Page 55 of Cowboy
I jot down the details. "Thanks, Jer. I owe you."
"I spoke with Travis this morning. Son, he's mighty pissed you haven't told him you've found Caoimhe. He's arriving this afternoon and he wants to meet."
I hesitate, thinking of Caoimhe and Saoirse upstairs. "Tell him I'll be there. But I can't stay long."
"Will do. I'll speak to you later."
After hanging up, I stand at the kitchen counter, my mind racing. Vienna. It's a lead, finally. But what next? I can't just leave Caoimhe and Saoirse, but I can't let this opportunity slip away either. And I know that Travis, Jer, and Pyro will want to come with me.
"Who was that?"
I turn to find Caoimhe standing in the doorway, wrapped in a worn cardigan that's too big for her frame. She looks vulnerable but alert, her eyes fixed on the notepad where I've scribbled Vienna.
"Jerry," I admit, seeing no point in hiding it. "One of his men has spotted Dylan in Vienna."
She stiffens then moves to the coffee pot. "When do we leave?"
"Caoimhe—"
"Don't," she cuts me off, her voice firm despite its softness. "Don't tell me I can't go."
I watch her methodically pour coffee into two mugs, her movements controlled but her hands trembling slightly. "It could be dangerous," I say finally.
She turns to me, a bitter smile touching her lips. "Do you think I don't know what danger is, Ciarán? After everything?"
Shame washes over me. Of course she knows. "That's not what I meant."
"I know." She hands me a mug, our fingers brushing. "But I need to be there. I need to look him in the eye when he explains why he sold his own sister."
"And Saoirse?"
Caoimhe's expression falters. "She can stay with Grá. They already bonded when we met her. She instantly took to her and she'll feel safe with Grá."
I nod slowly, seeing the logic but still hesitant. "I need to see Pyro first. The club needs to know what's happening before we make any moves. I also have a meeting with Travis. No doubt he'll want to see you."
"Pyro," she repeats, a hint of apprehension in her voice. She knows who he is and what he's capable of. "Will he... What will they do to Dylan?"
I meet her gaze steadily. "What do you think the club does to men who traffick women and children, Caoimhe?"
She doesn't flinch. "Good."
We fall into a companionable silence, drinking our coffee as the morning light strengthens. It's almost like old times, almost normal. But the notepad between us with its scrawled "Vienna" and the weight of my cut hanging by the door serve as stark reminders that nothing is normal anymore.
"I had another dream last night," Caoimhe says suddenly, setting down her mug. "Not a nightmare, for once. I dreamed we found him. Dylan. And when I asked him why, do you know what he said?"
I shake my head, watching her carefully.
"He said, 'Because you were always the good one.' That's it. That's all he would say." She laughs, and it’s a hollow sound. "Even in my dreams, I can't understand him."
I reach across the counter, taking her cold hand in mine. "We'll get real answers, Caoimhe. I promise. And then he'll answer to the club."
She squeezes my hand then pulls away as footsteps sound on the stairs. Saoirse appears, rubbing sleep from her eyes, her dark hair a tangled mess.
"Good morning, little one," Caoimhe says, her voice softening. "Hungry?"
Saoirse nods, climbing onto a stool at the counter. "Can I have pancakes?"
"Of course," I say, already moving to the fridge. "With blueberries?"
