Page 55 of The Secrets We Share

“What business do you have with her?”

“It’s personal, family business.”

An unexpected derisive snort answers me. “There’s nothing here for you, girl. Best be on your way. And a word of advice: don’t come snooping around here again. The building manager doesn’t appreciate it.”

With that, the door slams in our faces. “Well...”

“Well, indeed.” Harkin parrots, grabbing my arm and pulling me away from the woman’s door. “Let’s go,” he says, ushering us back toward the stairs.

I whirl around to face him, stopping us on the landing. “But she.”

His head shakes, but he doesn’t say anything. His eyes quickly scan to the wall across from us. At the top, butted up against the ceiling, is a dome camera. The red light blinks in time with my racing heart.

I get it. Someone’s watching, and whatever that woman said, it set off his protective instincts. Our feet thud against the stairs as we rush from the third floor back to the entrance door of the building. I shove the front door open, turning back to find out whatever it is that Harkin picked up on. But a rough, firm grip grabs both of my arms, hauling me out onto the sidewalk faster than I can process what’s happening.

Harkin’s quick to draw his gun from his waistband, but when he lifts it, clicking the safety off, it’s not his voice that comes out with a threat. A tall-broad man with a balding head steps out from the shadows of the front door. A similar gun pointed at the back of Harkin’s head.

“I'd drop that if I were you. I don’t mind leaving you here bleeding out. It’s her the boss wants to see.”

“Fucking hell,” I scream. “Unhand me, you piece of shit, good for nothing dog. I’m going to kill my father for this.”

“Well, don’t you have a mouth on you. I suppose I can’t be all too surprised. But your father…” He pauses, spitting on the ground in disgust. “Has nothing to do with this. Let’s go, princess.”

I stop fighting, my body running cold as his words settle in. “He’s coming with me,” I snap. I’m not sure how much sway I have with these men, but I can either go with them quietly or fight them at every turn.

“Whatever the princess wants.” It’s then I notice the Irish accent peeking through. It’s not as thick as the woman’s upstairs. It’s soft, as if he picked it up from being around native speakers or left the country too long ago for it to keep its hold.

The man or men, I can’t tell how many there are, with my eyes locked on Harkin’s, soften the grips on my arms, shoving me forward into Harkin’s open embrace. He tucks me into his side after placing his gun away.

“Don’t say anything,” he whispers in my ear.

His tone isn’t worried. There’s not a trace of concern for the gun still trained on the back of his head. They know he’s my weak spot. That I’ll cooperate as long as he’s safe by my side. After all my experiences with Dom, that tells me they’re under direct orders to leave me unharmed. It settles my hackles slightly.

In the middle of the day, with the sun high in the sky, no one stops or even questions two people getting shoved in the back of a white van with a plumbing company name on the side. He pushes us to the dirty floor, between metal shelves filled with plumbing supplies. It makes me wonder if they double as blue-collar men or if it’s solely to keep up the act should they get pulled over.

Two men climb into the front seats, and another follows us into the back. He sits against the grated door between us and the driver. His gun never leaves my sight, but it’s no longer poisedto shoot at a moment’s notice. Harkin scoots me closer to the rear exit, putting himself between me and whoever these guys are. My guess is we’re heading right for the man we’ve been searching for.

Harkin’s hand grazes the inside of my upper arm. I don’t think anything of it until he pauses and retraces his path. His fingers press against the implant. Right, continuously being tracked. James is undoubtedly two cars back, following us to a place my grandfather probably thinks is impenetrable.

TWENTY-FIVE

HARKIN

Game of Survival - Ruelle

After that old woman’s warning, I knew we had to get out of there. We’d made a show of ourselves by going door-to-door, flashing that photo to every resident. Someone knew precisely whose building they lived in and where Keira’s mother was. We’d been spotted and sold out before reaching the third floor. I’d wanted to get out of there before we ended up in this spot. But my plan to wait and watch who arrived didn’t pan out.

I mindlessly trace my fingers against Keira’s leg to keep from cutting this trip short. The clanking of loose tools on the shelves around us keeps my eyes scanning, worried we’ll be taken out by a metal wrench before we get to wherever we’re going. It also distracts me from keeping track of each turn we make. Something unnecessary with the trackers, but my brain refuses to leave everything up to technology, no matter how good I know it is.

Baldie in the front seat taps on the metal door, and the bozo in front of me reaches into his pocket, pulling out two handkerchiefs. He unceremoniously throws them both in my lap before barking out a command to put them on.

“Fuck you. I’m not putting shit on,” Keira sasses from behind me.

The guy looks like he wants to jolt from his seat to strangle her.Trust me, buddy, I know the feeling well.

“Handle it. We’re here,” the driver calls out as the van starts to slow.

Our buddy in the back shifts, trying to balance in the moving vehicle. Their mistake was not taking the time to restrain us. Now, he’s got zero chance of getting me to put on the blindfold, let alone getting near enough to Keira to even touch her.

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