Page 37 of The Chief's Captive

"Oh, you haven't heard? I'm hunting someone… Seems like everyone's hunting lately." Eamon gives me another nudge and waves his gun at me, directing me away from the door. "I'm sure your brothers are being entertained out on the patio by now. Let's have a chat."

The muscle, some man I have never seen before, brings my armchair out and sets it in front of Eamon. He glares at me as if I'm supposed to sit down, but I never take a fight sitting down. I turn around slowly and lower my hands, facing Eamon head on. If he wants to kill me, he's going to have to look me in the eye to do it.

Eamon doesn't, though. He hands his weapon to his buddy and balls up his fist. Then he lets one blow after another fly. A few of them make me stumble backward, but if I retaliate, I'm sure I'll see the ugly end of his gun. When he plants a hard uppercut into my gut, I double over and lean on the chair for support to catch my breath, and he waits.

"You know, Ronan, if you would've just let me take the lead, none of this would've happened." He brings his knee up hard, but I turn my face away, catching his blow on my shoulder. I stumble backward and clench my jaw, ready to pounce, but the glint of steel out of the corner of my eye reminds me to bide my time.

"If I'd have let you lead, half the city would be on fire right now." I glare at him and reach up and wipe blood from my lip. Every drop of my blood that he spills will be a pint of his that stains my floor.

"Benny had it coming, Ro…" He laughs and takes another swing at me, and I grab his wrist and twist it, shoving him backward.The fact that he can laugh so cruelly about murdering our cousin makes me sick.

"Benny was your blood, Eamon. You deserve the pit of hell for that." His muscle strikes me on the head with the gun, and I drop to my knees, loosing Eamon's hand. My knees hit the ground hard, and I grunt as Eamon donkey kicks my ribs, but I don't fall over. I can't let him get me lying down. I force myself back up, and he shoves me so hard into the wall I hear the drywall snap.

"Benny refused to listen to me, and he paid the consequence of that action." Eamon spits on my chest and holds his hand out to his buddy, who places the gun in his palm. "And when your blood is spilled on this wall, your brothers are going to know I'm the true leader. They'll have no choice. Our fathers laid it out for them."

There is no such line of succession anywhere in written record, but I have no doubt he has some fake documentation for it. He'll do anything to get what he wants. My eyes flick around the room as Eamon takes a step backward and raises his weapon. With only one gun between the two of them and my gun lost under the bed somewhere, this fight is growing a little more fair.

"They will fight you to the death," I argue, wondering where Maeve is. What has he done with her?

"And they'll die traitors." His gun presses against my chest and he smirks. "And I'll have the heir all to myself."

The hair on the back of my neck stands on end and I squint at him. "What are you saying?" I swallow the knot in my throat and clench my jaw. Eamon is a lot of things, but foolish isn't one of them. If he's baiting me, it's for a reason.

"Oh, you can't expect me to think you have no clue?" He offers a sardonically skeptical look and scoffs. Then says over his shoulder, "Bring her out."

The instant he uses that pronoun, I know he's talking about Maeve. I haven't seen her since we walked in and I need to know she's safe. My blood thrums past my eardrums, deafening the sounds of shouting and gunfire around back. The faint din of sirens in the distance announces the garda, and I only have minutes to finish this.

But the hulking asshole who cut my hands to hell with a smashed lamp walks over to my closet. He opens the door, and I see Maeve immediately. She's on her knees, hands tied behind her back, a white cloth lashed around her mouth to prevent her from making noise. I lean forward to go to her, and Eamon pushes the gun into my chest hard.

"Back off or you're dead," he growls, and I lean back. She's alive, at least, and that's what matters. But now the stakes are higher. I have to take out two men by myself and fight a loaded weapon while protecting her. My mind races with thoughts, trying to make a plan.

"Tell him, sweetheart," Eamon urges, and the man with the muscle grabs her by the hair and drags her out. She screams and kicks, and I feel like something inside me is going to explode if he lays one fucking finger on her.

When he rips the gag off her mouth, she sobs. "Ronan… please…."

"I'm here. It's going to be okay," I tell her, but in the back of my mind I don’t know if it is. I'm outnumbered.

"Tell him now. Tell him why Butcher is dead. Tell him your little secret." Eamon isn't stupid enough to turn the gun on her, so he has his goon threaten her. The man wraps his hand around her neck, and he can almost close his fingers entirely. He's massive, and she seems so small and frail right now.

"Ronan, I’m pregnant. They want to kill our baby… please." She sobs hard, and then her sobs are choked off as the man grips her neck harder, stopping her from breathing. She can't fight him or stop him.

She's pregnant? With my baby? And she never told me… And now it all makes sense. It's why Eamon killed the doctor, to keep him from telling me so he could plan this. He's going to kill her and he's going to make me watch.

26

MAEVE

Isit in the closet on my knees, leaning back against the wall. I hear them. They're out there, the man who calls himself Eamon and a much larger man whom Eamon calls Badger. Tears streak my cheeks as I think of how they're using me as bait to make Ronan come to them. I'm in this closet hidden and gagged so I can't make noise to alert him to the danger, and when he comes for me, they will kill him.

Then they'll kill me.

Struggling against the rope they have tied around my wrists, I whimper and strain. There's nothing in this closet that can help me out. I don't even know what the point of struggling to get my hands free is. My logical mind knows even with my hands free, I can't fight them, but I still wrestle to get loose.

When I hear fighting erupt again, I cower, sinking to the back of the closet where I feel safer. I'm not an idiot. I know any bullet could tear right through the flimsy closet door and hit me, but somehow, the added distance from the door makes me feel safer.

Gunshots ring out, and I wish I could press my hands against my ears as I shake in fear. Sobs escape my throat, but they’re muffled by the gag. I feel the vibrations from the gunshots even through the closet door. Tears leak down my cheeks as my body trembles. I want to scream for Ronan, but I know they’ll kill me if I do.

I hear more fighting and it sounds like it's getting closer. There's more gunshots, peppering the air with death. I squeeze my eyes shut and rock back and forth on the hardwood floor of the closet. My stomach churns with dread, wishing for this to be over. Wishing Ronan would just come and get me, just end this nightmare that has been my life for the past few months.

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