Page 20 of Cowboy
"I know," I interrupt. "But I had to see you. I have information. About Dylan."
Ciarán's eyes snap to mine, his grip on my arm tightening. "What about Dylan?"
I take a deep breath. "He's alive, Ciarán. And he's working with the trafficking ring."
The color drains from Ciarán's face. For a moment, he just stares at me, shock written all over his features. Then, without a word, he's pulling me toward the back exit of the club.
Once we're outside in the cool night air, Ciarán turns to me. "Are you sure?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.
I nod, pulling out a small USB drive from my pocket. "I have proof. Photos, documents... It's all here."
Ciarán takes the drive, staring at it like it might explode in his hand. "Jesus Christ," he mutters. Then he looks back at me, his eyes filled with a mixture of emotions I can't quite decipher. "Caoimhe, where have you been all this time? Do you have any idea how worried I’ve been?”
The intensity of Ciarán's gaze makes my heart skip a beat. For a moment, I'm transported back to those days before everything went wrong, to when he was just my brother's best friend.
But we're not those people anymore.
"I've been... everywhere," I say, trying to keep my voice steady. "London, Paris, Berlin. Anywhere I thought I might find answers about what happened to Dylan."
"And now you have those answers," Ciarán says, his voice tight. "But at what cost, Caoimhe? Do you have any idea how dangerous this information is?"
I lift my chin defiantly. "Of course I do. That's why I brought it to you. I trust you, Ciarán. Even after all this time."
His expression softens slightly at my words. "I never stopped looking for you," he admits quietly. "I thought... I was afraid you might be dead."
The pain in his voice makes my chest ache. "I'm sorry," I whisper. "I never meant to hurt you. I just... I had to do this on my own."
Ciarán runs a hand through his hair, a gesture so familiar it makes my throat tighten. "We need to get you somewhere safe," he says finally. "This information... It changes everything. And if Dylan is really alive and involved in this..."
He trails off, and I can see the conflict in his eyes. Dylan was his best friend, and now we have evidence that he's working with the very people responsible for so much pain and suffering.
"I know a place," Ciarán says after a moment. "Come on."
As we walk through the streets of Dublin, I can't help but steal glances at Ciarán in the flashes of the streetlights. He's changed in the years since I saw him last. There's a hardness to him now, a tension in his shoulders that wasn't there before. But underneath it all, I can still see traces of the boy I once knew.
"You joined a motorcycle club," I say, nodding toward the patch on his jacket.
Ciarán glances at me, surprise flickering across his face. "Yeah. The Fury Vipers. They've become... family."
I nod, understanding the unspoken words. With Dylan gone and me disappearing, Ciarán needed to find a new family. The thought makes my heart ache.
"And you?" Ciarán asks. "Have you been alone all this time?"
I hesitate, memories of the past few years flashing through my mind. The lonely nights, the constant fear. Sometimes it was too much to bear.
"Mostly," I admit. "It was safer that way."
Ciarán's jaw tightens, but he doesn't say anything. We walk in silence for a few more minutes before he stops in front of an old looking apartment building.
"We'll be safe here for now," he promises me.
As Ciarán leads me up the stairs of the old apartment building, I can't help but feel a mixture of emotions. Relief at finally sharing the burden of what I've discovered. Anxiety about what comes next. And an undercurrent of lust and need, a flutter in my stomach every time Ciarán looks at me.
We enter a small, sparsely furnished apartment. Ciarán immediately goes to check the windows and door, his movements speaking of years of caution and vigilance.
"It's a place Travis uses sometimes when we need to lay low."
I nod, suddenly feeling exhausted. The adrenaline that's been keeping me going is starting to wear off, leaving me drained.
