Page 22 of Cowboy
"I won't let anything happen to her, and yeah, she told me a bit, but it’s fucking unbelievable." I quickly give him a rundown on what Caoimhe said. I’m still trying to wrap my head around it all. Dylan’s alive? What the fuck?
Pyro's eyes widen as I finish explaining. "Jesus Christ," he mutters. "Dylan’s alive and working with the traffickers? That's a hell of a twist."
I nod grimly. "Yeah, it's hard to believe. But Caoimhe says she has proof."
"And you trust her?" Pyro asks, his gaze searching.
I don't hesitate. "With my life. Caoimhe wouldn't lie about something like this."
Pyro leans back, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "Alright. So what's your next move?"
"I need to get back to her and go through the evidence she's gathered. Then we'll need to bring Travis in and figure out our next steps."
"The club's got your back, brother," Pyro says firmly. "Whatever you need."
I feel a surge of gratitude. The Vipers have become my family, and knowing they have my back means everything. "Thanks, Py. I appreciate that."
As I turn to leave, Pyro calls out, "Cowboy." I pause, looking back at him. "Be careful. If what Caoimhe's saying is true, you're dealing with some seriously dangerous people."
I nod, the weight of the situation settling heavily on my shoulders. "I know. I'll watch my back."
With that, I head out into the night, my mind racing. I can't shake the feeling that everything's about to change. Again.
As I approach the safe house, a sense of unease washes over me. Something feels off. I quicken my pace, my hand instinctively moving to the gun at my waist.
I reach the door and find it slightly ajar. My heart rate spikes. "Caoimhe?" I call out, pushing the door open slowly.
The apartment is in disarray. Furniture overturned, papers scattered everywhere. And Caoimhe is nowhere to be seen.
"Fuck," I mutter, my eyes scanning the room for any clues.
There’s nothing, not a fucking clue as to who has her or what happened.
I pull out my cell and dial Travis. "Travis, we have a problem. Caoimhe's gone."
There's a sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line. "What do you mean, gone?"
I quickly explain meeting with her and bringing her to the apartment. I tell him about what she told me and the state of the apartment, the signs of struggle. "Someone took her, Travis. And I have a feeling it's connected to whatever information she uncovered about Dylan."
"Shit," Travis mutters. "Alright, I'm on my way. I’m in Longford on a job with Stephen. I won’t be long. Don't touch anything, we need to preserve any evidence."
I pace the small apartment as I wait for Travis, my mind racing. Who could have taken Caoimhe? And why now, just when she'd finally reached out to me?
Travis arrives almost two hours later, his face grim as he surveys the scene. "We need to move fast," he says, pulling out his phone. "I'm calling in some favors; see if we can get any leads on who might have taken her."
As Travis makes his calls, I pace the floor, feeling helpless. We have no idea where she is or who’s got her. I promised her she’d be safe here. Fuck.
“The security feeds around the apartment are down,” Travis hisses. “I have Melissa working her magic to track whoever took Caoimhe, but fuck, we’ve got no leads to go on.”
Panic and fear rise through me. “Someone has to fucking know who took her!” I snarl. “Someone has to know.”
Travis lays a hand on my shoulder. “We’ll find her,” he promises me.
But that feeling in my gut is back, the one that tells me that something bad has happened to her. I can feel it.
It’s been almost twenty-four hours since Caoimhe disappeared again. This time, it wasn’t on her own accord. Someone’s taken her and we have no fucking idea who. Every lead we’ve had, we’ve tracked down and nothing. Not a fucking thing. No one knows where she is.
I run my hands through my hair, frustration and fear coursing through me. "There has to be something we're missing," I say, pacing the room. "Some clue, some lead we haven't followed up on yet."
