Page 6 of Dublin Beast

Kieran grins. “I thought I’d surprise you.”

Lenny glares, but steps back, waving us in.

The inside of his den is cluttered with wires, computer monitors, and the kind of equipment that gets you ten to life if you don’t have government clearance.

A wall of screens flickers with CCTV footage—busy London streets, car parks, and an overhead view of Gatwick’s private terminal.

Jackpot.

Lenny drops into a chair and cracks his knuckles. “Let’s make this quick. I’ve got other customers, and don’t fancy being caught helping a bunch of Paddy gangsters again. All it did was piss off the cops and make my life difficult last time.”

Kieran drapes an arm over Lenny’s chair, all easy charm. “You still crying over that? Come on, mate. What’s a little treason between friends?”

Lenny grumbles, but his fingers still fly across the keyboard. “What are we looking for?”

I step closer. “A woman. All the curves. Red hair. She was escorted through Gatwick in protective custody. Private plane. Here’s the date and time.”

I hand him the slip of paper Finny gave me with the details as closely as he could figure.

His fingers click over the keys. It takes a few minutes, but soon enough he’s pulling up a zoomed-in, high-res feed of a black sedan rolling through a private hangar gate.

Kieran taps the screen. “That’s our target.”

Lenny exhales through his nose. “Wow. She had a full convoy of unmarked vehicles. That’s heavy security. What did she do?”

“She killed my Da, flipped on both the Quinns and the McGuires, and signed an immunity deal to spill her fucking guts to take us down.”

Logan whistles. “Fucking hell. All that from such a pretty package.”

I grunt. “She’s a fucking viper in four-inch heels.”

Logan folds his arms and tilts his head at the monitor. “And she’s royally fucking over two major families. If the assholes running the task force have any sense at all, they’ll be expecting trouble.”

I study the screen, my pulse steady but charged. She’s here. In this city. Breathing, walking, thinking she’s safe.

She isn’t.

“The lead asshole running the witch hunt is dead. The task force will be in a bit of a scramble while that tragic tale plays out and the next in line steps up.”

Kieran leans forward and points to the screen. “What we need to do is track down Siobhan while they’re regrouping. Where did they take her, Lenny? Where did they stash the bitch?”

Lenny clicks to another screen, showing a different angle of the convoy moving through traffic. “They took her north. If they were transferring her to a government safe house, she won’t be in central London.”

Kieran cracks his knuckles. “So where is she?”

Lenny hums, pulling up more street feeds. “Well, that’s where things get tricky. See this?” He points to a timestamp on the footage. “I had them on traffic cams for the first forty minutes. Then—” He clicks, showing an empty road where the cars should have appeared next.

“They vanished,” Logan mutters.

Lenny nods. “Your target is in deep cover. No tracking, no tail. It seems they’re operating under full blackout conditions.”

Kieran scratches his jaw. “Which means what?”

I roll my muscled shoulders, the familiar weight of violence settling into my bones. “It means we’ve got a hunt on our hands.”

I glare at the last grainy image of Siobhan Daley before she disappeared.

She can run.

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