Page 53 of Cowboy
She tenses beside me, her eyes darkening. "What about him?"
I take a deep breath, steeling myself. "We never did speak about the evidence you found. Solid evidence that he was working with the traffickers."
Caoimhe goes very still, her face pale in the dim light. "You’ve seen it?"
I nod grimly. "Yeah, I've seen it. It's pretty damning, Caoimhe. There's no doubt he was involved."
She closes her eyes, pain etched across her features. "I knew it. Deep down, I think I always knew. But hearing it confirmed..." She trails off, shaking her head.
"I'm so sorry," I say softly, reaching out to take her hand. "I can't imagine how hard this must be for you."
Caoimhe's eyes snap open, a fire burning in them that I haven't seen since before her ordeal. "Don't be sorry. He made his choices. What I want to know is: what are we going to do about it?"
I'm taken aback by her sudden intensity. "We?"
She nods firmly. "Yes, we. He's my brother, Ciarán. I need to be part of this."
I hesitate, torn between wanting to protect her and respecting her strength. "Caoimhe, are you sure? After everything you've been through?—"
"Exactly," she interrupts. "After everything I've been through, I deserve answers. I deserve justice. Not just for me, but for Saoirse and all the others."
I study her face, seeing the determination there. It's a glimpse of the old Caoimhe, the fighter I fell for. "Okay," I say finally. "But we do this carefully. Your safety, and Saoirse's, comes first."
Caoimhe nods, squeezing my hand. "Thank you. So, what do we know?"
I take a deep breath, organizing my thoughts. "We know he's been working with the trafficking ring for years. The evidence you found suggests he was pretty high up in the organization. We've been trying to track him down, but he's gone to ground."
"Any leads?" she asks, her voice steady.
"A few," I admit. "We think he might be in Eastern Europe. Romania or Bulgaria, possibly. But it's just whispers at this point."
Caoimhe is quiet for a moment, processing this information. "What about the others? The men who... sold us?"
“We’ve yet to figure out who’s behind it, but I’m determined to. I have a feeling that once I find Dylan, he’ll give us more information.”
Caoimhe nods, her expression hardening. "We need to find him, Ciarán. I need to know why he did this. Why he betrayed his own sister."
I run a hand through my hair, understanding her need but also worried about the toll this could take on her. "I get it, Caoimhe. But we need to be smart about this. Dylan's dangerous, and he's got powerful connections. We can't just go charging in."
She takes a deep breath, visibly trying to calm herself. "You're right. I know you're right. It's just... hard to be patient when I think about what he's done."
"I know," I say softly, squeezing her hand. "But we'll get him, I promise. And when we do, you'll get your answers."
We sit in silence for a moment, the weight of the situation settling around us. Then Caoimhe speaks again, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Ciarán... what if he was involved in my kidnapping? What if he knew where I was all this time?"
The thought had crossed my mind too, and it makes my blood boil. "If that's the case," I say, my voice low and dangerous, "then he'll pay for every second you suffered. I swear it."
Caoimhe looks at me, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "Thank you," she whispers. "For everything. For not giving up on me, for helping with Saoirse, for... for being here."
I reach out, gently cupping her face in my hand. "I'll always be here for you, Caoimhe. Always."
For a moment, we're both still, caught in the intensity of the moment. Then, slowly, Caoimhe leans in, her lips meeting mine in a soft, hesitant kiss.
The kiss is gentle and tentative at first, but quickly deepens as months of pent-up emotion and longing come pouring out. I pull Caoimhe closer, one hand tangling in her hair as the other wraps around her waist. She melts into me, her fingers gripping my shirt as if afraid I'll disappear.
When we finally break apart, we're both breathless. Caoimhe's eyes are wide, a mixture of desire and uncertainty swirling in their depths.
