“Thanks for saying that. It sort of helps some.” Her words were more garbled again, and she stumbled hard into me.
I tightened my grip around her waist, and cut a look at Pierce. “We have to remember to say all this again when she’s coherent.”
He nodded, but when we got near the cottage he suddenly changed direction, turning toward his parents’ house. Not wanting to ask out loud, I wrinkled my forehead at him
“You’ll be safe with my parents, Cait. My máthair, she, ah, mothers.”
He’d answered my question, and yes, I figured out that his explanation was for me and not for Cait, since she was totally out of it, and even if the drugs weren’t affecting her, she’d have been lost in a world of her own emotional hurt and Pierce’s explanation wouldn’t have mattered.
But my heart? It flip-flopped all over the place. Tynan Pierce knew me very, very well.
Siofra had the kitchen door open before we reached the back steps. In an instant she’d taken over, had us move Cait onto to the living room sofa, plumped pillows and blankets around her, and began tending her cuts and bruises. But through it all, she hadn’t asked a single question. But she also managed to maintain the peaceful calm that was such an innate part of her, and I wanted to learn how.
Lorcán busied himself adding a fresh log to the fire, then pulled Pierce aside. “Who did it?”
Pierce shook his head. “We got her out. Thought it best to wait on the questions.”
Siofra straightened. “You’re going back, then?”
“They killed Everly’s parents.” Four simple words that needed no discussion.
I brushed Cait’s hair away from her face, and her eyes fluttered open. “Is there anything you need to tell us before we confront your parents?”
She swallowed, struggling to talk. “They said…formula. Changed their…bodies. Didn’t…hear much. Unconscious…Murchadh hit me. Drugs.”
A chill worked its way up my spine, and I shared a frantic look with Pierce. Lorcán noticed. “Want an extra pair of hands, son?”
“No thanks. It’s as important to keep Cait and Máthair safe.”
How the hell was he going to get rid of Murchadh’s body? Not that Pierce ever had problems with cleanup. I was already halfway to the kitchen door when Pierce brushed past me and ran full-out for our cottage.
And then I saw the black satchel tucked between the front door and stair railing.
“No!” The scream shattered in my chest.
TWENTY-SIX
“TAKE COVER,” PIERCE ROARED, HIS hands closing around the satchel.
My muscles wouldn’t work. My feet were glued to the ground.
Pierce lifted the bag, hauled back, then flung it into the woods behind the cottage, and dove for cover.
The explosion rocked the ground, knocking me on my ass. A sharp pain shot from the base of my neck into my skull, immobilizing me. It was that damn right side again, and then images, terrible images flashed on my internal monitor, but they’d disappeared before I could process what they meant. A child. Hurt. No it was Pierce. He’d been hurt. My heart shuddered.
I hauled myself shakily to my hands and knees, and crawled toward him. He’d skidded along the ground on his stomach, hands wrapped around his head. And he wasn’t moving.
Breathe, Everly, breathe. I couldn’t get my lungs to work, and the edges of my vision went foggy while the world clamored dizzyingly around and through me. He couldn’t be hurt. I loved him.
I reached his side, and tentatively touched the side of his neck. A pulse beat against my fingertips, and images flashed. I sucked in some air, blinked back the sting in my eyes. He’d be okay. Had to be.
But…whoa…what he’d seen when he spotted the satchel was very different from what I had seen. Later. I’d deal with his gifted sight later. First priority was a doctor.
Siofra had come up beside me, and was running her hands over Pierce’s body. “He’s a strong man, Everly, but there’s some damage to the left leg.”
I hadn’t checked any further than his upper body, frantic for the reassurance of a pulse. I whirled, too fast, and everything faded to black. The pain in my neck stabbed sharper. When my eyes cleared, I saw the pool of blood oozing from under Pierce’s leg. “How bad?”
Siofra patted my hand. “It’ll take a bit of stitching and leave a scar, but he’ll be up and about in a day or so.”
I worked to get some oxygen into my lungs—inhaling and exhaling until I broke through the knot in my upper chest. “Is everyone else okay?”
Lorcán knelt next to me, examined Pierce’s leg. “Yes. We’ve some bruises, but we’re both mobile. What was the situation at Grady’s house?”
I swallowed, hard. “We didn’t see Eamon Grady or Fion Connor. The man, I think his name is Murchadh, Pierce…dispatched him. I don’t know the details.”
He touched Siofra’s shoulder. “Can you handle this, Mo Chroí?”
Pierce groaned, rolled over. His clothes were torn and blood stained. “Damn that hurts. What the fuck?”
Siofra glared at him, then whipped the shawl off her shoulders and started wrapping Pierce’s leg.
The weight lifted from my chest, and I grinned, then got right in his face. “Idiot that you are, you picked up a bomb and heaved it into the woods. It exploded. Shook all of us up and—”
“Took out the back of the cottage,” Lorcán said. “You’ll be staying at the house tonight.”
Pierce elbowed to sitting, dropped back down. “Gotta move. Thanks for bandaging me, Máthair.”
Siofra scowled. “You won’t be walking on it,” she huffed, then eyed Lorcán. “Move him into the house for me, will you. If he tries to walk, he’ll do more damage.”
Lorcán bent, then heaved Pierce over his shoulder. “Downstairs?”
“Yes, the guest room.” Siofra darted past me and into the house.
It took me a minute to close my mouth, and then catch up with her. I’d never, ever seen anyone manhandle Pierce. My lungs forgot to work. Oh, God. What if he had internal injuries? I snagged Siofra’s sleeve. “What if his insides are hurt? Shouldn’t we get him to the hospital?”
The look she gave me was crystal clear, packed with a hefty measure of comfort. “He’ll be fine, my sweet girl. You can help Lorcán.”
I rubbed my tailbone, only now aware I’d bruised it, but Siofra’s mother-glare slammed me back to reality.
“You’re hurt.”
“No. Just landed hard. Please take care of Tynan.”
She was right. He’d be okay, but someone had to clean up the mess at Eamon Grady’s house. And I still had questions to ask. My stomach flipped. Only now I was alone. No backup. I fumbled in my pocket, palmed my phone. No, calling Annie would only worry her, and there wasn’t anything she could do from a million miles away. I dropped the phone back in my pocket, then tuned into what was going on around me.
Pierce was busy swearing at his father, Siofra rummaged around the kitchen gathering her medical supplies, and I was finally getting my brain in gear. “Um, I don’t mean to be offensive, but are you trained to take care of Tynan’s injury? He really should have x-rays, lab tests—”
“I have the skill and some healing gifts as well. My father came down through the Circle of Nine. And of course Pierce and I studied medicine together when he was at university. I’m not officially a physician, but I have mastered the skills needed for most medical issues that occur here at Tuatha Dé Danann.”
Right. How had I forgotten that Pierce had his MD? Could probably stitch himself up. I hustled into the living room to check on Cait. Sound asleep. The drugs those monsters fed her must have been potent for her to have slept through the blast, but her breathing was smooth and even, and, though her bruises were beginning to turn an ugly purple, she seemed stable.
I was more worried about her emotional damage. But that would have to wait. Eamon, Fion, and…Murchadh couldn’t.
Lorcán stomped all the way from the guest bedroom into the kitch
en. “He’s your son, Mo Chroí.”
His tone made me decide to stay far away from the guest room, at least until I had things under control with Murchadh. “How do we deal with the body…”
Lorcán held up Pierce’s cell and punched in some numbers. “I believe we will allow Tynan’s people to take care of the remains.”
I sighed, heartfelt and relieved. Body disposal wasn’t in my repertoire, and it suited me just fine to keep it that way. “The dead man, Murchadh, he’s the one who hurt Cait.”
Some of the tension disappeared from around Lorcán’s mouth and eyes, and he nodded. “I expected as much. Tynan takes his profession seriously.”
The weight of being on my own settled heavy on my shoulders. There were the files we’d hidden in the cottage to check on, but more importantly I needed to confront Grady and Connor before they pulled a disappearing act, unless they were planning to hang around until they managed to kill me. And wouldn’t that just be a flippydoodle of a mess to leave with Pierce’s parents? I shuddered. To say nothing of the inconvenience of being dead. I wasn’t ready to die. Absolutely, completely not ready. At all.
I shrugged it off and made for the front door.
“Where do you think you’re going, Everly?” Lorcán, slightly threatening.
He sounded so much like Pierce that I did a double-take. He even had the same mulish expression.
I straightened my spine, and planted my feet. “What I came here to do, of course. Confront Eamon Grady, and, since Fion Connor is visiting him, her as well. I have questions that need to be answered, but before I go, I’ll detour to the car and collect a weapon. Without Pierce, it would be foolish for me to confront them without a way to protect myself.” No point mentioning anything about revenge to Pierce’s father.
“We don’t allow weapons at Tuatha Dé Danann.” There was doubt in his voice.
I waved my hand toward the cottage. “If that bomb had been larger, or placed differently, it could have killed your son and the rest of us as well. I’m not breaking your rules lightly, but Grady and Connor have left me no choice.”
“You think they’re responsible for the explosion?” He hiked an eyebrow—it was so much like father, like son that I shivered.
“Yes.” I paused, considering. “You know about my…gift?”
He nodded.
“The image was clear when I touched Pierce. Fion Connor made the bomb.” Another pain stabbed my neck, this one so sharp it weakened my knees. Damn, why had that been happening to me lately?
Siofra glided up behind Lorcán, her hands full of bloody gauze. “She’s right, Lorcán. I’m not about violence of any sort, but if that device had detonated while Tynan held it, we would have lost him. That’s not acceptable.”
I backed toward the door while she talked. Mostly because I needed to escape before I blew off my quest for revenge and went to hold Pierce’s hand. I loved him. The thought left an uncomfortable hollow around my heart, and I wasn’t sure how to fill it. How I loved Tynan Pierce had changed, though. That much I was sure about. It had slipped from friendship to something…else. I knew it when he was lying there so still, before I felt his pulse beating strong against my fingers.
And now the pull to stay by his side was strong, insistent, but he’d probably never forgive me for hovering, especially while he was incapacitated. And I needed time to think this through. No way could I just walk in his parents’ guestroom and tell him I loved him. That would be… I had no idea what it would be. I blew out the mother of all sighs. “Pierce is…?”
Siofra smiled, briefly. “He’ll be trying to sneak out of the bedroom in a minute. Best I get back there and give him a dose of stern mothering.”
He’d be okay. For sure. And that was my signal to wrap things up with Connor and Grady. I turned on my heel, and left the house without looking back. Curious neighbors had begun to swarm around the Pierces’ house, so I made myself as small and innocuous as possible, pretended to be Tynan, and practiced becoming one with the shadows. The streetlights made it dicey, but no one stopped me, and I only got a few curious looks.
I made quick work of preparing the Smith &Wesson, tucked it tight to the small of my back, and then strapped on my knife sheath. Prep complete, I made my way back along the path, circumvented the Pierces’ house and the growing crowd of their friends, then headed for the trail behind the cottage. When I spotted the damage from the explosion, I stopped cold. It wasn’t devastating, especially since there was no fire, but there was a huge hole in the wall that would require some serious work to repair. And if Pierce hadn’t jumped clear of the blast, it would have killed him. Rage singed my insides.
Not only had Connor and Grady murdered my parents, and recruited Mitch to spy on me, now they’d hurt Tynan Pierce and were a threat to his family and the purity of the Tuatha Dé Danann community. My need for revenge beat strong.
I concentrated on feeling the ground before I stepped, turned my ESP senses on to high, and considered how best to approach Grady and Connor. If they were still in the living room, I’d enter through Cait’s bedroom window. It would give me an excellent vantage point to listen, see if I could pick up any answers—just in case I had to shoot either or both of them before I had a chance to ask questions.
The bushes in front of me and to the left rustled.
Adrenaline spiked.
I ducked behind a tree, molding my body to the scratchy bark, and the scent of plastic assaulted my nose. Plastic? Why hadn’t the goddesses gifted me with Pierce’s super vision in addition to ESP fingers? It was so dark, I wouldn’t have been able to see at all without the faint light that reached the thicket from Grady’s living room, and that only gave me visibility for a few feet in any direction.
The plastic sounded thick, heavy, and there had to be at least two people, because whispers rode on the breeze.
And then I heard it, the faint sound of a zipper.
TWENTY-SEVEN
IT WAS A BODY BAG. Had to be. What else would be zipping out here in the dark? How had they arrived so quickly? Lorcán only called a few minutes ago. I hadn’t paid attention to the time, but it was possible whoever had packaged Murchadh in his plastic travel gear wasn’t a part of Pierce’s team. I inched closer, listening.
Clouds gathered and the air was heavy with the scent of impending rain. At least whoever was on cleanup detail would be done before the rain hit. Now if I could just get a little closer. I shifted, moved a foot, then leaned toward the low-level voices.
“Pierce.” Yep, I’d heard someone say his name. They had to be his people, which meant I could maybe recruit them for backup.
Except…there was still the question about how the hell they’d gotten here so quickly? Did he have people on retainer all over the world? Possibly. Probably, knowing Pierce. And his people, unlike me, were undoubtedly trained to follow orders without hesitation and a bunch of explanations.
I crept closer.
Three men and one woman surrounded the black bag. The woman appeared to be giving orders, pointing toward a pickup truck that had been outfitted with a dull gray bed cover. They were all busy with their task, so I inched a few feet closer, but still couldn’t make out any distinct words.
I was itching to get inside. Fion and Connor had been alone for far too long, might even have left as soon as they heard the bomb explode. I angled around some bushes for a better view of the driveway. Fion’s car was still there, and it was a sure thing they hadn’t noticed any activity in the far yard, not with how well Pierce’s team had been trained. I wouldn’t have noticed them if I hadn’t known the location of Murchadh’s body.
My foot slipped.
A branch cracked.
The woman looked up, stared in my direction, and then smiled.
Well, damn. It was Annie!
I started to run, managed to stop myself before I’d made a complete mess of the situation. By the time I reached her, the body had been loaded and two of the guys had taken off in the truck. I hugged
Annie, and yeah, if anyone had asked, I’d have been forced to admit there was a hefty dose of desperation in the way I glommed onto my best friend. “What are you doing here? How—”
She backed away, signaled to the man, and he crept toward the house, closing in on Cait’s bedroom window. He was inside before I realized what had happened. I pointed. “Pierce trained him.”
Annie caught my arm, led me farther from the house, and with a firm tug yanked me behind the hedges. “Last to first. Pierce trains everyone who works for him. I hopped a military flight. I’m here at Pierce’s request.”
There was an edge of anger in her words, and my ears filled with a warning roar. “You’re pissed at me.”
“Yes. Do you know how long it’s been since you bothered to check in with me? If it weren’t for Pierce—”
“I was trying to protect you. One of my friends involved in this mess was more than enough, and…” My voice hitched.
“And?” Damn, but Annie had her Mother Voice perfected.
“And Pierce has been hurt.”
Annie tapped the phone attached to her belt. “Got that message. He’s kept me in the loop.”
She didn’t sound even a tiny bit concerned, and it ticked me off. “You need to leave. Get back to Hawaii and Maddie—”
“I don’t think so. I’m surprised you haven’t figured it out yet. I’m one of Pierce’s employees, do jobs for him now and again, and this one has been on my roster from the beginning. We’ve always had your back. Both of us, and Whitney Boulay is on call in Glanmire. The trust shared in our kind of friendship is something you’re still learning, and it’s probably our fault for not letting you know how closely we’ve monitored your situation since Mitch was killed.” She shrugged. “Before that, even, but we’ve been extra-diligent since then. You’re not alone, have never been alone, and never will be. Everly, you saved my life, saved my daughter’s life, and now you need help. Where else would I be?”
a Touch of Revenge (Romantic Mystery - book 6): The Everly Gray Adventures Page 18