Page 73 of Crimson Tears

This is it. They are getting out of here.

A tension I didn’t even notice was there seems to unwind within me. I fought so hard to keep her safe, but now that it’s time and she is leaving, it feels like I can breathe just a fraction better.

Cillian puts his arm around me and walks me to the car. We get in, but before he can start the engine, I reach my hand out to stop him.

“Are you sure?” I ask.

He looks puzzled before he realizes what I’m asking. His other hand lies on top of our combined ones.

“Am I sure that I want you?”

I shake my head. “Are you sure you can be who my father expects you to be? He wants a trained mobster, a killer. Can you do that? Do you even want to?”

His eyes widen as a hand goes to his chest. I think this is it. This is the moment he realizes how fecked up my life is and he is going to go running, only to never come back.

“You mean, you don’t think I can kill someone?” The dramatics he throws into his voice are meant for someone of stage acting.

“I’m serious,” I say, pushing his shoulder.

He laughs but turns to me with seriousness in his gaze.

“Am I sure I can slit someone’s throat and watch the blood drain from their body? Am I certain that I can put a bullet between the eyes of an innocent just to placate a chess board we are not allowed to see? Do I wish for one second that I chose differently and that I can no longer handle the pressure of the Irish Reapers?”

He stares into my eyes for so long I start to shake in anticipation. I need to know.

“Nope, not sure at all. But I am absolutely, one hundred and fifty percent positive that I am with you until the very feckin’ end of it all.”

I bite my lip to keep from sobbing. He did think all of this through.

“Guess I should start calling you ‘Killer’ then, huh?” I joke, trying to break the tension.

“I’ll be your killer, Sweetheart. Just tell me where to point the gun and I’ll pull the trigger for you.”

My hand wraps behind his neck, fingers playing with the soft red hair that looks so much like mine. Then, I press our lips together. There is nothing I won’t do for him and he for me.

Cillian has a plan and I trust him.

Chapter 22

I still cannot believe I made it out of that underground bunker. To be fair, there were only five guards and they all went running to the cells when the power was cut. And the kid managed to kill one of them, so that was somewhat helpful.

However, I am now running through a field in the middle of nowhere. I have no idea if my tracker is working, but I can only hope that putting distance between the bunker and remembering where it is, will help our team find me.

My son and his family are more than capable. So I just need to get a signal and stay put. The only problem with that plan is that I have no idea when the signal goes through.

I scan the area, trees surround me on all sides, but I have been careful to ensure I stay headed to the north. That was a skill my father taught me. He insisted I learn survival skills.

As a child, I insisted it was silly to learn because I would always have my men around or a gun. I was naive to believe I would never be in a situation alone.

Thankfully, my father whipped my ass into shape. Literally and figuratively. I was an ornery little shit as a child, and deserved the fair share of beatings I received. In fact, some days I am thankful for them because they forced me to see what was right in front of me.

I keep going up what seems like a small mountain. Thankfully, my clothes are in good condition, even if I do need a shower. Or ten. My shoes are holding up well too, easily stepping on the brush to help me push forward. When I reach the top, I see a cell tower off in the distance. It appears to be a solid fifteen to twenty miles away.

While it is possible my signal gets there before I do, it also helps give me a landmark and encourages me forward. Which is a push I need because every fiber of my being is screaming that I go back to her.

While I could go back and take on each guard one by one with the full clip I have left, my intuition tells me Green will be waiting for just that. I cannot predict his movements, and he could have already called for backup.

With my eye on the tower, I decide to push on. Questions swirl in my brain about all that has happened in the past week or so. Everything feels as if it is changing, and I must admit, I am not a fan.

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