Page 82 of The Chief
“Keir, watch?—”
There was a creak of the floorboard directly behind me. I spun, but not fast enough to miss the swing of a bat coming directly at my head. At the last second, I threw up the hand holding my phone. The beam of light caught Rían’s savage snarl as he moved, and the bat glanced off the side of my hand, causing some of my small bones to break.
My phone clattered to the floor, bouncing and landing at an odd angle against the wall. The flashlight illuminated enough of the room for me to see that Rían had dumped the bat and now came toward me with his fists raised. The bastard probably had at least twenty pounds on me, but I never backed down from a fight even if someone was twice my size.
Squaring up, we traded blows. His fists felt like they were covered in concrete and just as heavy. He got some good shots to my face while I concentrated on his body, jabbing at his kidneys when I could. At least with my smaller stature, I had speed on him and managed to duck around some of his heavier strikes.
Molly’s sobs created a backing track as I slammed my left fist into Rían’s face. The power wasn’t there, but it was enough of a break for me to pull my gun. Then Rían tackled me, forcing us to the floor with a grunt, and knocking it from my grip.
Fighting this fucking guy was like wrestling with a rhino. Stretching my fingers, I searched for the gun, my fingertips brushing against the grip. Rían grabbed my head in his meatyhands and slammed it into the boards. My brain felt as if it was rattling around in my skull, and a concussion was almost a guarantee at this point.
“Keir!” Molly shouted, her voice strained.
Rían continued to pound my head into the floor, bells ringing in my ears with each strike. His bulk pinned me too effectively to the floor, so my only way out of this mess was to shoot the fucker. Trying to coordinate my thoughts and body, I reached out once more, my fingers making contact with the grip of the gun, but not enough to fully grasp it.
“Just hold on,” Molly whimpered. “Just hold on. I’m coming.”
Rían was a grunting, sweating mess above me. He was doing his best to knock me out, or fucking kill me, who knew which. He lifted my head for another blow when he suddenly released me, letting out an inhuman howl of pain. His body jackknifed off me, and I rolled away, my head fucking swimming and my ears buzzing.
Turning, I tried to get my eyes to focus on why Rían had screamed. Blinking to make sure I was seeing things right, I saw Molly crouched in front of my prone body, a knife held in front of her like she would fight the fucking world for me.
“Jynx.”
Rían swiped at the blade in her hand with his meaty fist and knocking it to the ground. One huge paw wrapped around her throat and lifted her from the ground.
As Molly’s legs kicked out, swinging in the air, the blinding rage that lived inside my body came to life. Shades of red filled my vision as I rose to my feet. Brute strength wasn’t the solution here. Some motherfucking firepower was.
Dizzy and staggering to my feet, I grabbed the gun from the floor and brought it up level with Rían’s head. My hand waved wildly as I tried to track the bastard. Fuck, I was seeing double.
Double Rían.
Double Molly thrashing against his hold.
If I accidentally hit Molly, I would never forgive myself. Squeezing my eyes shut, I took in a deep breath and opened my eyes once more. The double vision had lessened enough that I could discern where the real Rían was. I focused on him, the muzzle of the gun tracking him for a moment, before I pulled the trigger.
Blood sprayed.
Molly screamed.
Rían collapsed onto the floor with a boneless thud. My gaze rose to Molly. Blood coated her neck and chest—too much blood—and my heart seized.
“Are you hurt? Did Ihurtyou?” I demanded. My pulse silently begged—say no, say no, say no.
“No.” She held the side of her head with a wince. “But my head hurts,” she muttered.
Relief flooded me, but I couldn’t focus on my good luck just yet. Swiping my phone from the ground, I muttered, “Let’s get out of here.” Taking her by the elbow, I wrapped an arm around her shoulder as I pushed the gun into the back of my pants and led her from the living room. We were almost at the front door when the sound of a magazine being slid into its housing gave me pause. I turned and found Owen O’Mahony with his gun leveled at my head.
“Always the fucking hero, Flanagan,” he muttered. “But you have something of mine.” Those dead eyes of his darted to Molly, who seemed to shrink away from his attention.
“You can’t have her.”
“I saw her first,” he seethed, the muzzle of the gun drawing closer to my head. “Let her go and I might let you live.”
“Did daddy sanction this little kidnapping plot?” I didn’t have the energy for this shit. My head was pounding, and I didn’twant to think about the trauma Molly must’ve gone through. I was in no hurry to add to it.
“Shut the fuck up,” he snarled, baring his teeth. “You’re the one with a gun to their head. So you’ll do what I tell you to do.”
“You know I can’t do that, Owen.”
