Page 89 of Stolen Rival
I tap my bodyguard on the shoulder. “Go and check what’s going on.”
Unclipping his seat belt, he climbs out of the car, unholsters his weapon, and ducks into the gatehouse. Seconds later, he reappears. “Sir, he’s out for the count.”
My world narrows, vision blurring. A single thought reverberates around my mind like a fucking pinball machine. Is Sorcha safe?
Both Liam and I launch out of the car, drawing our guns. “Is he breathing?”
“Yes, sir. Steady pulse.”
“Good. Stay with him.” I cock my head at Liam. “You go around the back. I’ll take the front.”
“If we’ve got company, they’ve already seen us coming.”
I swallow, my throat thick. God, please let her still be at lunch. “Yeah, I know. Go.”
Liam takes off running. I race to the front door. Taking a deep breath, I open it and peer through the gap. The house is dead silent, no signs of screaming or moaning, or orders being barked.
On the balls of my feet, I creep down the hallway toward the kitchen. The door’s closed. I twist the knob as quietly as I can and push it open. Maeve’s at the stove, and the smell of some kind of tomato and herb sauce fills the air. I lower my gun.
“Maeve?”
She leaps out of her skin and turns to me, making the sign of the cross. “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. You scared the living daylights out of me.”
“Are you all right?”
“Yes. Why wouldn’t I be?”
This doesn’t make any sense. “Is Sorcha back from lunch yet?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t seen her.”
Good. That’s good. “Okay, thanks.” As I pivot, Liam’s coming toward me. “Anything?”
“Nothing.”
“No Sorcha?”
He shakes his head. That’s something at least. “Haven’t seen Darragh either.”
“I don’t like this.”
“Me either. Darragh might be in the gym. I’ll go look.”
He heads downstairs while I set off in the direction of the drawing room. If Sorcha’s at home, and safe, it’s likely she’ll be in here. Her other favorite place to hang out is the orchard, but Liam came through that way.
Where are her guards? I left two with her, plus Darragh.
It’s too quiet. Too eerie. Whatever is going on here, my instincts are firing. I don’t fucking like this at all. I poke my head into the drawing room. No Sorcha. Liam’s panicked voice comes from behind me. I spin around. He gestures wildly.
“Hurry up. It’s Darragh.”
Reversing course, I break into a run after him, and we burst through the doors of the gym. Darragh’s lying on the floor by the weight rack. My heart fucking stops dead. “Is he…?”
“He’s out cold, but his pulse is steady. There’s a drop of blood on his neck. Looks like a needle hole.”
“Sedative.”
“That would be my guess. Any signs of Sorcha yet?”
