Sam shuffled the chair and tried to tug his hands free. Why had the old bat tied him so tight? She was crap at everything else in life so why be a freaking expert at rope play? He kept his voice low and tried to sound calm and reasonable. “Let’s not be hasty. Declan’s not here. Why don’t you put the kettle on and we can have a cup of tea while we wait. Maud made some lovely cookies.”
Clara’s grin sent a shiver down Sam’s spine. “Do I look like I want a feckin’ cup of tea?”
“Whiskey, then?” That was a better plan. Get the mad cow drunk and then Maud could let him free and he’d tie Clara up and call the cops.
Clara kicked a chair across the room and stared at Maud. “Sit your bony arse down and don’t move a muscle. Now, where do you keep the good stuff?”
Sam closed his eyes and said a silent prayer of thanks. Perhaps his plan would work. All he had to do was keep Maud quiet and Clara drinking until she passed out or help arrived. His moment of quiet contemplation was short-lived. The front door banged open and by the sound of it slammed into the hallstand sending Rosalie’s beautiful crystal tumbling to shatter on the slate floor. Sam strained against his bindings as a rush of adrenaline pumped through his blood, making him feel momentarily invincible. Help was at hand. Any minute now they’d be free and Clara would get hers.
Clara grabbed Maud around the throat and dragged the old lady in front of her to use as a human shield. Sam opened his mouth to yell for help but snapped it shut when Clara placed the end of the gun barrel against Maud’s temple.
“Maud? Maud? Where are you? We need to get going. Clara…” The kitchen door swung open and Meg came to a sliding stop.
Sam struggled madly to free himself. His heart raced as Clara shifted the gun. If the bitch did anything to Meg he would rip his arms out of their sockets to get free and kick and bite the fucking mad cow to death. “Meg, for fuck’s sake, run.”
Clara’s cruel laugh filled the kitchen. “Don’t leave on my account. Why don’t ya finish your sentence first? What were ya going to say about me?”
Chapter 38
Michael paused with a pile of Tshirts in hand. He’d heard the phone but assumed Maggie would leave the thing to ring out. Instead, the sound stopped to be replaced by her murmuring. A few moments later cool air blasted up the staircase and then the front door slammed shut. Something gnawed at Michael’s gut. Who’d called and what did they say to make Maggie run out on him? He’d hoped to at least say goodbye. Perhaps she preferred he leave quietly with no poignant farewells. Once he’d finished packing he would call Shamus to come and collect him. No point hanging around. He didn’t want to see Sam any more than Sam probably wanted to see him. Maybe Maggie was right. A clean break would be for the best.
He tossed the Tshirts in his bag and made his way downstairs to collect his other belongings. The kitchen was empty but he heard something. The noise sounded like a distant voice. Perhaps the voice was God himself sending Michael a message. Perhaps he been called to the priesthood and this was his Damascus Road moment. He followed the sound and grinned. Or, alternatively, Maggie had failed to hang up the phone. He lifted the handset and held the thing far enough from his ear to listen without going deaf. Brigit not only had a fine pair of tits but apparently the good Lord had also blessed her with a large pair of lungs. “Brigit.”
“Michael. Oh God, Michael.”
He chuckled. “No need to call me God. What has you bellowing like a fishwife?”
“It’s Clara. The woman’s mad. She’s completely insane.”
“Clara?”
“She came here. She took Brett.” Brigit sobbed, and Michael felt like his heart had sunk to his stomach.
“Take a deep breath, darlin’, and tell me what happened.”
“Clara’s got a gun. She told Brett to show her where Declan was staying with his whore. They’ve been gone ages. She told me not to say a word to anyone and not to call the garda or Brett would pay the price. She promised he would be fine and she’d send him back but he’s not here. I wanted to follow them but I was worried she would see me, and now if I go out I might miss him.”
The realization that Brigit had conveyed the same information to Maggie and she had run from the house without a word made his blood run cold. Maggie must have gone to warn Maud before Clara arrived.
“How long ago did they leave?”
“I dunno, twenty minutes?”
“Are you at the café?”
“Aye.”
“In this weather it’s a good fifteen minute walk each way. I’ll go and look for him but I’m sure he’s fine. She’s not wanting to hurt your child. Now go and watch out for him.”
Michael hung up before she had a chance to answer. He hoped he was right about Clara. The woman was unbalanced but she had never lashed out at someone she didn’t think deserved it, until now. He only stopped long enough to tug his coat off the peg. Clara might not be interested in harming Brett, but he had no doubt Maud and Declan were high on her list of people to kill or maim. And he also had no doubt Maggie had gone running to Maud to try and save the woman without any consideration for her own safety. She should have called him. She should have trusted him. He slammed the front door shut and ground his teeth. Clara was his responsibility, and if she so much as harmed a hair on anyone’s head he would make sure they locked her up and tossed away the key. Maggie should never have gone alone. If she died … if she died … tears stung his eyes and he dashed them away with the back of his hand. With a growl, he launched himself off the front step.
The compacted snow on the front path had turned to ice, and he had to grab the gatepost to save himself from a tumble. He’d be no good to anyone with a broken leg. With long strides he crossed to stand in front of the property and scanned the area. Dark smoke belched from the chimney of the other cottage. Apparently someone was home, but were they still alive or had Clara dispatched them all? Where the fuck had Sam gone? Brigit hadn’t mentioned him on the phone so he couldn’t be at the café. If he found him they could split up. One of them might be able to rescue Meg and the other find Brett. He dithered for a moment and a dark blob behind the hedgerow caught his eye. The shape moved. “Lad, is that you?”
A face appeared. “Shh.”
“What are you doin’? Your ma is beside herself with worrying about you.”
“I’m collecting evidence.”
“Of what, exactly?”
“For the garda. That crazy woman held a gun to my head and now she’s gone inside that cottage. I need to be able to tell the police everything.”
Michael climbed over the hedge and tugged the lad to his feet. “You’ll be telling them nothing if you don’t get back to your ma.”
“But I want to help. I’m going to be a policeman one day.”
Michael stared at the lad. Five-feet-ten and thin as a stick. He’d never hold his own in a fight, and Brigit would want his balls if anything happened to Brett.
“Best thing you can do is go back to the café and tell your ma to call the police.”
“But with two of us we would be able to overpower her.”
“I’ve got everything covered. She’ll listen to me but I’m going to need help. Can you run back and fetch the cops?”
Brett sighed. “But I was the one she kidnapped.”
“And you were the one she let go. She’s looking for my uncle. Once she finds him she might calm down, and if not we can’t do this alone.”
“She said she’d kill everyone inside if she saw the cops.”
Michael’s heart thumped. “How many people does she have in there?”
“I snuck up and looked through the kitchen window. She’s got an old lady and a younger man is tied to a chair. Another woman went inside a few minutes ago.”
“Fuck!” He put his hands on his head. Maggie. Fuck.
Brett stared up at him. “Are you all right?”
“Do I sound all right? Get back to the café and call the garda.”
“What are you
going to do?”
“I dunno yet. Go. Go.”
Brett took off at a jog, and Michael hunkered down behind the hedge. Even if the lad ran all the way to the café, help would be at least half an hour away. He guessed the man trussed up inside was Sam, which left him alone. The whole mess was down to him. He’d brought Sam and Maggie to Ireland, and Clara was his responsibility.
He got to his feet and straightened his coat. Like it or not, he had to go inside and pray to God a plan would pop into his head.
Chapter 39
Meg stared at the pistol waving in her direction and raised her hands. The color had drained from Maud’s face. Even with the copious amount of makeup she wore she looked pale and drawn. Being held by a nutter wasn’t good for the elderly. She might have a heart attack and die. Meg held back a sob at the thought of Maud not being around anymore. What the fuck had she been thinking running around here? She should have called the cops or something. Brigit knew Clara was on the warpath but no one knew Clara had them all held at gunpoint.
“Let Maud go.”
Clara chuckled. “When hell freezes over or that feckless piece of shite I married comes and shows his sorry self. Then I can do them both at once.”
“If you injure Maud I’ll never forgive you.”
“Oh, I’m scared … not.” Clara cackled
Meg glanced at Sam. Why was he just sitting there? Why didn’t he help? The flash of red cord caught her eye as Sam started struggling. A sharp pain speared through her heart and her head. Clara had him tied up. Had she hurt him? “If you’ve laid a finger on him I’ll kill you.”
“Little spitfire, aren’t you? So you fond of the lad, are ya? What if I trade you him for the old lady?” She pressed the gun against Maud’s head. “You can take him and walk away and I do what I like with this old slut.”
“Take me. Let them both go and take me instead.”
Sam struggled against his bindings. “Shut up, Meg.”
“Don’t you tell me to shut up. Your bad temper won’t help. You have nothing to say that I want to hear.”
“And you’re not risking yourself for Maud or anyone else.”
“Who died and put you in charge?”
Clara fired a shot into the ceiling. The boom ricocheted around the room and Meg flinched when chunks of plaster bounced off the table.
“If you two have finished, you might like to remember why we’re here.”
Meg took a deep breath. Apparently Clara wasn’t scared to pull the trigger. She didn’t want to argue with Sam. She wanted them all to be free. What a mess. If they all died, Sam would never know she had forgiven him.
She glanced at Sam. “I’m sorry.”
Sam’s smile never made it to his eyes. “Me too, baby.”
Of the three of them, she was the only one Clara didn’t have restrained, but she couldn’t overpower her on her own, especially not when the crazy bitch had a gun. Didn’t the police try and negotiate with hostage takers? She used to work in marketing; surely she could sell Clara a deal that got them all out of the mess unharmed. “Where’s Declan?”
Clara shrugged. “Same thing I want to know, but no one’s tellin’ me.”
Maud whispered, “Dublin. He went to Dublin with Rosalie.”
Meg put her hands down and took a step toward Clara. If there wasn’t going to be a quick resolution, they all needed to calm down. “How about a cup of tea? Then we can sit and wait for him.” Meg noticed the cookies in the middle of the table. Some plaster dust had settled on them but it wouldn’t kill them. “And cookies. Maud makes great cookies.”
Clara growled. “Why the feck do you people all want tea and cookies. This is not a feckin’ garden party at Buckingham Palace.”
“I just thought if we have to wait we might as well be comfortable. You can’t stand there all afternoon. Can you?”
“Whiskey.”
Meg frowned. “What?”
Clara shoved Maud toward her. “Sit down, both of you. We’ll be drinkin’ whiskey.”
Maud collapsed on to the nearest seat, and Meg smiled as brightly as she could. A small concession. She was making progress. “And Sam?”
“Stays exactly where he is. Men are not to be trusted.”
Michael crept around the side of the house. Hopefully they were all still in the kitchen. If he went in through the front door Clara would hear him. She might even think he was Declan and blow his brains out before he attempted to resolve the situation. He glanced at his watch. Brett was right about Clara. If she knew the cops were coming she was likely to do something really stupid. By his calculations he had a maximum of twenty minutes to secure the gun and defuse the situation before they could show up.
Hunkering down, he crawled under the kitchen window. Silence. Nothing. He risked rising and peering over the windowsill. The scene inside had him confused. Other than the gun in Clara’s hand it looked like a bleedin’ tea party. A plate of cookies was in the middle of the table. Clara sat to the left next to Maud; Maggie sat facing the window with Sam to her right. What looked to be Rosalie’s best tea service was set out in front of them. The only incongruent thing was the bottle. As he watched, Maggie lifted the whiskey and filled up the teacups. She glanced at the window, and he put a finger to his lips. Her gaze drifted to Sam, and when she picked up his cup and put it to his lips Michael took a closer look. No wonder the poor bugger wasn’t doing anything to overpower Clara, he was tied to the chair just as Brett had said.
Clara shifted in her seat, lifting the gun, and Michael ducked down out of sight. So, he had Maggie and Maud free to help him. He might as well be alone. In fact, having Maud involved in anything made it worse than being alone. No matter what he did, he risked a stray bullet hitting someone. Fuck. He couldn’t risk Maggie getting injured. If he could free Sam, he was a big boy and could take care of himself, and Maud had lived a long and energetic life. But Maggie needed his protection. He’d hurt her one too many times already.
On hands and knees, he crawled further around the building. Clear of the window, he climbed to his feet. A coal bunker sat against the outside wall. He looked up and grinned. The main bedroom window. Now all he needed to do was get the bloody thing open without alerting Clara.
He stepped onto the concrete bunker and grabbed a handy downpipe, testing it a couple of times before trusting it to hold his weight. Toes wedged between the pipe and the wall, he caught the windowsill with his fingertips and scrabbled upward. Splinters bit into his hand, but he shoved the pain aside as he managed to get his butt to window height. With a grunt he twisted and swiveled to rest his rear end on the wide window ledge. And his da had said his bad boy ways would lead him into trouble, and he should put his energies into something more useful. All those bedrooms he’d fled via the window had been his training ground for this very moment.
He shoved his fingers under the sash and pushed the window up. Thankfully, it slid without a sound. Apparently Aunt Rosalie had never heard of window locks and for that he would be eternally grateful.
After swinging his legs inside, he stood and slid the window shut. The layout of the house was the same as their own. Conversation drifted up the open staircase. Michael took a deep breath, shoved his hair back, and prepared himself to face Clara. Maybe she’d be too drunk to notice his arrival.
He stepped onto the staircase. The boom of the gun being discharged made him falter, and he grasped at the handrail as he slipped two steps before he caught himself. His heart raced. No one was screaming. Had the bullet silenced them forever? He took the stairs two at a time. Maggie, fuck. If Clara had harmed Maggie he’d take the gun off her and shove it up her arse before he pulled the trigger, and that was just for starters.
Chapter 40
Meg squealed and put her hands over her ears. The woman looked insane, and now she was drunk and insane. Plying her with drink had been the wrong move. Someone needed to talk some sense into the woman, and she was the only one with any training in regards to the human psyche. Sh
ame she wasn’t trying to sell her a holiday to the Seychelles or a two for one deal on toilet paper. No matter, she had to try, but first she needed to get Clara to listen and stop shooting at things.
Meg removed her hands and glared at Clara. “Will you stop doing that? Violence isn’t the way to deal with problems.”
Clara banged her fist on the table. “Violence works for me. The next time the bitch opens her mouth I’ll blow her feckin’ brains out.”
Maud folded her arms and glared at Clara. “I’m trying to help. I have a certain talent in the bedroom department, and if you can’t keep a man satisfied perhaps I can give you some tips. You might start by trying to dress like a woman. No man wants to screw a marine unless he’s gay.”
“Aunt Maud, shut the fuck up.”
“How about I shut her the feck up?” Clara got to her feet, grabbed Maud by the throat and lifted her until the old lady started turning blue.
With a howl, Meg launched herself at the mad cow. No one was going to kill Maud if she could help it. The whole thing was going horribly wrong. Perhaps she should try another tack, or maybe Clara was right, and they should resort to violence. Meg glanced around the room looking for a weapon, but a soft moan brought her attention back to Maud. She wasn’t breathing. God, she wasn’t breathing. No time for a weapon, she would have to try hand-to-hand combat. Meg grabbed Clara and lifted her other hand ready to karate chop her throat.
“Don’t, Meg! Don’t.” Sam’s scream brought her to a stop with a hand still wrapped around Clara’s arm. Clara shrugged her off and gave her a shove, sending her tripping backward across the room just as the door burst open.
With a hideous grin that curled her lips back from the stumps that used to be her teeth, Clara gave Maud a shake like a rag doll and tossed her aside. Meg regained her balance and found herself staring down the barrel of the gun.
She barely heard the shout of “No!” before a warm body slammed into her, sending her sprawling. Her head hit the stone floor, sending pain spiraling through her brain. At the same moment all the air was expelled from her lungs and she found herself pinned beneath someone. Gunfire exploded and the body above her jerked.
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