The last time I was this enraged was when I learned of Mikhail’s death.
This is almost worse. This shock comes with a deep sense of betrayal.
The waif I wanted to help is Declan’s sister-in-law.
Not a prostitute.
Not his victim.
His sister-in-law.
Family.
Thinking of what I’m going to do next, I feel better.
I suppose it could be called poetic justice. Or serendipity, a word I’ve always liked. Whatever the name, the result will be identical.
Declan O’Donnell took something from me.
It’s my turn to take something from him.
By the time the jet starts to taxi down the runway, I’ve already memorized the tail number and turned away.
15
Riley
When we arrive in Boston, it’s pouring rain. The weather is so bad, the jet has to circle the airport for an hour before we get clearance to land. When we do finally land, it’s with a violent jolt that makes me bite my lip so hard, it bleeds.
I try not to take that as a bad omen.
But suddenly, everything feels like a bad omen. From the moment we lifted off in Bermuda, I’ve had an unshakeable feeling of doom.
The brutal turbulence during the flight didn’t help. Neither did the flock of geese we murdered on our descent into Boston. I looked out the window and saw a blizzard of feathers and bloody bird parts flying past, and white-knuckled the arms of my seat until we landed.
Now we’re here, and Spider’s hustling me down the aisle toward the opening cockpit door with such impatience, it would probably be easier if he picked me up and carried me instead.
“Hurry, lass,” he urges from behind me, propelling me forward with a hand between my shoulder blades.
“I can’t hurry any faster than I already am.”
He gives me a gentle shove. “Try.”
That he’s so nervous makes me more nervous. He’s the one with the gun!
Outside, another black SUV awaits on the tarmac, engine running. Spider throws his suit jacket over my head to shield me from the downpour, then follows me down the airstairs, right on my heels.
He whisks me into the car, climbs in behind me, and slams shut the door, all with the speed of a tornado.
“Kieran. Good to see you, mate.” He nods at the big brute in the driver’s seat, wearing a black suit identical to his own.
The brute sends him a chin lift in return. “Spider. Bout ye?”
“Minus craic. You up to date?”
“Aye.” He shakes his head. “Declan had a quare gunk when he got yer call.”
Spider mutters, “And no wonder. It’s bloody ogeous handlin’。”
“Desperate altogether.”
In the rearview mirror, Kieran glances at me, pulling the jacket off my head and around my shoulders, shivering from the cold.
He says, “Hullo, lass.”
“Hi, Kieran. I’m Riley. I have no idea what you guys are saying, but it sounds bad.”
“Tis,” he replies, nodding. “But don’t ye worry. Things’ll perk up now that yer not spendin’ all yer time with this bleedin’ melter.”
He jerks his chin again in Spider’s direction. Spider says something in Gaelic that sounds unflattering.
They share a wry grin, then we’re off, speeding away from the airport like we’re being chased by an army of demons.
We drive in silence for about ten minutes until Kieran makes a turn off the road. We’re in an industrial area not far from the airport. Huge warehouses line both sides of the street. We pass dozens of them, then slow for a chain-link fence topped with barbed wire that crosses the end of the road.
Kieran punches a code into a small black box on a metal stand beside the roadway. In a moment, the gate rolls to one side, allowing us to pass.
Directly ahead of us is a four-story square red brick building. It has no windows on the first floor. The windows on the upper floors have iron bars and dark tinting. Smoke billows from three cement stacks on the roof.
It looks creepy, like a crematorium.
“What is this place?” I ask Spider.
“A safe house.”
He offers nothing more, which I also find creepy. Shouldn’t he be reassuring me we’ll be safe in the safe house?
Or does he have doubts?
We drive around back, stopping in front of a huge roll-up metal door. Kieran enters a code into another small black box. Mounted on either side of the door near the top are cameras, their red eyes burning.
I notice a curious opening in the center of the wall above the door. It’s about three feet long and maybe six inches high. “What’s that hole in the wall for?”