Page 89 of Between Dusk and Dawn

I cautiously peered outside, half expecting to see the usual presence of guards patrolling the grounds. To my astonishment, not a single figure stood watch. With trepidation, I continued down the hallway toward Walsh's primary office. The dimly lit corridor seemed to stretch endlessly, and each step I took echoed louder in the silence.

As I approached his office, the door was open, and my breath caught in my lungs when I realized he wasn't there either. Panic gnawed at the edges of my consciousness, and my mind raced with unsettling thoughts. This had to have been some terrible television show where someone would tell me I was being punked, because the solitude was deafening.

I entered Walsh's office, and my gaze fell upon the scattered papers on his usually impeccable desk. This room, reserved for important meetings, appeared disheveled and chaotic. The meticulously organized space now betrayed by signs of a disturbance.

Fixated on the scattered documents, I hesitated for a moment. Approaching the desk, I began sifting through the papers. Each document held a piece of the puzzle, yet the full picture eluded me.

I paused only to peer out the window as Fire's distressed neighing echoed through the quiet home. Then I noticed a paper face down on the desk. I didn't know what it was, but my hand hovered over it, as if it was beckoning me. Although it felt like an intense breach of security, I turned it over.

I paused, scanning it over and realizing it was a resume of sorts—the woman he was supposed to marry for his business, for the Mafia, or whatever weird traditions they had claimed.

Recognition dawned on me as I scrutinized the face on the paper. Walsh had shown me this once before, and the name or face triggered a sense of familiarity I couldn't immediately place. I racked my brain, attempting to pinpoint where I had seen this woman before.

In my mental search, a chilling realization struck me like a bolt of lightning. The woman in the photo before me was Cagen's younger sister. Panic coursed through my veins, freezing me in place. The implications were horrifying.

Holy shit.

Cagens’ sister was supposed to marry Walsh.

I wondered if he knew the connection. They had different last names, but I knew this was her. I had met her once before, and there was no mistaking it.

The gravity of the situation hit me as panic bubbled in my chest, but I needed to figure out what happened last night.

Holy Shit, I repeated over and over in my head while trying to focus on any clues of why or where they took him.

Walsh potentially had no idea this woman was Cagen’s sister. The only reason I knew was because I had been there to help Cagen move into Isles back when her sister was still in high school. Now, she had to be eighteen.

A sense of terror overwhelmed me as I grappled with the potential fallout from this revelation. The panic intensified, creating a suffocating atmosphere in the quiet house. I needed tofind him and address this before it spiraled out of control. Fire neighed again, and it dawned on me that the reason the guards weren’t patrolling was because the Irish mob must be here, too.

Chapter Thirty-Nine

My head hung low, blood dripping onto the floor as I sat tied to a chair next to a horse that was causing me to itch everywhere.

I clung to any hope that my old man would show up and catch me here with the Irish fucking mob pressing a gun to my throat. The only thing saving any ounce of sanity was that these idiots hadn't bothered to comb through the house. They found me in the barn, did a half-assed sweep of the property, and figured they'd dealt with all my guards at the front door.

I’d convinced them I was the lone occupant of the apartment above the barn, and the big house was a facade. Thank fuck my talent for lying hadn't deserted me. Maybe my sanity and brain were shot, but at least I could still spin a convincing tale.

"Why did you kill my fucking daughter?" The man in front of me seethed. He was a large redheaded guy, lanky and tall, but I recognized him as the head of the US division for the Irish mob. Truthfully, we’d always gotten along, as well as the Mafia could with the Irish, until the more recent years since this fucker took over.

"She was missing," I grumbled.

When I’d gotten the call from Enzo that someone breeched the property early this morning and was headed over to Rain’s house, I knew I was fucked. I had to somehow soothe my half-sleeping wife without alerting her that anyone was here. Thankful for my quick ability to think on my feet, I went to the barn to distract him when fucking Georgie grabbed me.

Part of me wondered if he knew I let him win the scuffle to tie me down. A few punches and bruises would obviously be the fallout, but knowing Enzo was coming back and going to mow this fucker down was the only thing keeping me calm. That and the fact I needed this all to be over before my muse woke up. I promised her a fucking Christmas and needed to deliver.

"Liar," Georgie growled, giving me another slap across the face, this time the cool metal gun cracked along my jawline as I tried not to wince.

Blood pooled at my feet. "Gotta try a little harder than that to break me." I sneered, baring my teeth at him.

Where the fuck was Enzo? It had been at least an hour with the way the light had shifted along the windows of the barn. This shit was getting old fast, and Ireallyneeded to get it over with before Madison woke.

"She was pronounced dead."

"There was never a body." I winced in pain. "Plus, you think somehow this is your time to avenge your daughter’s death after five fucking years?" I hissed back at him. The man, who was flanked by two taller ones, both with large Irish flags tattooed on their arms, stood behind where Fire was, with their arms crossed over their chests.

Amateurs. They should be on the alert at any time, hands on their weapons, pointed to shoot. Fucking dumbassess.

"I think you need to explain a little better why you are here," I huffed out. "Because without our trade routes, without ourweapons, and our secrecy, your entire organization is going to shit."

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