Page 42 of One Kill

“J, I’ll…” I don’t know how it fucking happens but I’m pinned to the wall with her hand at my throat and her teeth bared like a fucking crazed animal. If it weren’t for the current situation, I’d stop and analyze why this position has me hard as a fucking rock.

“Don’t. Now isn’t the time to playGangs of New York. We’re going to find Hallie and we’re going to get to the bottom of this fucking mess, but I need this information and I need it right fucking now, Murph.Now.“ Her words, combined with her aggressive approach, clear the haze of fog just enough for me to remember what’s most important.

Hallie.

My fingers wrap around her wrist, squeezing for her to let go. Her hold was more of a warning than actual intent on hurting me but still, I need to be able to speak.

“She was at the downtown theater with Bridget. Her aunt Ashley was there sitting with them. About the middle of the movie, Hallie goes to the bathroom and doesn’t come back.” Those last words stay stuck in my throat, making me choke on them. “Movie started at seven so around eight something.”

J’s not even looking at me, she’s texting every word I say to her so when I finish, she looks up at me, tenderness swimming in her eyes for the first time since I fed her lasagna.

“I have the best—the absolute best—on this.” Then she does the most unpredictable thing she’s ever done around me. She kisses the fear right out of me and, for a fraction of a second, I believe her. I believe without a doubt that she’s going to do every fucking thing to find our daughter.

Pulling away, I cup her cheeks in my palms, my face close enough to kiss her again.

“I’m meeting Ry downtown. He said the police don’t need to get involved, only the guys they’ve got on payroll.”

J snorts and shakes her head. “Of fucking course,” is her only answer as she pulls away from my hold and grabs her keys from the pocket of her leather jacket.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” We’re outside now, each walking fast to our own trucks when she turns, walking backward with her palms in the air like I’m the dumbest person in the fucking world.

“Doesn’t take a genius to figure out who shot at me, Murphy!” Without giving me time to respond, she turns back around and jumps into her truck, pulling out with screeching tires and a fully revved engine.

I do the same but head in the opposite direction.

The whole ride over I’ve got a million things running through my mind. I’m shaking with adrenaline, my hands white with the steel grip I’ve got on the wheel and my heart breaking with every minute I don’t get a call saying she’s safe. All a big misunderstanding.

I park in front of a fire hydrant, not giving two shits if my truck is towed, yet knowing in the back of my mind that the last thing I need is to find myself without a fucking vehicle. Jumping out and slamming my door shut, I run up to Ry, who’s standing just outside the entrance of the theater. Next to him, Ashley has her arms around a sobbing Bridget, patting her back and fighting back her own tears.

To say Riley is frantic is an understatement. I can see it in the way his teeth are clenched and his nostrils are flaring that he passed the pissed off level quite a while ago. Hallie and Bridget are like sisters. They fight as much as they love but they always come back to each other. It doesn’t take a genius to understand that this happened on his watch—his sister being there was his idea—and he’s dripping in guilt.

“Any news?” I don’t bother saying hello. Who the fuck cares about being polite in times like these?

“We’re getting eyes on the cameras,” he tells me quickly in between screaming at whoever is on the other line.

“I’m so sorry, Uncle Murph. I’m so sorry.” Bridget launches herself at me, her arms wrapped around my waist, squeezing hard as she rests her cheek on my chest.

“Hey, hey. This is not your fault. Do you hear me?” I squeeze her back as her father continues threatening people’s lives on the phone. His growls and grunts reassure me. It’s my proof that J’s wrong. This wasn’t the Irish, no matter what she thinks. It can’t be. Ry is deep in the mob and he would never, never, hurt Hallie, and no one would do this without his knowing. It’s just not how it works… I don’t think.

“I should have gone to the bathroom with her.” Fuck. If anything happens to Hallie, Bridget will be destroyed… another victim of this senseless crime.

My eyes catch Riley’s when the screaming stops and I’m taken aback by the hardness I see in his gaze.

“What? What happened?” My grip on Bridget tightens, heart racing out of control once more just as three cops walk up to us. Now they’re all staring at me like I’m the one who kidnapped my own fucking daughter. “What? Just fucking spit it out!”

“What the fuck was Jordyn fucking O’Neill doing at your house, Murph?”

The man in front of me isn’t my best friend.

The man in front of me is the son of the head of the Irish mob.

He’s lethal, he’s pissed, and his venom is aimed straight at me.

Chapter Twenty

J

“Whothefuckdoyou think shot at me, Murphy?”

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