Page 12 of Cowboy
"There are two bedrooms upstairs," Travis says, gesturing toward a narrow staircase. "Caoimhe, you can take one. Ciarán and I will take shifts keeping watch."
Caoimhe nods, her eyes darting around the unfamiliar space. "What happens now?" she asks, her voice small and uncertain.
I exchange a glance with Travis before answering. "Now, we figure out our next move. We need to ensure your safety."
"And then what?" Caoimhe presses. "How long do I have to hide?"
The question hangs in the air, heavy with implications. How long indeed? Days? Weeks? Forever?
"As long as it takes to keep you safe," I finally say, meeting her eyes. "I promised Dylan I would protect you, and that's exactly what I'm going to do."
Caoimhe holds my gaze for a long moment before nodding. "Okay," she says softly. "I trust you, Ciarán."
As she heads upstairs to get some rest, I turn to Travis. "We need to talk," I say, my voice low. "There's something you're not telling me about all this."
Travis sighs, running a hand through his hair. "You're right," he admits. "There's more to this than I initially let on. But it's complicated, and dangerous. The less you know, the safer you are."
I feel a surge of frustration. "Dylan's dead, Travis. Mike's dead. We're on the run. I think I deserve to know what the hell is going on."
He's quiet for a long moment, his eyes distant. Finally, he nods. "Alright. But not here. Let's step outside."
We step out onto the small porch. Travis leans against the railing, his eyes scanning the darkness.
“We have the names of everyone who has purchased women and children," he begins, his voice low. "It doesn’t have the members who run it, just those who have purchased the trafficked people. They’re the highest levels of government and law enforcement."
I feel my stomach drop. "How high are we talking?"
Travis turns to me, his expression grim. "Cabinet ministers. High-ranking Gardaí. Even judges. All involved in trafficking women and children."
"Jesus Christ," I mutter, trying to process this information. "And now they're after us because we know about it?"
He nods. "They'll stop at nothing to keep this quiet. Dylan... he must have stumbled onto something, gone back to investigate on his own. That's why they targeted him."
A wave of guilt washes over me. If only I'd known. If only I'd stopped him...
"What about Caoimhe?" I ask, pushing aside my regret. "Why are they after her?"
"Insurance," Travis says grimly. "They probably think Dylan might have told her something. And even if he didn't, she's leverage. A way to draw us out."
I clench my fists, anger rising in my chest. "So what's our next move? We can't just hide her forever."
Travis is quiet for a moment. “If that’s what it takes, yes. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep her safe. I fucked up by not protecting Dylan. I will do whatever it takes to protect Caoimhe.”
"And how, exactly, do we do that?" I ask, knowing that I feel the exact same way.
"You're sixteen, Ciarán," Travis says, his voice softening slightly. "You're not responsible for what happened to Dylan."
I shake my head, frustration and guilt churning inside me. "I was his best friend. I should have known something was wrong. I should have stopped him from going back to that estate."
Travis puts a hand on my shoulder. "Listen to me. You couldn't have known. Dylan made his own choices. What matters now is keeping Caoimhe safe and figuring out how to use the information we have."
I take a deep breath, trying to calm myself. "So what's the plan? We can't just sit here and wait for them to find us."
Travis nods, his expression turning serious again. "You're right. We need to be proactive. I have some contacts, people I trust. We'll reach out and see if we can get any intel on who's behind this, who's calling the shots."
"And then what?" I ask.
"Then we fight back," Travis says, his voice hard. "We use the information we have and expose these bastards for what they are."
