Page 17 of The Enforcer's Redemption

"Help," I whimper under my breath, but there is no help. No one is coming. I'm alone out here with men who are hunting me. I know they came for me, not him. I know this is the O’Reilly crew here to clean up the mess I made. Declan says they want me dead. They’ll never take me alive, and I have to fight for my life—for my father's life.

I hear shouting too, Declan and his driver, male voices I don't know. They're speaking in Gaeilge, which I barely know. But I pick up certain words like "slaughter" and "debt". It only confirms they’re here for me as I wriggle out of the mangled wreckage and scramble to the side of the car. The sounds are louder out here, more terrifying.

My body trembles as I grip the weapon, now better able to hear and see what's going on. From my vantage point, I see two SUVs with all four doors open. Eight men at least, maybe ten or more. But I see a few bodies on the ground, men bleeding and writhing, a few as still as death. Declan really is fighting for me, and for himself too. I brought this on him, and now guilt consumes me for what I've done. I don't want him to die.

"Hand her over, O'Rourke, and we won't kill you." The angry voice is barely distinguishable as he switches from Gaeilge to English and back, slurring insults.

"Feck off to hell," Declan screams, and more gunfire erupts. When it silences, I hear the sound of men grunting and tussling.

In the distance, the tree line, I see a path into the woods. It looks like salvation, but it's at least a hundred meters there. I'd be completely exposed, and I don't know what's on the other side,how far the woods go. My feet seem untrustworthy right at this moment. I'm not sure I can even walk, let alone run, not when men are shooting at me.

My hands continue to shake as I slowly rise up and peer over the belly of the car. Declan is locked in a fistfight with someone, a man with an angry tattoo on the left side of his face, and his driver is prone on the ground. Two men, glowering with jade-colored eyes, stalk toward me.

"Don't let them take you," Declan told me. "Just shoot and shoot and shoot."

A tiny whimper rises to the surface, but I fight it back. I won't let them take me. I can't. They'll kill me. They've seen that I'm here and they are coming, and I know what it means.

Shooting to my feet, I aim the gun at one of the men and start shooting. The gun bounces in my grip, missing him with the first shot, but I fire again and again. The bullets tear through his chest, hitting center mass, and my shaking arms only barely hold the gun steady. I turn to the second man, who is now in a dead sprint, only a few strides toward me, and I shoot him once, but it only grazes his side. The impending doom I feel as the gun clicks but no more rounds discharge almost cripples me. I turn to run.

Two strides…

Three…

And he's on me, tackling me to the ground with such force it knocks the air from my lungs. I screech and roll, attempting to fight him off, but his hand comes down on my face hard, smacking me.

"Stop it! No! Let me go!" I fight, clawing and swinging my arms, but he's stronger than me, double my size. He smacks me again and then grabs me by the hair and stands up, dragging me along with him.

"Lookie what I found," he announces proudly. My knees scrape the pavement as he moves, and I cling to his leg in an attempt to stop some of the pain. My teeth sink into his pants leg, finding his meaty calf and biting down hard. He yelps and kicks me, sending me flailing and rolling across the pavement until my body slams into something hard. It's Declan, on his knees, a gun to his head.

"Damn cunt," the man curses, and I scramble away from him, clinging to Declan. He's stiff and stoic, rigid. Not moving. His chin is high and his chest heaves.

"I'm sorry," he says softly. The man with the gun to his head nudges him.

"Thought you could keep the princess here safe, did ye?" The man is ugly, beady, inky eyes and a nasty scar in his right eyebrow. I hate him instantly, and it makes me want to plead for Declan's life.

"He did nothing. Please, just take me. I'm what you want." My words come out choked. I'm still dizzy, now almost desperate for the pain to consume me. My vision is dim. I probably took a knock to the head.

"Oh, believe me, we'll take you," one of them says while grabbing his dick through his pants. They both chuckle, and I feel Declan tense further. I'm so in tune with him now, so one with him that all I can sense is how angry he is, how focused he is on protecting me. His hand laces around my wrist and he grips it.

"You want to hurt someone, hurt me. Leave her out of this. She’s learned her lesson and she's going straight." The way his body rumbles as he speaks moves me. I wrap my arms around him and shake. On his stomach, I feel moisture, and I look down. A crimson blossom there tells me he's been injured too—the car or a knife, maybe a bullet. It sickens me. I feel nausea making my stomach roil as much as the spinning in my head.

"That's not how this works. Sebastian will love to see both of your heads on a platter. You should’ve known better than to protect her, Declan." The man with the gun nudges his head again, and I wince.

"Stop it! Leave him alone," I plead. Angry, hot tears threaten me, but I force them back. I'm not a baby. I'm not a weak, defenseless woman. "Just take me," I tell them, standing up, but Declan grips my wrist harder and I wobble.

"A lot of people will pay for your sins, Princess." There it is again, that name he calls me. The one so many people have called me. I hate it. I'm not a fucking pawn in someone's hellish nightmare of a game they're playing.

"Yeah, well I wouldn’t piss on you if you were afire," I tell him harshly and wince when he draws his hand back as if to strike me, but the blow never comes. The other man stays his arm. Instead, he reaches again for his groin and this time goes to undo his belt.

"What if we just have our way right here on the street… right in front of your betrothed? You want to insult me again, bitch?" I shudder just thinking of that, of his hands on me the way Declan's hands were just on me. I realize then that I don’t want any other man's hands on me ever. Never again. Only Declan's.

"Screw you… Fecking bastards."

He reaches for me again, tearing me away from Declan's grasp. He's defenseless. He can't do anything. With a gun to his head, if he moves, they'll kill him and then me. He has no choice but to wait, and I'm not going to wait around to see what they do. I come out swinging, launching myself into his chest and pounding his sides.

When he shoves me back, I fall to the ground hard, but just in time. A new rain of bullets falls, this time from a few cars approaching on the horizon. I curl into a ball and cover my head, whimpering, until I feel warmth and weight cover me.

"I'm here. Stay down. Stay still… Ronan is here," Declan says, his words soothing me.

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