Page 72 of Cowboy
The road stretches before me, my heart pounding in rhythm with the engine. I weave through traffic, eyes fixed on the tracker. They're moving fast, but not recklessly so. Dylan's being careful, trying not to draw attention. Smart. But not smart enough.
My mind races through possibilities as I ride. Why Wicklow? What's waiting there? A safe house? An escape route? Or is it just a convenient place to finish what he started?
I push the bike harder, the wind tearing at my face. I should have killed Dylan when I had the chance. In Vienna, with my hands around his throat. I should have ended it there, Agency protocols be damned. Instead, I followed the rules. And now Caoimhe and Saoirse are paying the price.
Never again.
The tracker shows them turning off the main highway onto a smaller road. They're heading deep into the mountains now, toward the more remote areas. I follow, keeping a distance while ensuring I don't lose the signal.
Twenty minutes later, the dot stops moving. I slow down, approaching more cautiously now. The road has narrowed, and there’s dense forest on either side. Perfect for an ambush.
I pull over, kill the engine, and check the tracker again. They've stopped at what appears to be an isolated property about half a mile ahead. I text the coordinates to Pyro, then slip the phone into my pocket.
Moving on foot now, I stick to the tree line, advancing slowly. The property comes into view—a small, weathered cabin set back from the road. The black sedan is parked outside. No other vehicles visible.
I circle around, looking for the best approach. There are two windows on each side, one door in front, and likely another around the back. Smoke is rising from the chimney. They're inside.
I consider my options. Wait for backup? No. Every minute I wait is another minute Dylan has to hurt them. But rushing in blind is suicide.
Then I see her—Caoimhe, standing by a window, Saoirse clutched to her side. They're alive. Relief floods through me, followed immediately by renewed determination.
Caoimhe's eyes scan the tree line, as if searching for something. For me. Our gazes lock, and for a split second, I see the recognition in her eyes. She knows I'm here.
Ever so slightly, she tilts her head toward the back of the cabin, then steps away from the window.
She's giving me intel. The back entrance.
I circle around, moving quietly through the underbrush. The back door is partially visible; weathered wood with a simple lock. Nothing I can't handle.
As I approach, I hear voices from inside, growing louder. Dylan and another man. They're arguing.
"This wasn't the plan!" the unknown voice hisses. "You were supposed to be on a plane out of the country by now!"
"Plans change," Dylan replies. "I have unfinished business."
"With your sister? Are you insane? The organization is in ruins because of her!"
"Not just her," Dylan says, his voice colder than I've ever heard it. "Ciarán. He needs to pay too."
"You're going to get us all killed," the man spits. "I'm out. You're on your own."
"Fine," Dylan responds, eerily calm. "But you're not leaving yet. Not until this is finished."
I hear movement inside, shifting positions. This is getting worse by the minute. I need to act now.
The back door doesn't have a clear line of sight to the main room. If I can get in undetected, I might be able to get to Caoimhe and Saoirse before Dylan realizes I'm there.
I approach silently, testing the door handle. Locked, as expected. I pull out my picks and set to work, keeping my movements slow and deliberate. After a tense minute, I feel the lock give.
Easing the door open, I slip inside what appears to be a small utility room. Through the partially open inner door, I can see into the main living area. Caoimhe and Saoirse are seated on a worn couch, Dylan pacing in front of them. The other man—tall, lean, with graying hair—stands by the front window, clearly agitated.
Dylan has a gun, alternating between aiming it at Caoimhe and gesturing wildly. His movements are jerky, unpredictable. He's unraveling.
"It was supposed to be simple," he's saying. "You stay out of the way, living your pathetic little life, while I make millions. But no, you had to go looking for answers, didn't you? Had to play the hero."
"You sold me," Caoimhe replies, her voice steady despite the fear I know she must be feeling. "Your own sister."
"Business is business," Dylan snaps. "Nothing personal."
