Page 25 of Cowboy
"Alright." Travis nods. "I’ll have Melissa try to trace the call."
"We're not actually giving them the drive, are we?" I ask, my voice hard.
Travis shakes his head. "No, but we need to make them think we are. We'll create a fake, something that looks legit enough to buy us some time."
Pyro nods approvingly. "Good thinking. And while they're distracted with that, we can have a team move in to extract Caoimhe."
"Exactly," Travis agrees.
As good as it all sounds, I can’t help but think it’ll all be for nothing. Caoimhe’s right: men like them won’t give in, and giving us Caoimhe back isn’t going to help them. She knows too much.
All I hope is that she remains alive and holds on until we can track her location down.
8
CAOIMHE
I groan in pain as blood trickles from the cut at the corner of my eye, as well as at my lip. I can't see. My eyes are swollen shut from the beating I took from the men who took me. My entire body aches, but the physical pain is nothing compared to the fear and despair that threaten to overwhelm me.
I try to focus, to remember the training I pieced together during my years on the run. Stay calm. Assess the situation. Look for opportunities. But it's hard to stay calm when I can barely see, when every breath sends shooting pains through my ribs. I'm not sure how long I've been here, hours? Days? Time has lost all meaning in this dark, damp room, not to mention with me drifting in and out of consciousness.
I hear footsteps approaching and tense, bracing myself for another round of questioning. The door creaks open.
"Well, well. Look who's finally awake."
The voice sends chills down my spine. It's cold, detached, and filled with menace. It’s eerily scary and I don’t like it.
"Who... who are you?" I manage to croak out, my voice barely above a whisper.
“That’s something you do not need to know,” he replies, his voice harsh like a whip. “Your friend is wanting to ensure you’re alive,” he grunts. “You’ll assure him of your life and that’s all. If you mention anything else, you’ll regret it.”
I shudder at the threat. I know what’ll happen if I don’t do as I’m told. “What friend?” I croak as pain radiates from my chest.
“Cowboy.” He spits the name as though it’s a curse word. “You’ll assure him you’re alive and then he’ll give us the USB drive you gave him. Once that’s done, we’ll do a swap. You for the drive.”
It takes me a few moments to realize that Cowboy is Ciarán. A lot has changed since I left at the age of fourteen. He’s grown into a man; a gorgeous one, but a deadly one at that. I shake my head, instantly regretting it as pain lances through it. “You won’t give me back,” I tell him.
His laughter is like nails on a chalkboard, harsh and grating. "You're right, we won't give you back. Not in one piece anyway."
I swallow hard, trying to push down the fear that threatens to choke me. "Then why should I cooperate?"
He moves closer, and I can feel his breath on my face. "Because, my dear, the alternative is far worse. You see, we have ways of making people talk that you couldn't even imagine in your worst nightmares."
I try to steel myself, to show no fear, but I can feel myself trembling. "I won't help you hurt Ciarán," I say, my voice barely above a whisper.
"Oh, but you will," he says, his voice sickeningly sweet. "Because if you don't, we'll hurt him anyway. And we'll make you watch."
Before I can respond, I hear the sound of a phone ringing. "Ciarán? Ciarán, is that you?"
"I'm here, Caoimhe," I hear him say. I can hear the tightness in his voice. “Where are you?”
“I don’t know,” I cry, wishing I did. I wish I was able to give him some sort of information as to where I am so he'll know exactly how to help me, but I'm in so much pain that I can't even think straight. But I need to warn him, to tell him not to give them the USB drive. It's the only information they have to find out the truth about what happened to Dylan. I failed in doing so. I only managed to get so far, but there's so much more to uncover. “Don’t give them the information. They’re not going to hand me back—” I’m cut off by a vicious backhand.
The man snatches the phone away, ending the call abruptly.
"That's enough out of you," he snarls, grabbing a fistful of my hair and yanking my head back painfully. "I warned you what would happen if you tried anything."
I brace myself for another blow, but instead he releases me and steps back.
