Page 2 of Cowboy
As soon as our feet hit the ground, we're running. Heavy footsteps follow us as we dash for the exit, but we know this area like the back of our hand. When we were younger, we’d always roam around trying to stay out of trouble. We weave through the maze of unfinished houses, our lungs burning and hearts racing.
Finally, after what feels like hours but is probably only minutes, we reach the edge of the estate. We don't stop running until we're several blocks away, hidden in the shadows of a narrow alley.
Gasping for breath, I turn to Dylan. "You okay?"
He nods, bent over with his hands on his knees. "Yeah," he pants. "But what the hell was that, Ciarán? Who were those guys?"
I shake my head, my mind still reeling from our close call. "I don't know. But one thing's for sure, this job just got a lot more complicated."
He scoffs. “You think?”
"We need to contact Travis," I say, pulling out the burner phone Travis handed me only hours ago. “This changes everything."
Dylan nods, still catching his breath. "What about the package?"
I pat my jacket pocket, feeling the bulk of the package against my chest. "Still got it. But now we know we're not the only ones after it."
I dial Travis' number and he picks up on the third ring. "Report," he barks, his voice tense.
"We've got the package," I say quickly, "but we ran into complications. There were others at the site, armed. They were looking for the same thing we were."
There's a pause on the other end of the line. When Travis speaks again, his voice is low and urgent. "Get to my apartment immediately. Do not stop for anything. I'll meet you there in an hour."
The line goes dead. I look at Dylan. His face is pale and his eyes wide. "We're heading to his apartment," I tell him.
We stick to back streets and alleyways, constantly checking over our shoulders. The adrenaline from our escape is still pumping through my veins, and I feel as though I’m being watched; as if every shadow could possibly be the men back at the estate.
As we near the apartment, in a quiet neighbourhood, I can't shake the feeling that we're being watched. I glance at Dylan and see the same unease in his eyes.
"Something's not right," he mutters as we approach the building.
I nod, my hand instinctively moving to the concealed weapon at my hip. "Stay alert."
We climb the stairs to the third floor, our footsteps echoing in the empty stairwell. I pause at the door to Travis' apartment, listening intently. Silence.
With a deep breath, I unlock the door and push it open, my other hand ready on my weapon. The apartment is dark and still. I flick on the lights, revealing the sparse furnishings of Travis' apartment. He's rarely here. He lives in London, where his children live, but occasionally he's here to do jobs and to deal with those of us who work for The Agency and live in Ireland.
"Clear," I say after a quick sweep of the rooms.
Dylan closes and locks the door behind us, then draws the curtains. "Now what?"
I place the package on the coffee table, eyeing it warily. "Now, we wait for Travis. And hope he has some answers about who else is involved in this mess."
As we settle in for a tense wait, I can't help but wonder: have we stumbled into something much bigger than a simple trafficking ring? And more importantly: are we prepared for what comes next?
The front door of the apartment opens and in walks Travis. His eyes scan me from head to toe before turning to Dylan and doing the same. “You’re both in one piece, which is good. Now, tell me what happened.”
"We were ambushed," I explain, my voice tight. "There were at least three of them, maybe more. They knew exactly what they were looking for."
Travis' eyes narrow. "Did they see you? Recognize you?"
I shake my head. "I don't think so. We managed to slip away before they got a good look at us."
"Good." Travis nods, his gaze shifting to the package on the coffee table. "You got what we came for, at least."
He reaches for the package, but I stop him. "Wait. Before we open that, I want to know what's really going on here. Who were those people? And why are they after the same thing we are?"
Travis sighs and runs a hand through his graying hair. "It's complicated, Ciarán. The trafficking ring... it's bigger than we initially thought. There are powerful people involved, people who don't want their secrets exposed."
