by Jacob Chance
“I didn’t think you would. But if I could take you anywhere in the world, where would you want to go?”
“You’re going to think I’m just saying this, but it’s absolutely true. I would choose Ireland.”
“Really?” He grins so widely, the Netflix show we have on is practically reflected in his white teeth.
“Really. I’ve always been fascinated by it. Everything I’ve read about Ireland makes it sound magical.”
“So you’ve been looking for an Irish lad all your life, have ya?” he teases.
“I might have a thing for one tall, dark, and handsome Irishman with a sexy accent.”
“Aw, luv, that’s so sweet of you.”
“Pfft, I was talking about Colin Farrell.”
He flips me to my back, his face hovering above mine. “Are you trying to poke the bear?”
“Actually, I was hoping the bear would poke me.” Lifting my hips, I grind against his obvious hard-on.
“Grrr,” he growls, attacking my neck with his mouth and teeth. Peals of laughter erupt from my lips. He bites me playfully, climbing upward until he claims my lips, cutting off all protest and my ability to think about anything but the man making my body sing and my heart overflow.
Chapter Eleven
Belfast
“So I’ve been thinking about our problem.”
“Don’t you mean problems?” Georgia quips in between sips of her coffee. “I can’t begin to wrap my brain around how we’re going to even step outside without wondering when we’ll be getting shot at again.”
“Interesting.”
“What do you mean interesting?” She snaps her head toward me.
“I figured you’d be used to it by now, with what you do for work and all.”
“Really? What is it you think FBI agents do on a daily basis?” She looks sincere.
“My guess would be most of them start the day with a little bit of boot-licking to the brass before sitting around with their thumbs up each other’s asses and talking about ways to trample on the common folks’ civil liberties.”
“You’re so funny.” Georgia slips off her chair and leans over the table, planting a soft kiss on my cheek. “I can barely contain my laughter.” She plops back down on her seat and takes a sip of her coffee.
“So back to our problem.”
“Yes, by all means, please let’s discuss our impending doom before I finish my coffee.” Georgia holds the mug between both her hands, her fingernails tapping against the Pats logo on the side. “Let me see if I can sum it up for us. We are being hunted by the FBI, an agency with more resources available to them than we have time to even talk about. The agents hunting us are the best, and I know this because I’ve worked alongside them and called them my friends for years now. These agents have conspired to murder, and carried out the murder of, the agent who was in charge of the Boston office—who was also my mentor and friend. Since then, they’ve framed you for that murder and shot up the city on multiple occasions trying to kill us both. And let’s please not forget your kidnapping and their second attempt at framing you for a murder. We don’t know who else is involved, who they were trying to kill the second time, or how high up the chain of command any of this goes. How do we match up against all of that?” She shakes her head. “It’s all too much.”
“I was thinking we should start by talking to your old friends at the Boston Office.”
“Who? Nash? Sam?” Georgia looks at me like I’m joking.
I’m not.
“Yes, ma’am, Nash and Sam. They’ll be the best place to start for us.”
“And we’re just going to stroll into the Boston Office of the FBI and surrender ourselves in order to have a conversation?” Georgia’s growing scowl tells me she’s getting more annoyed with every word I say.
“Don’t be silly, luv. We'll need to snatch them up one at a time and have a little bit of a private conversation. I’m betting one of them will tell us all we need to know.”
“You must be joking.” Georgia sounds disgusted.
“I can be very persuasive when I need to be.” I try to reassure her with a smile.
She pauses, her tightened lips clearly expressing her disappointment. like I’m a naive child unaware of how the real world works. “I’m sure you can be, Brennan, but these men are professionals, the best in the business. We’d be better off trying to storm the White House.” She snorts.
I crack my knuckles in a series of pops. “Well then, this next part of the conversation might be a little awkward.”
“Awkward? How so?”
“Get dressed and meet me downstairs.”
“Seriously? Do you need to be so dramatic?” Georgia looks extremely annoyed. But she quickly gets up and walks to the bedroom as I head for the door. “I’ll be down in five minutes,” she calls out.
Exactly nine minutes later she makes it to the first floor where I’m patiently waiting. “Glad you could make it.”
“I’m here, so don’t start complaining. How about you tell me what it is that’s going to be so awkward that I needed to get dressed and come all the way downstairs to find out?”
“Maybe it’s better if I show you.” I gently edge the back door to the bar open and hold a finger to my lips, urging Georgia to keep silent.
She eases up, taking a look. “What the hell? Who the fuck is that?” She spins back around to face me.
“That’s Michael.” I look back inside, point at Mikey and wave. He waves back and tips the brim of his scally cap toward Georgia.
“And who is that tied to the chair in front of Michael?” she grits out, unamused.
“That would be your friend, Sam.”
“How did he… when did you?” she stammers in disbelief.
“Take a breath, luv.” I pull her back into the hallway where we can talk quietly. “I was up early this morning and decided to do a bit of recon back at your place.”
“You got up and left? I didn’t even know you were awake, much less out of bed.” She’s stunned.
“Crawling out of bed and taking my leave without alerting the woman lying next to me is a skill I developed a long time ago, Georgie.” I smirk.
“But…” She looks back and forth between me and the door, still confused by what she’s seen.
“So like I said, I decided to do some recon over at your place. When I got there, your friends were still on scene, tearing the place apart.”
“Okay, but how does that lead to Sam tied to a chair in the next room?”
“Well, I overheard your boy in there talking with your other pal, Nash, and they mentioned breaking off for a few hours to recharge.”
“Wait, you overheard them talking? How could you possibly hear their conversations?”
“I really only heard the one conversation. And that was because they were in the next room at the time. I had to keep moving around.”
“Did you just say you were in the next room?”
“At the time, yes. Like I said, I had to keep moving around, so I wasn’t hearing everything they had to say.”
“How did you get in?” She rolls her eyes. “Never mind. Go on.”
“Once they left, I followed this one in here back to his car and invited him to come have a talk.”
“Invited him?” Georgia isn’t buying it.
“I’d say it was more of a nonverbal type of invitation. Anyway, here we are, and now it’s time to get some answers.”
“You go in solo first.” Georgia is immediately up to speed and focused.
“That’s what I was thinking too,” I agree.
“Well, look at you, good looks and a thinker.” She slaps me on the ass and kisses me on the cheek. “Now keep him alive long enough to get us some answers.” She winks at me, and my heart melts.
“Marry me…”
Georgia pauses before responding, as if she’s considering my proposal. “Okay, but only after we’re done killing all of the bad guys.”
“Deal.” I ki
ss her on the cheek right back and head out to speak with my new friend, Sam.
Mikey is sitting on a stool in the back corner of the bar. “This one’s a cool customer. He’s been awake now for ten minutes and hasn’t said a word.” Mikey speaks quietly when I step over to see how our hostage is doing.
Sam is tied to a chair, facing the front door with a hood covering his face.
“Agent Beck, the time has come.” I rip the hood from his head roughly while standing directly behind him. “Your time has come.”
“Who are you? What do you want?” He struggles to focus his eyes and turns his head back to get a look at me.
“Relax, Sammy.” I step around so he can see me, slapping the back of his head as I pass. “You’re about to get to know me, real well.”
“You.” He’s instantly enraged and begins struggling against his restraints.
“Save your strength, Sammy.” I step in close and slap him as hard as I can twice, once on each side of his face. His head rocks from side to side. “You’re gonna need it.” I slap him twice again, even harder than the first time.
Getting slapped sucks. It’s disorienting and it stings. If you do it right, the person’s eyes will fill up, their ears will ring, their head will throb, and their face will feel like it’s on fire.
I’ve just done it right, four times in a row.
Sam stops struggling against his restraints and tries to catch his breath, forcing the air out of his lungs as fast as he can to deal with the sudden shock and pain.
I stand in front of him, expressionless and silent, waiting for him to catch his breath. It takes him nearly thirty seconds to settle down and begin to breathe normally.
“Where’s Agent Cohn?” His eyes have almost regained their focus as he shouts at me.
“Look at you, all full of piss and vinegar.”’I step back in without another word and have at him again. This time I slap him six times on each side of his face before I step back. His head snaps right and left like a zig-zag line.
Tears are now streaming down his face, which is bright red and starting to swell.
Stepping back, I stand in front of him again.
This time it takes him quite a bit longer to calm himself down enough to yell at me. “Where’s Agent Cohn?”
He quickly recoils and tugs at his restraints as I step in once again and slap the shit out of him. I lose count of exactly how many times my hand makes contact with his face during this round. And this time I don’t stop until he cries out in pain.
Both sides of Beck’s face are now purple, and he can’t even keep his eyes open. His nose and mouth are both bleeding, and his head is slumped down with his chin against his chest.
“Where’s Georgia?” he mumbles at me, and spits on the floor.
I step in again and grab hold of his chin, forcing his head back until he’s looking straight up at me with his eyes wide open. “I have a few questions of my own to ask.”
“I’m not telling you shit until you tell me where she is.” He stares up at me defiantly, with hate in his eyes and venom in his voice.
I slowly push his head back a bit farther, until he starts to choke. I hold him there and wait, watching his blue eyes bulge as he struggles for breath before I release him.
“Ask and you shall receive.” I step back and smile. “Georgie, you heard the man.”
Agent Beck slowly picks his head up when he hears footsteps approaching from behind him.
Georgia casually saunters over and stands next to me with a smile. “Hello, Sam.”
“Georgia? What are you doing... with him?” The look on his face is priceless.
“Who’s calling the shots? Why Karyn?” Georgia immediately begins to fire questions at him. “Is Nash involved? What about Zoe?”
Beck doesn’t even hear what she’s saying. “You’re with him?” he murmurs, staring straight up at her in disbelief.
“Answer me,” Georgia yells at him, but it doesn’t matter. Beck hangs his head. He’s all done.
“Can I get a moment?” I pat Georgia on the ass and walk to the back hallway again.
“You mind telling me what that’s all about?” I ask as soon as she catches up.
“What do you mean?” She looks confused.
“You failed to mention that peckerhead in there has himself a bit of a schoolboy crush on you.”
“Oh, knock it off, will ya?” Georgia dismisses my suggestion. “He’s completely shut down. What are we going to do now?”
“We just have to move on to plan B.”
“Plan B?”
“We’ll go have a conversation with Garrison.”
“I don’t know… taking Nash won’t be easy.”
“Stop complaining. You’ve no one to blame but yourself, Georgie.”
“It’s my fault? How do you figure it’s my fault?”
“You broke my first hostage, so now I have to go get another.”
Georgia laughs. “You’re an idiot.”
“I’m not the one crying over a woman I can’t get.”
“So what does that make you?” she teases. “The idiot who gets the girl?”
“Nah, I’m the guy who fucks the prom queen on her bedroom floor right before the idiot comes to pick her up with flowers.”
“Promises, promises.”
Chapter Twelve
Georgia
I’ve seen a lot in my career, and in my life. But I’ve never watched a man beaten and broken like what I’ve just seen. I understand why it had to be done, but standing in the same room as it was happening was difficult.
It’s not something just anyone can do, and I’d always assumed the worst of those who participated in such things. But I have to say, watching Belfast break a man so easily and knowing why he’s doing it, has me turned on more than I’d like to admit.
“Are you okay with all of this?” Belfast startles me out of my daydream.
“What? Oh, yeah, I’m good with it.” I stumble over my words.
“Good, because we’re gonna be at the address you gave me for Garrison in a minute.”
“How do you know he’s here?”
“I’ve told you twice now, Georgie. He mentioned getting some rest and recharging.”
“That’s it?”
“Well, where else is he going to go?”
“I don’t know, it seems pretty...” I stop talking when I see Nash’s work vehicle parked on the street out in front of his brownstone.
“Well now, would you look at that,” Belfast teases. “I’m no expert, but I do believe that looks like one of them expensive government sedans. You know, the kind that sticks out like a sore thumb and probably costs three times as much as the others.”
“You got lucky.” I refuse to give him the win.
“I’ll take it.” He smiles. “Now, which floor is Garrison’s place on?”
“Actually, he’s on the second floor, and the building is locked, with security at the front entrance. Any ideas on how we’re going to get inside?” This should be interesting.
“And the back door?” Belfast sees I’m messing with him and his eyes light up.
“Locked but unattended.” I smirk at him, egging him on even more.
“Gimme six minutes… no wait.” He turns and looks out his window, staring up at the building. “That’s four floors. Gimme seven minutes and meet me at the back exit.” He leans over and kisses me on the lips, then hops out of the car. He turns back before shutting the door. “On your mark, get set…”
He waits for me to respond. And he keeps waiting.
“Go.” I finally give in, and he closes me inside.
The man is a child
I quickly lose sight of him after he darts across the street. He appears at the back corner of the building a few seconds later, and then vanishes again right away.
I slide across the front seat and crane my neck, scanning the back of the building, but don’t see him. Until I look up. By the time I catch sight of him again, he’s already
reached the second floor, climbing up the outside of the building.
“So now he’s frigging Spider-Man?” I speak to the empty seat beside me.
I’m dumbfounded by his acrobatic display and sit motionless, watching him scale the outside of the brick and stone facade in no time at all.
Exactly six minutes and twenty seconds later, I’m standing at the back door when Belfast pushes it open with a smug grin on his face.
“You’re late by my count.” I try to appear as unimpressed as possible.
“Liar.” He laughs and closes the door behind me.
We quickly make our way up the inside back stairwell and are standing outside Nash and Zoe’s apartment before I have time to think about details. “Wait, how are we supposed to get in?” I whisper to Belfast.
“Shh.” He holds a finger up to his lips and presses his ear gently against the door. It’s quiet inside, and we wait nearly three full minutes without a sound before Belfast decides it's time to go inside.
Fifteen seconds later, he’s picked the lock and we’re standing inside the apartment. I don’t see or hear anyone. We wait and listen, again.
There’s a faint sound coming from the back of the apartment. It takes a few seconds before we both recognize what we’re hearing.
“Well, that’s unfortunate,” Belfast whispers to me.
“For them,” I whisper right back.
He sniggers and motions for me to wait for him in the kitchen. He checks his gun, and then creeps toward the back of the apartment with a devilish look in his eyes.
I listen from the kitchen and can clearly hear the unsuspecting moans and groans coming from Nash and Zoe’s bedroom. The sound of the bed creaking falls into a familiar rhythm, increasing in pace gradually until it sounds as if it may break.
What the hell is he waiting for?
The creaking gets faster until it sounds like a drumroll, then stops as Zoe cries out in ecstasy.
Less than five second pass in silence before I hear Belfast’s voice.
“Now that you’ve finished, let’s have a chat.”
The sounds of Zoe screaming and Nash shouting are short lived.