Page 42 of The Devil's Price

"You know the Doyles?" My eyes search his trembling features. Men like me have come into this place and terrorized him before. It's obvious by his reaction.

"Yes, and I cannot help you, so please leave." He's backing away now, so I pull my gun and point it at him. I don't care that there are several people here enjoying their sushi and noodles. I'll gun him down if he doesn't start talking.

Ronan, on the other hand, has more sense about him right now. He presses one finger to the muzzle of my gun and lowers it, and the man stops backing up.

"Sir, we are looking for our friend. A pregnant woman, pretty, long legs… have you seen her? We believe Mr. Doyle has taken her."

The man shakes his head and repeats for the third time. "I can't help you, sir." His eyes flick around his dining room and he smiles a very strained smile. "Perhaps next door." His slight nod, accompanied by the way his eyes are shifting, tells me that's the most help we'll get. Next door must be some code for someone else in this strip mall knowing something.

I glance at Ro and he scowls, but we retreat. If that man is worried about what we'll do, I imagine he's terrified of what Doyle would do. He's probably already calling Doyle's men to warn them we're coming, which means time is ticking now.

"What the feck was that about?" Lochlan asks, and Ronan rubs the back of his neck as we walk.

"Doyle has these people scared shitless." Ronan leads the way into the next shop, an old used electronics store where everything is covered in dust.

I walk past the rows of old gaming consoles, broken coffee machines, and hand-held devices to the counter where a stumpy old man with no hair and a cigar hanging out of his mouth sits reading a magazine. He doesn’t even look up at us as he approaches. Not until I point my gun at him. I'm done playing nice guy. I need answers.

"Listen, buddy, I paid up already. Tell Cormac to get fucked." His eyes only flick up to meet mine briefly before he looks back at his magazine to ignore me.

"I'm not here for Cormac. I'm here to get answers. Where is Cormac? Does he have a safe house? A place he does business?" The tension in my chest is an over-tuned piano string ready to snap. I can't take much more of this. It's been almost an hour since they took her and there's no telling what hell she's being put through.

The man folds his magazine shut and glowers at me as he takes his cigar from his mouth and points at the door. "Well, I don't answer to you. I have a deal with Doyle, and if you're lookin' for him, you're not my friend. So get outta here."

Ronan can't move fast enough. I use the butt of my gun to smash the man on the head, and he drops his cigar to the ground, wincing and covering the red lump as it begins to swell up.

"Tell me where the feck to find him," I order, and Ronan shoves me back. Then he stamps out the cigar on the ground and grabs the man's tie.

"I swear, buddy, I can't help you. If I tell you where that bastard lives, he'll come kill my family." The man is a blubbering fool, straight from badass to yellow-bellied, and Ronan has him by the throat.

"So you know where he lives?" Ro asks, and the man shakes his head. "If you're lying and I find out, I'll come kill you myself." He pulls his own weapon and puts it right into the man's mouth, shoving it in so far he can't even speak, though he tries.

"What's that?" I ask, and I feel Lochlan grab my shoulder and pull me back.

"Ronan," Loch cautions. We don't need a scene here to alert the Doyles of what's coming their way. What we need is to get the information and get out of here. But that doesn’t stop me from wanting to bust this man's ass.

"Tell me where he is, now, and I'll let you live," Ronan says, removing the gun from his mouth, and the man starts singing like a canary.

"Downing street. Big blue house on a corner with some rock garden out front. Please, Mister, I'm just tryin' to do my job here." Before he can finish what he's saying, I whack him in the head again. This time, the blow is hard enough to knock him out. He crumples to the ground under his own body weight and lies there like a lump of coal.

Now that we know where to go, we don't lose any time. I race back to the car, and Ronan and Lochlan are on my heels. Without knowing what we're getting into, this could be risky, so Loch calls for backup. Declan, Connor, and a dozen other men will meet us there, and this war is about to get very violent. I can taste the blood in the air already.

31

SIOBHAN

It's been a long time, hours maybe. My wrist is growing chafed from the friction caused by this handcuff rubbing my skin. It's growing dark outside now, sun setting over the city while I waste away in this stinking room chained to the table. If Doyle thinks this is going to intimidate me into doing his bidding, he's wrong.

I hear noise outside the house from time to time, children's laughter, shouts of parents calling them inside. I tried shouting, but it earned me a hard smack and another threat, so now I sit in silence waiting for the inevitable. Either Finn comes to save me or these eejits come back to threaten me more, possibly kill me.

A lot of things go through my mind, but mostly, I think of how many warnings I had that this situation would be deadly, starting with Trevor. Why did I ever think I could take on the different factions of the Irish Mafia and live to tell about it? Trevor was strong, much stronger than me, and they murdered him in cold blood. Why not me too? And why didn't I listen to Liam's warnings?

I should've known something horrible would happen. If the fear I had niggling at me for weeks before the trial started wasn't a big enough red flag, I should've recused myself the instant I learned Callahan was dirty. I should've stepped away when I had the chance, and now I'm here, praying to God that I don't die.

The din of neighborhood traffic is interrupted by the squealing of tires and shouts of angry men. I don’t know what's going on, but in my mind I picture Hagen Doyle figuring out that his father has me held captive here. He's come to silence me, probably force me to cough up evidence I don't have. McVeigh has it all. In fact, he'll be the one probably trying the case when it goes to court. I'm done with this life. I can't go after these people. They scare me.

But then, I hear something familiar. The warmth of a baritone I recognize. It isn't Hagen Doyle at all. It's Finn. He's with someone else, and there is shouting. I know the tone of his voice, though I've only heard him this angry once or twice.

I listen carefully for a second, hoping to hear what is being said in all the shouting, but then gunshots break out and I'm terrified.

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