Page 131 of Three Irish Kings
Chapter Thirty-Two
DARE
Cillianand I find my car parked neatly at the bus station, and while he goes inside, I stare at the keys, which are sitting in the driver’s side.
I don’t have an extra set, but I’ve got plenty of rage in me.
I throw my closed fist against the window, once, twice, three times before the first crack appears. I continue punching, again and again, the pain a welcome relief from everything that is overwhelming me.
As the tempered glass finally gives in, I jerk open the door.
It smells like her in the car, like the lavender body wash I bought her from Italy.
I usually find it intoxicating, but now it burns my nostrils, makes my chest tighten, my throat clog.
My knuckles can’t take much more abuse, blood running from I don’t know how many cuts and tears, the window will need to be replaced, but none of that matters now.
I’m looking for clues.
I search the car up and down, but there’s nothing except for an empty, discarded water bottle.
I let out a string of Gaelic curses I’ve picked up from Liam and stand up straight, sighing heavily.
I’ll have to wait her out.
She’ll run out of cash soon, and she’ll have to contactsomeoneor use one of my credit cards.
I pull out Betsy again, and sit down in the back seat, my legs outside the car, door open. I open the screen and start to work.
I hack into the bus station database, looking for tickets, but there’s nothing under the name Isla Quinn. Of course, there wouldn’t be. And she doesn’t use her alias Isla Waters, either. Or any other Islas whatsoever.
Nothing.
She’s in the wind.
Cillian returns, his head down, and I know he hasn't found anything.
I can barely think.
We had such a good morning, and then she…
I can’t even think about it without wanting to throw up.
Sheleftme. Left all of us.
I need to get to my PC.
Betsy is awesome, and I love her, but my PC has more “horsepower,” and that’s what I need now because I’m going to find her, come hell or high water.
“Nothing,” Cillian says, and I stand up to swipe glass pebbles off the seat.
“I've got to get home, figure this out.”
Cillian opens his mouth to protest, but I start the car, revving the engine and pulling out like the hounds of hell are coming.
A week later,a pounding on my door wakes me up.
I’ve fallen asleep at my desk and not even realized it.
