Her eyes glassed over. Her hands and torso were smothered in blood. Her chest no longer moved because she was no longer breathing.
She was gone.
It was over. Lyric was safe. Ciaran would be safe. I was going to make sure of it.
The funny thing about time was that it was a direct reflection of the heart. Time was one thing we never got back once it was gone. Moments were irreplaceable. Seconds mattered. Every. Single. One. It was a priceless currency and we chose when and how and who to spend it on—working or sleeping or in a tangle of naked flesh.
Right now, time was running out, and I had to choose.
Lincoln would die if I didn’t get him to a doctor. I knew because I’d watched Liam die because of a bullet. I wasn’t losing another friend the same way. Lyric was going into shock. God only knew where the fuck Ciaran was, and I had less than thirty minutes to find him. My only clue was the brief glance Isla gave toward the back of the church right before Sadie silenced her.
There was no cell phone service, no one to call. The closest hospital was thirty minutes away—by boat. When I did find Ciaran, I had to figure out a way to transport three fucking people down a dirt fucking road without a car.
I needed a strategy, and that strategy started with cutting Lyric loose so that she could help me look for Ciaran.
I ran back to Sadie, tearing through her pockets for a key to the cuffs on the spreader bar between Lyric’s legs. My heartrate tripled when I found them… along with a set of car keys.The tracks in the dirt.In all the chaos, I’d forgotten about them. I wasn’t a man who believed in answered prayers, and even if I did, I certainly didn’t deserve them, but as I held those keys in my hand, I looked up at the cross that watched over us from above and breathed a sigh of thanks.
I unlocked the cuffs, freeing Lyric’s legs, then used the rough edge of the key to cut through the zip ties on her wrists. She immediately ran to Lincoln, dropping to her knees and begging him to open his eyes.
I ransacked the church, scanning every room until I got to the back door. I flung it open and ran outside, calling Ciaran’s name. He was back here. He had to be. A Land Rover was parked behind an old shed at the back of the church. The car was empty.
I shoved my hands in my hair. “Fuck!”
I checked the shed. There was nothing there but some dust-covered church pews, candelabras wrapped in cobwebs, and stacks of bibles and hymnals.
The sound of seconds ticking by echoed in my mind with every breath I took. And then I heard it, the small hum of a motor starting up in the distance. My heart raced as I ran through the tall grass and bramble. The spiny bushes cut through the fabric of my pants and sliced at my ankles. My breath was tight in my chest.
Finally, there, at the shore, was a small fisherman’s boat. And Ciaran.
Thank fuck.
His eyes were wide and focused on my bloody hands when I approached the boat. “Are you hurt?” he asked, and a sense of relief flooded through me at the sound of his voice.
The water was calm around them. The sun was shining high in the sky. The mountains kissed the skyline. It looked like an ordinary day.
It was far from ordinary.
“I’m fine.” I reached out to touch Ciaran, then thought better of it. “You’re about to see some things that you may not understand, but I promise I’ll explain them later.” I didn’t have time right now. I met his eyes. “Okay?”
He nodded.
I turned to the guy at the helm. He was a young kid, not much older than Ciaran. No wonder Sadie was able to convince him to do her bidding. His face paled as he carefully watched my every move.
“I’ll be back in five minutes with two other people. We need to get to a hospital. If you aren’t here with my son when I return, it will be your blood on my hands next. Understood?”
He swallowed. Nodded.
I smiled. “Good.”
Back at the church, Lyric cradled Lincoln’s head in her lap as she rocked back and forth. She held his face in her hands, then brought her mouth to his. “Here, baby. Take my breath.” She blew into his mouth. “Take my life.” Tears poured down her face. “Don’t you fucking do this.” She blew into his mouth again. He didn’t respond. “Goddammit Lincoln Huntington. Take my fucking breath!” She pounded on his chest. He didn’t move. “You don’t get to do this. You don’t get to die!” She held his face, pressed her lips to his.
A pulse thrummed in the hollow of his throat, dull but visible, and his chest moved with narrow breaths.
I squatted down beside her. “He’s breathing, sweet dove. But if we don’t get him to a hospital, he’s going to die.” I tipped her chin up to face me. “He trusted you with me. Now, I need you to trust me with him.” I swept a thumb over her lips, keeping my voice calm, my tone even. If I didn’t, she would panic. She needed an anchor. “Can you do that for me?”
She nodded.
I smiled. “Good girl.” I straightened up, unbuttoned my shirt and slid it off my shoulders. Then I held it open in front of her. “Wear this.”