Page 39 of Dublin Brute

Is everyone on this block at the fight?

The streets are much too quiet, and it feels like a trap. Great, now I sound as paranoid as my father. But one good thing about my father being paranoid about my safety and always expecting the worst for me is that I’ve run through the ‘what to do’ drills a bazillion times.

“Fine. Fuck it.” Despite being thoroughly disillusioned by Brendan, I need to double back to the gym. There are a lot of people there and I can get help. I hurry toward the next corner, jogging on the balls of my feet to avoid breaking my neck withthese heels. The cobblestone sidewalks of Ireland will be the death of me if I panic and don’t play this smart.

Jordan ‘the Warden’ Kelly didn’t raise a fool and even though I’m terrified, I focus on each hurried step. When I get to the next corner, I turn left and risk a look backward.

He’s getting closer.

The shadowy figure has quickened his stride, and the panic of survival grips me like a clutched fist around my throat. I fight to pull oxygen into my airway, the world starting to spin. The moment I’m around the corner and out of his sight, I break into an all-out run.

“Help!”

My scream sounds weak even to my own ears—an empty plea echoing off the brick walls. This is the back of the other street and even more deserted.

No one will hear me.

Each labored breath becomes thinner as I sprint past darkened doorways that mock me with their shadowed stillness. My mind races through scenarios. If he catches me, I’ll be mugged at best—raped or killed at worst.

Could I fight him off? Does he have a weapon? If he pulls out a knife or a gun….

“Help!”I shout again, my breath thready as I gasp for air.

I focus all my energy on the upcoming street. One more left and I’ll be headed back to the street where the charity event is still in progress. I don’t need to glance back because the heavy footfalls of my stalker can’t be over twenty feet behind me and gaining. His footsteps thunder—too close—and fear spikes through every fiber of my being.

“Help!”The primal cry escapes my lips as adrenaline burns wildly in me. My legs are rubbery and I’m fighting not to let my knees buckle beneath me.

I push to get around the corner, heart hammering against ribs that feel ready to crack under pressure. My breath echoes loudly as reality hits.

I’m not going to make it…

Brendan

I burst through the side door of the gym, the adrenaline from my match still coursing through my veins like nitrous. I sprint through the darkness of the side lot and come out on the street, turning left and beating feet.

Someone calls my name, but I don’t stop. The frosty night air hits the sweat on my bare chest and sends a chill down my spine. The pounding of my boots to pavement echoes off the brick buildings, but it’s nothing compared to the pounding of my heart.

I need to find her. I need to explain that I’m more than my last name.

The echoed roar of the cheering crowd fades as I spot Nora rushing around the corner, way down the block.

Someone is tailing her.

A man in black has come out of a shadowed stoop and is homing in on her. Fuck that. I know a predator when I see one.

He’shuntingher.

Violent fury burns hot, dousing every protective instinct I possess in kerosine and then tossing a flame to it, lighting things up.

There’s no sense in chasing them along the street. They’re too far ahead of me and by the time I get up to that corner, they’ll be gone. Instead, I change course and cut through the back parkinglot of an office building, skirting around the parking toll booth and hurdling over boxwoods like a fucking Olympic athlete.

“Help!”

Her cry comes from off to my right and I adjust my course to intercept. “I’m coming, angel. Just hang on.”

Pumping my arms, I give it all I’ve got, knowing Nora needs me. Never have I felt so helpless and terrified. I’m Brendan-Fucking-Quinn and anyone with half a brain fears me. If that motherfucker intends Nora harm…

Blood will flow for this.

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