not until her brother helped her decipher everything and make a plan.

When her brother didn’t speak right away, her heart lurched and tears streamed down her face unchecked. What if he wouldn’t help her since his big boss had been involved?

“How do you know?” he asked again.

“I overheard it”—her words broke, admitting the truth— “at the minister’s house.” She sniffled loudly. “Boyle was there.”

“Feck. Get over here ASAP.”

Her heart sank, turning her stomach sour. Shushing her mind to the futility of the questions as to what he’d do to help her, she drove, feeling safer.

Chapter Five

On the drive to Declan’s home, the events of the afternoon had shifted and grown in Moira’s mind until paranoia had rooted its ugly self in her senses. She’d lost all track of the fact she’d only overheard something—probably out of context.

By the time she’d parked, that paranoia—which had her constantly checking the rearview mirror for a tail—had morphed into anger and outrage at the audacity of the threat. Nay, fear remained for her brother, but the thought of Boyle made her blood boil. Boyle and boil. Ha. If only she could actually laugh at it.

Her brother opened her car door before she could, and she launched herself out of the vehicle and at his chest. She allowed him to take control of everything. To her horror, a sob escaped when she secured herself in his arms. How could she be crying when she was so angry?

In a low, loving voice, he murmured, “Shh, mydeirfiúr.I’ve got you.”

Declan calling her “sister” in Gaelic brought back all the times he’d been her protector growing up. Whether it had been a skinned knee or, apparently, a death threat against him, his arms always held the key to holding her together. This situation wasn’t fair.

Time passed slowly before she collected herself enough to function. Stifling the flow of tears, she searched his eyes through her watery ones and whispered on a broken note, “I don’t want you to die.”

Always prepared, he handed her a tissue, before leading her into his home. The place where the two of them had grown up in a loving family. The home that now held two additional people in it.

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