by Myla Jackson
Mack eased into the building and snuck up on the big man as he turned toward a stone staircase. When Mack was close enough, he barreled into the man’s shoulder. The big guy pitched sideways and his head slammed into the ancient stone wall with a dull thud.
He slipped to the ground, out cold. Quickly, Mack removed the man’s tie from around his neck, rolled the man onto his belly and jerked his arms up behind him. Using the tie, he bound the man’s wrists together. If he woke up in time, he wouldn’t be of any assistance to the smaller guy. Mack grabbed his gun from where he’d dropped it on the ground.
A scream echoed through the walls of the castle.
Mack abandoned the unconscious man and ran for the door. Another scream sent him running toward the building at the far south corner of the grounds. When he burst through the doorway, he found Deirdre in the clutches of the smaller man. He held her by her glorious red hair, tugging back viciously while holding a gun to her temple.
“Mack!” she cried. “Jasuz, Mary and Joseph! I thought you were gone.”
His lips twitched despite the gravity of the situation. Deirdre made every word she spoke sound like music.
“Stay back, or I’ll kill her!” the Traveler shouted.
“You’re going to die either way,” Mack warned him.
“Perhaps, but not before yer girl dies.” He jammed the barrel into the side of Deirdre’s head so hard she winced.
“Get out, Mack,” Deirdre begged. “I’ll be okay.”
He knew better than to let the bad guy take her. He’d kill her as soon as he had safe passage out of the castle. Mack refused to let him by. “Give it up. Too many people have seen you now. If you kill her, there will only be more who can identify you as the murderer you are.”
“Are you deaf? Move or the girl dies.”
“You’ll have to kill me first, because if you shoot her, I’ll be on you so fast you won’t know what hit you. And you won’t like how much pain I’ll inflict before I let you die.” He worked his way closer. “Oh, and in case you think you’re covered, your buddy is out cold and tied up like the pig he is. He won’t be coming to help you.”
The man’s brows narrowed and he glanced past Mack as if to verify. His gaze returned to Mack and he yanked harder on Deirdre’s hair.
She squeaked and stood on her toes to ease the strain on her roots.
Mack banked on the man shooting him first. As soon as the hand holding the gun shifted forward, Mack dove to the right.
A shot rang out and pain zipped through his side.
Chapter Nine
Deirdre’s heart jumped when the gun went off beside her. She’d seen the barrel turn right before the man pulled the trigger. Rage blasted through her that this man would shoot Mack.
She cocked her elbow and twisted hard, ignoring the pain in her scalp. She’d lose every hair on her head before she let Mack die. Her elbow landed dead center in the man’s solar plexus.
He jerked, loosened his grip on her hair and Deirdre sprang free.
When he turned the gun on her, she didn’t have time to react.
And she didn’t have to.
Mack lurched to his feet and plowed into the man’s side, knocking him over. The gun went off, the bullet going wide of its target.
The men rolled on the ground until Mack got the upper hand and pinned the bad guy beneath him.
The shooter angled the gun toward Mack’s face.
Deirdre’s breath caught and held as she rushed forward and kicked the gun so hard it flew out of the man’s grip and clattered against a stone wall ten feet away.
Her attacker grabbed Mack’s throat and squeezed.
His face turning red, Mack punched the man in the face until he went limp, blood squirting out of his nose.
Rolling to the side, Mack stared up at Deirdre. “Thanks.” For a moment he lay there, breathing in enough air to fill his lungs, then he struggled to sit up and yanked the man’s tie from around his throat.
Deirdre helped roll her attacker over and held his wrists together as Mack tied them securely.
When he was done, the marine dropped to the ground, pressing his hand into his side. “Have someone call the police and an ambulance.” He lay on his back on the ground and immediately passed out.
That’s when Deirdre spotted the blood staining Mack’s shirt and pooling on the stones beneath him.
Her stomach lurched as she scrambled to her feet and ran for help.
The man in the tourist shop was talking to a uniformed member of the Garda and pointing in Deirdre’s direction.
“Please help me,” she cried. “Call for an ambulance, now!” She spun and ran back to the courtyard where she’d left Mack. Her hands trembled as she shook off her sweater and yanked open her shirt, stripping it from her shoulders. She tore the hem with her teeth and ripped it up the middle, folding one side into a tight square.
Kneeling beside Mack, she laid the square of fabric over the wound and pressed firmly to staunch the bleeding. “Bloody hell, ya can’t die on me now. Ya feckin’ better live. I’m not done with ya.”
Mack’s lips curled up and his eyes blinked open then closed again. “Anyone ever tell you that you’re beautiful when you’re mad?”
“Feckin’ right, I’m mad. Pullin’ an idiot stunt like that. Darin’ the fool to shoot ya.”
“It worked, didn’t it?”
Keeping a firm hand on his wound, she cupped his cheek with the other. “Jeekers, Mary and Margaret. You could have been killed.” She glanced down at his wound. “You might still die if someone doesn’t get the feckin’ ambulance here!” The last half of the sentence she yelled over her shoulder, angry that she couldn’t do more. If she moved her hand, he’d bleed to death.
“Aren’t you Deirdre Darcy?” The uniformed member of the Garda appeared beside her.
“Don’t go there if ya know what’s good for ya,” she warned.
“It’s just that I’m a huge fan.” He glanced down at Mack’s pale face and wiped the smile from his lips. “Want me to take over?”
“Feck no!” she stated. “I’ll only turn him over to proper medical staff.” She nodded to the man tied up on the ground. “You should be takin’ care of that one there. He tried to kill my man.”
The Garda rolled the man over. “A Traveler, is he?”
“Yes. And if you’ll contact the Dublin Garda, you’ll discover that he committed a murder two nights ago.” Deirdre glanced around. “He had an accomplice around here somewhere. Mack said he’d put him out of commission.”
“I’d say this one isn’t doin’ anyone harm the way his is now.” The Garda left the man on the ground and went in search of the other. He emerged from a nearby building as a siren’s wail entered the gate of the castle.
Soon two emergency medical technicians arrived, carrying a stretcher. They set it down alongside Mack. “We’ll take over from here.”
One of the men pushed her hand aside, lifted the square of fabric and checked the wound, while the other checked Mack’s vital signs and fixed an oxygen mask over his face.
More Garda arrived as the two attackers regained consciousness. The uniformed men helped them to their feet and marched them out of the castle.
A single member of the Garda remained behind with Deirdre and the EMS. He gathered her sweater from the ground. “Miss Darcy, ya might want to wear this, or you’ll catch yer death in this mist.”
She hadn’t even noticed the falling mist as it mingled with tears trickling down her cheeks, or the fact she’d been half-naked as men came into and left the castle grounds. Shoving her arms into the sweater, she buttoned it over her bra and hugged herself, the cold seeping through to her bones.
“Is he going to be okay?” she whispered.
“His pulse is strong and his blood pressure is steady.”
“Yes, but is he going to be okay?” she persisted.
“He should be, God willin’.” The paramedics rolled him onto the stretcher and carried him out to th
e waiting ambulance.
“I’m going with him,” Deirdre stated. It wasn’t a question and the ambulance personnel didn’t argue. Instead, they handed her up into the back of the ambulance. She perched on a seat out of their way, her focus on Mack all the way to the hospital in Clonmel, thirteen kilometers away from Cahir.
As they unloaded Mack at the emergency entrance, she waited beside the ambulance.
The medical personnel wheeled him in on a stretcher. Deirdre walked beside him, holding his hand.
Mack’s eyes blinked open. “Where are we?” he said into the mask covering his mouth.
Deirdre smiled down at him. “At the hospital.”
“I must have fallen asleep. Someone kept me awake last night.”
“These kind gentlemen are going to take you to surgery.” She hated to let go of his hand, but she wasn’t allowed any farther into the hospital than she was.
“Will you be here when I come out?” he asked.
“Yes.”
He closed his eyes. “Good. I have something I want to say.”
“It can wait.”
The hospital staff wheeled him through a door marked authorized personnel only, and Mack disappeared.
What felt like hours later but by the clock had only been about forty-five minutes, a doctor emerged with blood on his white smock. “Are you a relative of Mr. Magnus?”
“No. But I’m the only one he’s got here.”
“He’s lost a lot of blood, but we got the bullet and stopped the bleeding. He should be fine in a couple days.”
A flood of relief made her legs wobble. “Thank you.”
When the doctor turned to leave, she laid a hand on his arm. “When can I see him?”
“When he’s awake. The nurses are settling him into a room. It shouldn’t be long.”
“Thank you.” Deirdre paced the waiting room, counting the minutes until she could see for herself that Mack was okay.
A ruckus in the hallway made her turn.
“Where is he?” a deep, male voice demanded.
“Sir, Miss Darcy is in the waiting room, perhaps she can give you an update while I find the physician.”
Her heart warming, Deirdre hurried out into the hallway.
Sam, Ronin, Wyatt, Abby and Fiona were headed her way.
She fell into their arms, the tears she’d held back flowing freely.
Fiona and Abby hugged her tight. Sam, Ronin and Wyatt gathered around and joined the hug.
Wyatt broke away first. “What happened? The last thing we knew was that you two were making a break from Castle O’Leary. We got here as fast as we could. Mom and Dad waited in Dublin in case they could be of assistance to the Garda. They are on their way now.”
Deirdre gave them the short version of their escape from the B-and-B and the fiasco on the train. She ended with her attempt to lose the killers on the grounds of Cahir Castle, only for Mack to end up shot in the belly. “The doctor assures me he’ll be all right. He’s in recovery now. Hopefully, they’ll let us see him soon.”
Sam shook his head. “I’d have paid good money to see the showdown in the castle. Trust Mack to make it a new page in the history book.”
“I’m just glad he survived.” Deirdre collapsed into a chair and buried her face in her hands. “It’s all my fault.”
Abby sat on one side of Deirdre.
Fiona sat in the chair on the other side and tugged her hands away from her face. “How’s this your fault? You didn’t plan on bumping into killers after they’d offed one of their own.”
Ronin dropped to his haunches beside her. “And you couldn’t have stopped Mack from volunteering to be your bodyguard. He’d have done it regardless.”
Sam nodded. “I saw how he looked at you. The man has it bad.”
Deirdre sniffed and glanced up at Sam. “Bad?”
“I’d say. He’s pretty well stuck on you.”
“How could he be…stuck on me? He’s only known me three days. One when he volunteered to be my bodyguard.”
Abby smiled. “Didn’t Mack tell you? Our parents fell in love on their first date.”
Wyatt added, “I fell in love with Fiona the first time I saw her and pulled her dripping wet out of the San Antonio River.”
Fiona smiled and reached for Wyatt’s hand. “It took some convincing for me to believe him.” Her smile broadened. “And here we are. Married.”
Deirdre sat up straighter. “Jeekers! You’re missin’ your honeymoon!”
Wyatt patted Fiona’s hand. “We agreed we couldn’t enjoy it not knowing whether you two were going to be okay. As soon as Mack’s out of the woods, we’re flying out of here to Crete for some R-and-R on a sandy beach.”
“Excuse me.” The young lady dressed similarly to the one who’d talked to them in the hallway stood in the doorway to the waiting room. “Are you Mack Magnus’s family?”
Everyone, even Deirdre answered with a resounding “Yes!”
“He’s awake and bellowing for someone named Deirdre.” When Deirdre stepped forward, the woman’s eyes widened and she clapped a hand to her mouth. “Jeekers! You’re the Deirdre he’s callin’ for?”
Deirdre nodded. “I think so.”
The woman flapped her hand to cool her reddened cheeks. “My sister is never goin’ to believe this. Come with me.”
“Hey, what about us? We’re his family too,” Sam said.
“Well then, what’s keepin’ ya?” the young woman snapped, tempering her words with a smile. “Move, move, move. I have work to do, ya know.”
The six of them crowded into Mack’s room where he lay on the bed, his eyes closed, some of the color back in his cheeks.
Ronin whispered, “I thought they said he was awake.”
“He is, doofus.” Sam elbowed Ronin in the ribs. “He’s just playin’ us for sympathy.”
“How could I be asleep with all of you stomping into my room like a herd of elephants?” Mack opened his eyes and grinned. “Damned glad you could make it.”
“We came as soon as you called. It just takes time to get here from Cashel.”
Deirdre frowned. “I thought you were stayin’ in Dublin.”
“We figured on seeing a little of the Irish countryside while we were here, and that closer was better if Mack needed backup.” Sam tipped his head toward Mack. “Which it appears he did.”
Mack reached for Deirdre’s hand. “I had backup. You should have seen Deirdre slam an elbow in the gunman’s gut.”
Sam’s brows rose. “She did that?” He let out a long sigh. “I’m in love.”
“Back off,” Mack said with a little more force.
“The way I see it, she’s not spoken for and therefore fair game.” Sam slipped an arm around Deirdre’s waist. “What do you say to you and me?”
Deirdre laughed and shook her head. She’d had a talk with Sam. He’d told her that he loved to tease his brother and that he knew her feelings for Mack and that his flirting wasn’t going anywhere.
Apparently Mack wasn’t certain his brother was only teasing. He pushed to a sitting position, wincing. “Goddamn it, Sam.”
Sam dropped his arm, the smile slipping from his face. “Mack, you shouldn’t move around so soon after surgery. You gotta give yourself time to heal.”
“Then get your stinkin’ paws off my girl.”
Deirdre’s pulse quickened at Mack’s proprietary words. Though secretly thrilled, she couldn’t let him throw out words like that without securing her agreement first. “Your girl?” She propped a fist on her hip. “Since when am I anyone’s property but my own?”
“Whoa, Mack, you should know better than to piss off a redhead,” Wyatt said.
“After last night, I thought—” Mack collapsed against the bed and grimaced. “Fuck! That hurts.”
Deirdre softened and laid her hand on his arm. “Listen to your brothers. You need to heal. We can talk later.”
Mack reached for her hand, capturing it in his. “I don’t want to wait
until later.” He glared at his brothers. “Can a guy get a little privacy?”
Wyatt laughed and popped a salute. “Leaving.” He grabbed Sam’s arm and jerked him toward the door. “Let him have some time to grovel.”
“We’re brothers,” Sam protested. “We’re supposed to give him hell.”
“Another time.” Ronin took Sam’s other arm and between him and Wyatt they dragged Sam out of the room, followed by Abby.
Fiona lagged behind, her brow furrowed. “You two be smart about this. Life’s too short to lose out on love because you think you haven’t known each other long enough or won’t be around each other enough. Trust me. That’s what I thought, until I met Wyatt. If you want something bad enough, you find a way.” With that, she left the room and closed the door behind her.
Mack tugged her closer, until Deirdre had to either sit on the bed or lie on top of him. Because of his injury, she scooted onto the bed beside him. “You really should get some rest. A gunshot wound is nothing to be feckin’ with.”
Mack’s mouth curved. “I love it when your uptown polish slips.”
“I’ll have ya know, I worked hard for my polish. For nearly ten years, I rarely said a curse word. Then you showed up and the killers and…and…I fell in love and now my life is fecked to hell.” She sagged. “What am I goin’ ta do?”
“Marry me,” Mack blurted. “Holy shit. I said that out loud, didn’t I?”
“Damn sure did.” Deirdre’s heart fluttered, but she didn’t let her hopes rise too high. “You shouldn’t say things like that when yer fecked up on pain killers.”
“I’m not fecked—I didn’t let them dope me up and my side is killing me. I wanted my head to be clear when I saw you again.”
“Why? So you can say any fool thing that comes to your head, whether you mean it or not?” She tried to get off the bed, but his hand on her arm kept there. “What do ya want from me? I have my life, you have yours. We’re not suited.”
“You’re half-right.”
“About which part?”
“About each of us having our own lives. But you’re very wrong about us not being suited for each other.” He pulled her closer until she had to plant her hands on either side of his head to keep from toppling over on him and reinjuring his wound.