He came to a sudden stop in front of a large cement headstone. Abbey gazed at him, the pain in his eyes tearing her soul apart. Slowly she dropped her eyes to the stone and let go a shuddering sigh. She already knew where they stood before she read the marker. The name Morrison was etched deep into the rock in a beautiful script. A pair of hearts adorned each corner. Colin Morrison’s name was on the left with his date of birth and date of death beneath it. Amelia Morrison’s name and date of birth and death were on the right. Sloan’s eyes wandered to the small stone beside it. Ethan Morrison was laid to rest beside his parents. Abbey wrapped her arms around Sloan and hugged him tight.
“I used to come here as a kid,” Sloan spoke, his voice trembling with every word. “I would stand here and talk to my Da and Ethan. I just hoped he was proud of me.”
“Of course he was,” Abbey consoled.
“Vengeance isn’t a business to be proud of.”
“Sloan, you went through hell. And look at your life now. You’re a successful businessman with a loving family.”
He looked down at her as a smile crept across his face. He held her close. “You are right. And it’s all because of you.” He paused. “This is the first time I’ve been here since my Ma passed.”
“I’m glad you took this chance. I know you’ve wanted to come here to see your Mom and Dad.” Abbey cast a look over her shoulder and frowned. A dark sedan was parked outside the gate of the cemetery. A tall man dressed in a suit with dark hair leaned against it. The darkening sky made it difficult to make out much else. “Sloan, we’ve been spotted.”
He shot a glance toward the man and car. “I don’t recognize him but we can’t take a chance.” He wrapped his hand around hers and slowly led her away. “Be prepared to run.”
“Of course.”
The only sound between them was their harsh breath as they strode from the cemetery grounds. They didn’t stop until they reached the truck and climbed in. Sloan fired it up, dropping the pedal to the floor. He didn’t slow his speed until they were well outside the Belfast city limits.
“Are we compromised?” Abbey asked quietly.
“I don’t know.” Sloan glanced out the rearview mirror. “I’ll call Bartholomew and Gordon. They can dig into the intel and find out who that was. We shouldn’t leave the house again until we know.”
“Agreed.”
The journey through the field toward the farmhouse nearly jarred the fear from Abbey. She clung to the seat as the truck shuddered and lurched. Both she and Sloan jumped out as soon as he slipped it into park and shut it off. They raced inside the house, locking the door behind them. Tugging his phone from his pocket, he stormed up the stairs to make his call. She shrugged as she watched him go then shuffled into the kitchen to start supper.
»»•««
A pair of strong hands wrapped around her hips as she was chopping carrots for the stew bubbling on the stove. “Did B or Dad find anything yet?”
Abbey felt a pair of lips press against her collarbone. The growl of “no” followed. She startled at the nip on her skin. The hands on her hips skimmed the waistband of her jeans to undo the zipper.
“Sloan,” she protested breathlessly as he slipped his fingers into her panties. “What if they’re coming?”
“They who?”
“The Butcher. His goons. Whoever wants us dead in Belfast.”
“I don’t care. Let them find me buried inside you when they come. Turn the heat off the pot. I’m not hungry for anything but you, and I’m planning to feast.”
Abbey did as she was told, slowly turning the knob on the stove to off as her heart hammered in her chest. A squeak came to her throat as Sloan picked her up and tossed her over his shoulder. She held on tight as he stomped up the stairs to the bedroom and tossed her on the bed. She gasped as he stripped her jeans off her body then shed his. His groan matched hers as he thrust inside her. Suddenly the terror of being caught fled her mind. All that existed in her world was him.
»»•««
The soft rays of dawn warmed the farmhouse as Abbey slipped down the stairs. She gave up on the comforter. If the powers that be were outside waiting to attack and arrest her they would have to take her into custody naked.
Her body ached from the furious lovemaking the night before. She smiled contentedly. Ever since they stepped foot in Belfast it seemed like they were making up for lost time. They were going to have to start making time in their busy schedule for each other when they returned home. She couldn’t go without him again.
Abbey stopped as she caught sight of something outside the window. She sighed. Here it is. Might as well face the music. Grasping the doorknob, she yanked the door open.
The yard of the farmhouse was empty except the old truck. She frowned as she stepped out onto the porch. If they were hiding they were doing it well.
Her eyes shot to her feet as she felt something crinkle beneath them. A manila envelope peeked through her toes. Her head shot around as she searched for whoever left it. Snatching the package off the porch she fled inside, slamming the door behind her. She slumped against the door as her fingers fumbled with the lock.
“There’s nothing in the wind about us being here,” Sloan’s voice reported as his footsteps on the stairs announced his arrival. “Both Gordon and Liam have talked to their sources. Nothing has been said about us being here.” Stopped at the base of the stairs dressed in a pair of black silk boxers, he gave her a sensual smirk as his eyes roamed her naked body. “I like the wardrobe choice.”
“I don’t think it’s the military.” Abbey held the envelope to him.
Sloan’s grin faded as he took it from her. With his other hand he took hers. He tugged her down onto the couch to sit beside him then ripped the package open. Two photos fell to the ground. Abbey scooped them off the ground and studied them. Sloan wrapped his arms around her as he rested his chin on her shoulder. “It’s a warehouse.”
Abbey bit her lower lip. “I think it’s the one that Brown held you in the first time you brought me here. The Butcher knows we’re here. Why doesn’t he just attack?”
“I don’t know, luv. What I do know if that we’re out of time. He’s forced our hand. Our only option is to respond.”
“We’re walking into a trap.”
“We’ve walked into worse. Besides, they don’t know when we’re coming.” Sloan frowned. “Did you retrieve this envelope without so much as a stitch on?”
Abbey felt her cheeks burn. “Yes. We’re out in the middle of nowhere. And your specifications of my attire in this house is pretty much be naked.”
“So the Butcher has seen you nude.”
Abbey shrugged as she fought her embarrassment. “I guess.”
“Another reason to kill him. I am the only man allowed to see you like this.” He dug his lips into the curve of her neck.
She shuddered as she felt his teeth nip at her skin. “What about the Butcher?”
She groaned as he pulled away from her, gazing down at her with ice blue eyes. “Aye, you’re right, luv. We have quite a bit to prepare. This will have to wait.” Sloan stood and offered his hand to pull her to her feet. She sighed heavily as she jogged up the stairs to dress.
Abbey returned to the living room, finding herself alone. She slipped into the kitchen, yanking open the refrigerator door. She easily found what she was looking for. The refrigerator was nearly bare. She stacked the block of cheese on top of the package wrapped in butcher paper then slammed the door shut. Crossing the room to the counter, she centered the old wooden chopping board in front of her. Pulling a knife from the knife block, she unwrapped the package and sliced the chunk of ham inside. Once there was a small pile of meat she did the same with the cheese.
The sound of the kitchen door opening caught her attention. “You know we have to throw out what we don’t eat today,” Sloan reminded. “If our mission is successful, the leftovers won’t be fit for man or beast when someone returns here.”
“Wher
e did you go?” she questioned.
He lifted up the large black canvas duffle in his hand. “We have an afternoon of weapons preparation ahead of us.”
She laughed. “What do you want on your sandwich?”
He winked at her. “You know what I like.”
Abbey watched as Sloan disappeared with the bag. Her smile faded. Their banter had been so lighthearted like any normal couple at home. Except this couple was about to charge into a war alone. She grabbed the bag of bread, twisting the tie free and pulling out four pieces. She finished the sandwiches and followed him into the living room.
Semi-automatic weapons littered the coffee table. Sloan sat on the sofa, peering through a pistol, carefully inspecting it. He glanced up at the rugby game on the television then returned to the gun in his hand.
Abbey set the plate with his sandwich in front of him then plopped down beside him. “Are we taking all of this?”
“We want to be ready. We’ll take what we can carry.” Sloan set the weapon down then scooped up his sandwich, taking a huge bite. Abbey dug into hers, her stomach rumbling. It only took moments for both sandwiches to be consumed. She stood and took the plates to the kitchen, heaping the rest of the ham and cheese on one. Settling down beside him again, she picked up a rifle and started to clean it.
The sun was setting when Sloan and Abbey loaded the truck with the weapons and their things. As he commanded, she threw out the remaining food and tossed the trash bag in the back of the truck. “Here’s to not coming back here.”
“I’m hoping to be crossing the ocean soon,” Sloan concurred.
They hopped into the cab and Sloan fired it on. Abbey frowned as they bounced along the ruts. “How are we going to sneak up on them in old Blue here?”
Sloan glanced at her from the corner of his eyes. “You know me well enough, luv. I have my resources.”
She huffed a breath of relief as the truck tires hit the highway. “And these resources are where?”
“The airport. A couple of Liam’s associates have them ready for us in a hanger. We’ll leave the truck and our things there. It’ll aid a quick escape when we’re finished.”
“You sound optimistic.”
“I am. I’m not letting this son of a bitch hurt my family anymore.”
The rest of the trip was silent as Sloan sped through the streets of Belfast toward the airport. Pulling into a semi-open hanger, he stopped short of two high powered steel black motorcycles waiting for them. Two men roughly Sloan’s age leaned against them waiting. With a nod they straightened themselves and strode toward them. Sloan returned the greeting with one of his own as he slipped the truck keys into one man’s hand.
“Safe travels,” the man muttered reverently.
“Be back soon,” Sloan responded as he passed. He mounted the first bike and turned it on. It barely let go a purr. Abbey hurried to the other and jumped on, straightening the backpack that held her dismantled rifle on her back before flipping the ignition. Stunned by the silence of the machine she kicked off and followed Sloan out the hanger door.
She held on tight as they weaved their path to the warehouse. The building loomed ahead dark and ominous. It was a warehouse owned by Fitzgerald, Sloan’s former commander in the IRA. He’d let Brown interrogate her then held Sloan captive inside. A barbed wire chain link fence now ran around the perimeter. She grinned to herself. Shortly after their last visit to Belfast she read that Fitzgerald went out of business right after he was arrested. Couldn’t have happened to a better guy.
A gate was open. The chain that normally shut the world away from the building was looped through the links. Sloan parked his bike, knocking his kickstand into place. Abbey did the same.
“Get ready, luv,” he encouraged.
Abbey slipped the backpack from her shoulder. She quickly assembled the rifle, gripping it tight in her hand. “I am.”
He stared at her for a long moment. Suddenly he stormed to her, pulling her into his arms. Her breath was stolen by a crushing kiss. She trembled as they parted.
“I love you,” he whispered.
“I love you too,” she murmured.
Sloan let her go with a smile. She shot him a quick one back before she dashed off for the ladder that led to the roof. Letting her husband charge in alone terrified her but there was no choice. I can protect him better from up here anyway.
Her hands were lightning as she assembled the tripod and set her gun on it. It wasn’t a moment too soon. Her eyes locked on Sloan slowly creeping inside. There was a gunshot. Sloan responded, dropping his assailant. Abbey took out a second before he had a chance to fire. Sloan glanced up appreciatively before moving deeper into the warehouse. Abbey grabbed her equipment and followed.
Abbey barely settled back down before the firefight began again. Sloan took cover behind a crate. Abbey flattened herself on the catwalk and began to fire, her eyes darting to her husband to make sure he was all right. Out of the corner of her eye she saw a figure dressed in a suit, a man she first became acquainted with on the grounds of her children’s school. Oliver.
Holding her breath to steady herself she aimed and fired. The first bullet ricocheted off the steel beam next to him. The second pierced his shoulder. Above the commotion she heard an Irish brogue shout. “Retreat!”
Abbey grabbed her gun and hopped to her feet, leaving the tripod behind. She sprinted along the catwalk after them, readying herself to fire again. The men piled into vehicles waiting for them outside. One man held the door for the wounded Oliver. Abbey blinked then blinked again to clear her eyes. It couldn’t be…
She dropped her weapon and whipped out her cell, hitting the photo app. With the brush of her fingers on the screen she zoomed in the shot. Her thumb hovered over the shutter button.
The Butcher looked directly at her, his ice blue eyes piercing hers. She gasped as her finger hit the button, taking the picture. She tapped her finger several times as she struggled to take a breath. In a few finger strokes she sent them to Bartholomew. She wasn’t sure of what terrified her more. Was it as Gordon had warned, that the Butcher murdered anyone who took his photo or was it that he looked exactly like…
A gentle smile suddenly cracked across the lips of the Butcher as he nodded to her.
Then his gaze turned to Oliver. She watched the Butcher’s face turn to stone as his hand dropped to his pocket. She couldn’t see what happened between the two men clearly. Oliver’s eyes grew wide as he opened his mouth to protest. A gunshot echoed off the building. Oliver doubled over, his good hand gripping his stomach. Abbey saw another flash near Oliver’s temple. He slumped to the ground, lifeless.
The Butcher looked at her once more and smiled before he climbed inside the waiting car. The tires of both cars squealed as the vehicles sped out of sight. Abbey swallowed hard before she spun around and ran back toward Sloan. She stopped suddenly when she found him.
He kneeled on the floor beside three objects. All Abbey could make out was the faded colors of a deflated ball. She climbed down a nearby ladder and rushed to him. “Sloan, we have to go. Oliver is dead. The Butcher killed him. There could still be men to attack.”
He shook as if broken from a trance and stared at her with wide eyes. “Of…course, luv,” he stammered. He gathered the items in his arms and jogged toward where they parked the bikes. He stuffed the items into the backpack he had left tucked beneath the bike before they attacked. Not another word was said as they climbed on and flew through Belfast toward the airport.
Chapter Twelve
The symphony of young voices all chattering at once filled the brightly lit school hallway. Young ladies in formal dresses and young men dressed in slacks, dress shirts, and ties waited excitedly to be escorted into the school dance by their parents. Every student except one. At the back of the crowd, Ame paced anxiously, twirling a black lock of hair around her finger. Her lavender gown brushed against the tops of her feet with every step she took.
She glanced around at the en
vious looks of the other girls. When her parents had brought her home safe, Aunt Vicki had flown into action. Being the assistant to two very powerful people, she had contacts with many famous designers who fought each other to dress the daughter of Sloan and Abbey O’Riley for her school dance. Ame’s dress was a custom sewn, one of a kind from Paris, and it was utterly amazing. It was definitely not off the rack of the department store. She sighed. Being so nicely dressed didn’t take away the sting in her heart. She started pacing again.
Dakota kissed his mother on the cheek then wove through the mass of families to her. “Are you all right?” he questioned, concerned.
“He promised,” Ame near whined as she stomped her foot.
“Who?”
“My dad. He promised he would be here.”
Dakota nudged her aside until they were alone. “I know he did. But who knows where he and your mom are. They went after the Butcher and his men and they said they weren’t coming home until he was gone. You being safe is far more important than a stupid dance.”
A smile peeked from her lips. “You think so?”
“To me, yes.”
Ame’s smile blossomed as she felt her cheeks warm. “Thanks. But this was going to be the first time I could proudly show the school that my dad is Sloan O’Riley.”
Dakota wrapped his arms around her. Ame couldn’t help but hug him back. After a moment Dakota spoke. “Umm, we never cleared something up.”
Ame looked up at him. “What’s that?”
“What you and I are. I mean, we kissed in that cage in the warehouse.”
Ame felt her cheeks get hotter. “I know. I remember. I guess I just thought it was a one time thing. You know, our lives being in danger and such.”
“Oh.” Dakota frowned disappointed.
“What did it mean to you?”
He shuffled his foot shyly against the tile. “I was hoping it meant that you’re my girlfriend. But if you don’t want to, I’ll understand.”
Family Ties Page 14