Page 69 of Savage Hearts
From where I’m sitting in the leather chair in the living room of the safe house in Manhattan, I can see Sloane making herself a drink. Standing in the dining room pouring whiskey into a crystal highball glass, she looks preoccupied. Worried.
Knowing that overhearing this conversation will make that look worsen, I rise and walk quickly into the bedroom.
As soon as I’m out of earshot, I demand, “Tell me.”
After listening for less than thirty seconds, I’m so angry, I could crush the phone in my fist.
Through clenched teeth, I say,“How the fuck did he get in?”
“I don’t know. We were locked down. None of the alarms went off. He’s a bloody ghost, that one.”
“Kieran?”
“Down. Shot three times. Still breathing, but it doesn’t look good.” He pauses to gulp more air. “There’s more. It’s bad.”
I brace myself for the worst, which is exactly what I get. “Before that Russian bastard ran off with Riley… I…” His voice breaks. “I accidentally shot her. It was meant for him, but she got in the way.”
Breath rushes out of my lungs in an audible whoosh. My life flashes in front of my eyes.
When Sloane finds out about this, we’re all dead. Kieran, Spider, the entire crew.
Me included.
I manage to ask, “Is she alive?”
“I don’t know. It was dark. Fuck, boss, I’m so sorry. I’m killing myself over it.”
I can hear the truth of that in the absolute misery in his voice, but his guilt will have to wait for later. There are far more important matters to deal with first. I blow out a hard breath and snap into command mode.
“Get Kieran to the hospital. When he’s set, review the cameras. See if you can find out how that son of a bitch got in. Then clear out and burn it. Understood?”
“Aye.”
“I’ll call you in two hours. Don’t speak to anyone else until then.”
I disconnect just as Sloane is walking in. She takes one look at my face and says, “Oh, fuck.”
It’s both a blessing and a curse that she can read me so easily.
Slipping my cell into my pocket, I walk toward her slowly, holding her worried gaze. “What I’m going to tell you will be upsetting. You should sit down.”
She shoots the whiskey instead. “Fuck sitting, gangster. I think better on my feet.”
I reach for her, but she puts a hand up to stop me. “Just give it to me straight. What is it?”
I draw a slow breath, longing to take her in my arms and tell her a pretty lie, but knowing it would only make her angry.
Keeping my voice even, I say, “Malek found the safe house in Boston. He broke in. Gunfire was exchanged. He got away… and took Riley with him.”
Sloane’s face drains of blood. She stands unmoving, the pulse throbbing wildly in the side of her neck. She says slowly, “Took. Her.”
Fuck, it’s so hard not to pull her into my arms. “Aye.”
“Where?”
“We don’t know yet. But we’ll find her.” I pause to let that sink in, then say gently, “She’s been injured, love. Shot.”
Sloane drops the empty glass and covers her mouth with both hands.
