“If he threatened Da into confessing, then why almost kill my brothers? Wouldn’t he worry Da would tell the Garda the truth?” I asked, my pulse racing.
“It could’ve been our suspect’s way of further scaring your father into silence,” Xander said, and I turned to look at him.
“There’s no one you know with the skills to pull all . . .” Alexa’s words dropped at the sound of a pinging noise coming from her laptop. “Give me a second.” She sat back at the desk and began working at the keys.
Jake looked over her shoulder. “Were you right?”
“Right about what?” I bit down on my back teeth and stepped closer.
“Callaghan was under investigation by the Fraud Squad at the location in Cork.” She peered at me from over her shoulder. “AKA, the Garda National Economic Crime Bureau. There was an active investigation looking into him for racketeering and financial corruption, among other crimes.”
“And what happened?” I swallowed.
“The case was closed on March first. Not enough evidence, but according to the lead detective, he believed Callaghan paid someone off to shut it down. His notes suggest Sebastian Renaud may have helped him out.”
“Shit.” My body tensed. “There’s more, though, isn’t there?”
She nodded. “Your father was being looked at, too. But the case was only open for two weeks before it was shut down.”
“When?” I asked.
She focused on the screen again. “The case was opened on March seventeenth by Detective McCaffrey. Closed on April third.”
“March seventeenth? That was a week after Da’s heart attack.” I rubbed at my forehead. “Who was the detective again?”
“Peter McCaffrey.” She worked at her keys. “But, um . . .”
“What?” I crossed the short space between us to get a better view of her screen.
“McCaffrey was forced to take personal leave on April second.”
“And my father’s case was closed the next day?” That couldn’t be a coincidence.
“Yeah.” Alexa stood again and turned toward us, and I could tell by the hard look in her eyes she figured something out. “But I think I know what happened.”
I couldn’t take this. I was on the verge of a heart attack myself. “What?”
She let go of a breath. “There was a car accident. And well, I’m pretty sure McCaffrey blames your father for his wife and daughter’s deaths.”
“I still can’t believe I was near this motherfucker today.” I stared at the screen, unable to process the fact I’d been meters away from McCaffrey, so close to the man who had Anna.
I’d been hell-bent on wanting to blame Renaud, and McCaffrey had walked right past me at the Garda station.
I wanted to kill the son of a bitch.
“Why the hell are the Garda taking so long to get back to us about this new lead?” I looked at Jake and Xander who were gearing up as if ready for an attack.
I hated this. Hated every fecking thing about it.
“You any closer to triangulating a position from the calls and messages McCaffrey made to Callaghan? If he’s at that location now, Anna will hopefully be there, too.” Jake strapped a gun near his ankle, and then he hid it with his cargo pants.
“I’ve got it narrowed down, but the search area is still too wide,” she replied.
Of all people, we were dealing with a detective who specialized in economic and cybercrimes. I still couldn’t wrap my head around the fact a detective had been posing as one of Renaud’s limo drivers. And it’d been him to supply Callaghan with the blackmail, using Lenny, among others, to throw us off his tracks.
“Are we sure Renaud’s not part of this as opposed to another tool used by McCaffrey?” I asked.
“Someone like Renaud would have nothing to gain and everything to lose,” she began. “Renaud runs an empire—he’s not exactly responsible for hiring his drivers and such.”
She took a moment to let me digest the information.
“His assistant said Renaud isn’t the easiest man to work for, and so, she was constantly dealing with a rotating door of employees,” she added.
“And the assistant didn’t find it odd when Callaghan personally requested this new driver—McCaffrey—for his trip this time to Dublin?” Jake asked.
“Apparently not,” Alexa answered.
“So, McCaffrey loses his wife and daughter in a car accident, and then immediately goes back to work that Monday?” Who the hell does that? “And then uses his resources at his job to try and figure out who was to blame for the accident?”
No way did Da run McCaffrey’s family off the road and just drive away.
No damn way.
“The guy became unhinged when he lost his family. He had one mission in mind: revenge,” Jake said for the second time in the last twenty minutes, repeating his words since nothing seemed to be sticking with me.
I was beginning to lose it. Hell, maybe I already had lost it.
“Just because Da was driving a similar vehicle within a few kilometers of where McCaffrey said the accident happened, doesn’t make Da a murderer.” I gritted my teeth.
“I agree, but he clearly needed someone to blame,” Alexa said softly. “And within a few days of being back at work, he launched the bogus racketeering case against your father as a way to get the court-ordered surveillance to help enact his plans.”
“But then he was forced to take personal leave,” Jake said.
“Which maybe, if they’d done from the beginning, none of this would’ve happened,” she replied.
“McCaffrey had already been investigating Callaghan and was pissed the case got closed. He knew everything about the man, which was how he knew to target Renaud as his way in to get to Callaghan,” she explained. “Since Callaghan’s predictable and always uses Renaud’s hotels, drivers, and so forth—it’d be the logical choice for McCaffrey.”
“Plus, he blamed Renaud for making the Callaghan case go away,” Xander added. “McCaffrey may even have plans for Renaud, too.”
I closed my eyes, a memory rising to the surface and guilt came with it.
My fingertips went to my eyes, and I applied pressure there, seeing little dots. “The Garda questioned Da about his whereabouts the night of his heart attack right after surgery since he owned a red Lamborghini. I vaguely remembered hearing about that accident on the news, too.” A lone survivor of a tragedy. Peter McCaffrey, a resident of Cork . . . “That’s why the limo driver looked familiar to me at the station. I’d seen his face on the news.” I cursed under my breath. “It’s a strong motive, and it didn’t come to mind.”
“No, man, don’t blame yourself,” Jake said. “We’re going to get her back and alive. I wouldn’t be prepping for a rescue if I didn’t believe that.”
“Yeah,” I said under my breath. “But what if Anna’s already dead?” I didn’t want to think those words, let alone say them, but it was a possible truth. The ugliest truth imaginable.
McCaffrey was out for blood. Vengeance. And he’d planned an elaborate scheme to destroy my family since he believed my father got away with murder.
“We already know he’s capable of killing,” I said, thinking about Callaghan.
“And now that we know McCaffrey’s also such a heartless bastard since he investigated his own brother-in-law and put him in—”
“The brother-in-law!” Alexa cut off Jake. “Shit. McCaffrey doesn’t have a place in Dublin, but the brother-in-law does. His home is just outside the city. It’d be empty since he’s in prison.”
“Where’s it at?” Jake stood behind her as she zoomed in on a map.
“Two kilometers from one of the cell towers we got a hit on from a text sent to Callaghan.” She pointed at the screen. “I think Anna’s there.”
Chapter Thirteen
Anna
“You can’t do it, can you?” I tugged at the zip ties pinning my wrists to the headboard of the bed. A waste of effort. “You can’t kill me.”
My legs weren’t tied down, but my wrists ached from rubbing against the plastic as I fought to get free over and over again.
“You’re a means to an end.” He was pacing alongside the bed, gun in hand.
I’d barely been in the same room with him all day, thank God, but I was pretty sure I now knew why.
“The woman in the photo with that man—she’s someone special to you, right?”
He stopped walking and averted his eyes toward the picture of a man with his arm draped over the shoulder of a blonde woman at his side. “Don’t talk about my wife,” he hissed and rubbed the butt of the gun to his forehead. His right arm flexed, the muscle straining against the fabric of his white sleeve.
“I look like her.” His wife had the same hair as me. The same green eyes. Even bone structure.
I wasn’t sure what he’d been doing all day, and honestly, I didn’t want to know, but I had to find a way to keep myself alive. To talk myself out of this. At least, to buy time until Adam could get to me. Because he would find me. I knew it. He always came through.
I had to believe everything would be okay.
I loved Adam so much, and so this couldn’t be it for us. We’d been through too much for it to end on a day we were supposed to say our vows.
“You don’t have to be a killer.”
“I believe in justice.” He turned and faced me, his eyes thinning as he observed me.
“But what’d I do to you? What’d I do to deserve this?” I tried to fight the tremble in my tone.
He edged closer to the bed and cocked his head. “I’ve always played by the rules.” His voice was low and deep. “My brother-in-law,” he began while pointing the muzzle of the gun toward the picture on the wall, “was no exception.” He lightly shook his head. “He committed fraud, and so, I was the first to lead the investigation and make the arrest.”
Oh, God.
“The guilty must be punished.”
“But what am I guilty of?” I lifted my chin, pinning my eyes to his.
He lowered his arm, gun still in hand, and kept his face pointed my way. “You know how many rich arseholes I’ve witnessed buying themselves out of trouble?” He tsked. “No justice. No punishment.”
I had no idea what the hell he was talking about, but as long as I kept him talking, I didn’t give a damn.
My gaze veered to the open doorway, clinging to the hope Adam would somehow appear—that if I focused on the visual of him arriving hard enough, it’d happen.
His jaw clenched. “I’m tired of it. Tired of the very system I work for letting these criminals go.” His eyes thinned. “But McGregor—he stole everything from me. My wife. Daughter. Job.”
“What?” I sucked in sharp breaths, my chest hurting from such deep inhalations. “Adam would never . . .”
“Adam’s father killed them,” he bit back.
Killed? My stomach tucked in at his words. At his grief-stricken motive for taking me.
“His sons are no better.” He took a step away from the bed and arched his shoulders back before cracking his neck from side to side. “They’ll become like him if I let it happen.”
“I don’t understand,” I sputtered.
“And why would you?” He started pacing again. “You’re marrying one of them. Well, you were going to.”
“I don’t know what happened, but you don’t have to do this.” Any last thread of strength I’d been clinging to was starting to slip, realizing death was imminent. “Please,” I tried one more time.
“No.” He faced me. “You have to die. McGregor has to suffer for what he did. He needs to rot in prison while I take everything from him, starting with taking his favorite son’s fiancée.” He clicked off the safety and raised his arm.
I squeezed my eyes closed, but after moments of silence, I looked to find the gun at his side.
Had he changed his mind?
Hope climbed inside of me, but then a gut-wrenchingly bad feeling hit my stomach as he eyed his watch before snatching the photo of his wife off the wall.
“I can’t shoot you, you’re right.” He came closer to the bed with the gun in one hand and photo in the other. “But that was never the plan.”
I wasn’t sure what the hell the psycho was talking about, but it didn’t matter, because I caught sight of a flutter of movement outside the door. A shadow? Maybe my eyes were playing tricks on me.
No! I screamed on the inside when the guy whirled around to follow my gaze—and Adam appeared at that exact moment.
I barely had time to grapple with the fact Adam was there because now both men faced each other with guns drawn.
Terror filled my lungs, making it hard to breathe as I observed the scene. If Adam died trying to save me . . . “Please,” I cried. “Don’t.”
Adam’s blue eyes found mine for only a second before he focused on my captor and stepped into the room.
“Put the gun down.” His voice was a rough command; his tone clipped but confident.
He had to have backup; he’d never come alone and risk something going sideways.
But I also knew it couldn’t be the police because no way would they let Adam handle this moment.
“The Garda are on their way, McCaffrey,” Adam said. “It’s over.”
McCaffrey? God, my captor had a name now.
“You’re not supposed to be here.” The man shook his head. “This isn’t how it’s supposed to happen.”
“I guess you’re not as smart as you think,” Adam rasped.
“Your father killed my wife and daughter. We were here on vacation, and the bastard ran us off the road and didn’t even stop to help!”
“You don’t know for certain it was him. The police closed the investigation about the accident,” Adam said, his voice low and calm. He was somehow keeping it together, maintaining control of the situation. “Maybe if you hadn’t rushed back to work so soon after your family died, you wouldn’t have jumped to conclusions.”
“Fuck you!” he roared. “You. Your father. Your deep pockets. Of course, the Garda closed the case. You don’t think your old man paid them off? But I looked at his medical records. He’d been drinking that night. I caught his vehicle on the traffic cams in Dublin leaving the city shortly before the accident. The timing works out too perfectly for it not to be him.”
“If my father’s responsible he’ll be punished.” Adam’s eyes briefly connected with mine.
“No. He got away with it already. I won’t let him get away with it again.”
“Put the gun down. The only one who will die today is you if you don’t.”
My heart was a permanent fixture in my throat. Emotion strangling my breath.
“I’ll put it down if you do, and we can settle this the way you know best,” McCaffrey suggested in an eerily calm voice. “With our fists.”
Adam was the best fighter I’d ever seen, but this guy was also very jacked and hell-bent on vengeance.
“We don’t have time. You and I both know that.”
“So, you found the explosives?”
Explosives? “Get out of here, Adam,” I cried in a panic.
“You must have more people with you. I guess they’re preoccupied right now.” He continued to hold on tight to the photo in his free hand as he focused on Adam. “Since you know we’re down to a few minutes, we better make this quick. We lose our weapons at the same time.”
I could see the sweat on Adam’s brow, the movement in his throat.
But . . . he had people with him, and those people would diffuse the bombs. They had to.
“Fine.” Adam waited for McCaffrey to crouch, and then he followed suit. Adam must’ve realized the safest option for everyone was to get rid of the weapons.
We’ll be okay, I told myself, needing to believe it.
I squeezed my eyes closed, not able to watch what would happen next.
But at the sound of a fist connecting to flesh a moment later, I opened my eyes.
The guns
were on the floor now and off to the sides, and McCaffrey stood before Adam, swiping his fists in the air.
One landed on Adam’s jaw, but the next missed.
Adam ducked another wild swing, then pounded his clenched hand into the man’s ribs.
My heartbeat worked harder and faster, and I shook my wrists, trying to fight the zip ties again, ignoring the plastic cutting into my skin.
The guy attempted to plow round after round Adam’s way, but Adam deflected every punch. And every kick.
It was as if Adam was letting him make all the moves, allowing the guy to wear himself out.
McCaffrey was big. Strong and built.
Adam was toned and lithe, and he could last much longer. He was saving his energy for the right moment. He was making calculated moves.
And then, Adam’s signature hard left punch slammed into his cheek.
It was clear McCaffrey was trying to remain standing, but he looked wobbly. He fell to his knees and dropped forward.
Was it over?
It felt like horse hooves were on top of my chest, and I couldn’t gather in a deep breath.
The room was closing in on me, and if I wasn’t already on a bed, I probably would’ve fainted.
How much time did we have left?
Adam stepped over him to get to me, but then I saw a flash of movement.
McCaffrey was already on his feet.
“Adam!” I screamed, but it was too late.
He’d grabbed his gun and swung it hard, knocking the butt of the weapon against Adam’s temple.
Adam lost his balance, and his palms landed on the bed.
He was so close to me, and yet, he felt so damn far.
“Adam,” I cried, tears now trailing lines down my cheeks as his eyes met mine.
He blinked a few times, then shifted toward him so fast I almost missed it. He wrapped his hands around McCaffrey’s arms, forcing the gun to point in the air and away from me.
“Drop it!” an unfamiliar voice roared from somewhere in the room, but I couldn’t take my eyes off Adam.
Dublin Nights Series Box Set: On the Edge & On the Line Page 37