Shattered Hearts (Irish Kings #1)

32. Riley

Chapter 32

Riley

Cian and I bound up the grand staircase to the third floor. Outside the estate’s dramatic windows, darkness has fallen. In more ways than one.

They’ve got Finn. My lungs stopped inflating properly ever since Cian uttered those words. I feel like I’m bleeding out and trying to run at the same time. Forcing myself to keep up with his long strides while holding back my tears takes every ounce of willpower I have.

Upstairs, we sprint down the wide, red-carpeted hallway toward the Gallagher situation room, a conference-sized space dominated by a massive mahogany work table lined with navy office chairs. Shane and his inner circle convene here to discuss crises, and when we thunder into the room, we find everyone present.

Everyone except Rory, who’s rushing here as we speak.

My father sits with his thick ringed fingers steepled over the table and looks as if he’s been steamrolled by a week-long migraine.

Shane and Donal sit on the opposite side of the table. They converse in short, cryptic sentences with lowered voices.

At the front of the room, Darren stands behind an electronics station, manipulating images and video on the projection wall. “I was able to tap the security camera footage at Saint Christopher’s.”

A six-ply display of screens appears, each frame displaying a different clip of Finn moving through the hospital on his own.

A few frames show him hastening down hospital hallways. In one shot, he confers with a nurse, and later, that nurse slips him a syringe that he immediately pockets.

The frame in the bottom right corner features Finn getting into a cab out front.

My heart surges into my throat. Desperate confusion and fear ravage me on the inside.

Why did Finn leave Rory at the hospital and go off on his own? When he sent me home, was that Finn’s plan all along?

Cian braces his hands against the table. “That fucking idiot.”

Back in the car after we first got the news, he slammed the steering wheel with so much force, I expected to find a dent the size of his massive hand.

“I’m still tracking his whereabouts with the software Rory developed, but Finn left his phone at the hospital.” Darren’s mouth pushes down into a flat line, like he’s trying to keep emotion out of the words that come next. “Rory suspects he did it on purpose.”

The room grows grim. What am I missing?

My thoughts are too scattered to suss out the truth from their gray expressions.

“He played right into their hands.” Cian’s gritted-out words launch a shockwave through me.

No. There’s no way Finn would…he couldn’t have. I cover my mouth to keep back the emotion drawing up inside me.

Finn sacrificed himself? He willingly gave himself to the people who murdered his wife? By the time Rory barrels through the door, my shallow breaths have almost come to a stop. All the men look to him for news.

“It’s just as I thought.” Breathing hard, Rory produces Finn’s phone and strides toward Darren. “He got a call from a blocked number half an hour before they discharged him.”

I swear the room’s temperature plummets ten degrees.

Practically foaming at the mouth, Cian glowers at the conference table between us hard enough to burn a hole in it. Rory’s frozen, unblinking gaze and Darren’s narrowed eyes and taught jaw signal something deeper, more ominous. The enforcers’ expressions are louder versions of the looks on the faces of Shane and his innermost circle.

Shane’s eyes steel over with resolve. Resolve…or a rage more all-consuming than I’ve ever witnessed.

The downturned corners of my father’s mouth twitch with irritation. His bearded jowls tighten whenever he disapproves. I would know.

Donal hides his mouth behind his folded hands, his forehead creased with concern. “Enzo must’ve threatened him.”

Rory slams the phone down on the table. “But why didn’t he say anything?”

“He couldn’t.” I surprise the room and myself.

Six pairs of eyes drill into my face.

Shane nods, like he’s giving me permission to speak. “Explain.”

I point to one of the CCTV frames still running on the screen. My thoughts move faster than I can comprehend them, so I hope they don’t come out as gibberish.

“Look there.” My voice comes out breathy and unfamiliar. “That’s Stiletto.”

“The assassin?” Cian’s head snaps toward the screen, as does Shane’s.

I point out the killer in question lurking in the background of one of the security camera feeds.

Dad once asked me to compile a report of all the assassins currently operating in the city. The thing took weeks to put together. Stiletto was the highest-profile hitman in the five boroughs at that time, and we suspected he was only there on a contract since he’s known to work primarily in Italy and along the southern coast of Europe.

What was he doing at that hospital?

“Rory, you were there. How the fuck did you miss him?” Donal’s gruff voice carries over to the Gallaghers’ tech guru, who seems consumed by shock and self-directed fury.

“Damn him.” Frustrated, Rory appears ready to punch himself in the face. “The De Lucas set us up.”

Darren zooms in on the frame featuring Stiletto. “What happened?”

“They must’ve been tailing us. All of us.” Rory scowls at the footage. “If Finn didn’t get away, Stiletto was there to kill me.”

Abruptly, Shane stands, commanding all the attention in the room. “I know where Enzo’s taken him.” The leader of the Irish mob eyes Rory, Darren, and Cian. “ Red spring down .”

Even I know what red spring down means. It’s Gallagher slang for battle stations .

Cian, Rory, and Darren mobilize immediately, each heading for a seemingly well-choreographed exit. In that one moment, realization slams into me.

If the Irish are going to war with the Italians to bring Finn home, there’s no way in hell I’m going to sit on the sidelines and wait.

I couldn’t do anything when Finn was stabbed in the street. In the hospital, while he recovered, I parked my ass in a chair by his bedside and did nothing but cry for days, praying he’d wake up. I should have told him I loved him then…that maybe I’ve loved him for years. But I was afraid he might not love me back.

I was a coward.

If Finn survives this shitshow he’s gotten himself into, I’ll lay my feelings for him on the table. Whether he reciprocates or not.

With quick steps, I follow Finn’s friends from the situation room on the third floor all the way to the armory in the basement. Through a pair of automatic barn doors is the Gallagher weapons repository and shooting range.

Bigger than an indoor tennis court, the left half of the space makes up the armory, the right half the shooting range.

When I first decided to live on my own, I got into a huge fight with our father about it. He mocked my ability to take care of myself.

I vowed to prove him wrong. So in the weeks leading up to my move, I used to sneak down here in the middle of the night and practice my aim.

I was already a pretty good shot. My father never would’ve considered using me as an informant otherwise. Not that he cared whether running errands for him got me killed. He just didn’t want me to be a liability or embarrass him. Those nights down here in the range also served to work off some of my anger.

The fury currently spiking my body temperature harkens back to it as Finn’s three closest friends pay me little mind, trading serious words about what’s to come.

I have to shout to get their attention. “I’m coming with you.”

The enforcers blink at me for three seconds and get back to what they’re doing, ignoring me. Fire snakes up the back of my throat, and my fists clench at my sides.

“Fuck no.” Darren swipes a machine gun off the wall and slings it across his back. “It’s too dangerous, Brennan.”

I cross my arms, gearing up for a fight.

Rory gives Cian an upward nod in my direction, as if to say, You tell her .

“You’re not coming with us.” Cian doesn’t even glance my way, which spurs me into a rage, from my collarbone to my hairline. “Finn would kill us if we brought you.”

I take a deep breath and count to three before responding. “I’ll deal with Finn.”

“Which van are we taking?” Darren carries on, as though that’s the end of the discussion. Rory and Cian forget I’m standing there almost as fast.

Dammit.

Fury charges my footsteps as I shove between them and rip a handgun out of the holster against Darren’s chest.

Paying Darren’s protests no mind, I whirl toward the gun range. From where I’m standing, at least ten paces from the countertop over which people usually stand to take aim, I fire three shots at the target fifty feet away.

I put a face on the mannequin. From here, the bullet holes look like two eyes and a nose. When I swivel back to the enforcers, their faces are three different flavors of surprised.

Darren cocks his head as his eerie blue eyes scrutinize me. His blank expression reminds me of the Clear All function on a calculator.

Rory raises eyebrows and purses mouth as if he wants to whistle. “Somebody’s got aim…”

Cian stares the longest. “Why do you care?”

Everyone stills as they await my reply. Swallowing my pride, I lift my chin and offer the truth. “Because it’s Finn. It’s always been Finn.”

Cian’s expression softens. “You stick with us and do exactly what we say. One Brennan sister may already be in danger. I won’t be responsible for endangering another.”

At the mention of Harper, my blood runs cold. But I don’t have the headspace to think about her right now.

One thing at a time.

“Of course.” I squeeze Cian’s shoulder as a thank you, re-holster Darren’s gun, and grab one off the wall for myself. “Let’s go, then.”

“Kevlar first.” Rory hands me one, which I put on over my tank top before pulling my sweatshirt back over my head.

Shane suspects the De Lucas have Finn at one of their safe houses upstate. He thinks Enzo took Finn to this particular location because it’s the place where Finn killed Matteo. Enzo’s both homicidal and poetic, apparently.

Rory rounds up five foot soldiers to join our rescue party. Jon and Declan Flaerty, Anthony Walsh, Robin Ryan, and James Moore. Though I don’t know any of them very well, I’m familiar with all of them.

Jon and Declan are easy to remember because, besides Harper and me, they’re the only other pair of twins in the Gallagher clan. Robin is equally ubiquitous because the man is a skyscraper. People around here call him Big Rob because he’s over six and a half feet tall, and both Tony and James work closely with my dad.

The men give me looks ranging from apathy to surprise before Rory yanks the door to our extended cargo van open and they all pile into the back.

Cian drills me with a hard stare before climbing in. “You sure about this?”

I nod. “Finn would do the same for me.”

In fact, Finn has already put his life on the line to save me. This is the least I can do, as the woman who loves him. As someone who’d be dead if he hadn’t been there when I needed him.

Saving Finn is worth the risk to my life. Even if saving him means he and Harper ride off into the sunset together. Losing him to my sister would gut me and tear my heart into pieces, but I can bear the pain.

I can’t bear the idea of a world without Finn.

Cian nods and hops into the back to talk strategy with the soldiers.

“Come on, traitor.” Darren breezes past me. “You’re riding shotgun. I’m driving.”

“You guys got candy ready to lure in the kids?” Our caravan has the appearance of an armored pedo van. Bulletproof walls and no windows except on the driver and passenger side doors make it impossible to tell what or who might be in the back from the outside.

Spearmint and old tobacco choke the air in here, causing me to cough. The hour-plus drive to the safe house kills me a little more with every passing mile.

In the back of the truck, Rory and Cian talk strategy and go over the blueprint that Shane provided. I should eavesdrop on the discussion, so I’ll know what to expect when we arrive, but I can’t stop thinking about Finn. About whether…I’ll ever see him alive again.

In my mind, I relive his final kiss. My nails dig into my palms, and I use the momentary ache to keep the avalanche of emotions at bay. He knew , my mind keeps insisting. When he sent me home at the hospital…when he kissed me, he knew that might be the last time.

What were you thinking?

I want to scream at him. To shake him until his teeth rattle for taking off on his own. How could he do this? I thought…we were in this together.

Angel.. .a word I’ll hear in my dreams until the day I die.

The warmth of Finn’s breath on my neck as his lips grazed me.

His nose tucked into mine as our eager lips combined.

I swipe a hot tear off my face.

No one hurts my wife.

The way he came for me that day—running—fueled my desire to walk down the aisle and marry him for real.

So did his laughter in a lonely diner while we played cards and swapped secrets in the middle of the night.

My feelings for Finn rage like an uncontained wildfire. Flames erupt everywhere, licking at my skin and burning me from the inside out.

Memories of my short time with him tumble through my mind on shuffle.

Our car rides, our bickering. I recall the moment when I realized Finn was going to waterboard my ex. My horror from back then is a thousand times worse.

Because I know that whatever is happening to Finn right now is probably a thousand times worse than what he would’ve done to Troy.

In the passenger seat, I hug my knees to my chest, thankful for the darkness both inside and outside our caravan.

I guess there was a time when I dreamed of something like this.

Of being a trusted member of the Kings, of being valued for my mind and my skills.

Now I see the flaws in my dreams.

Riding into a dangerous situation, gun holstered at my hips, isn’t glamorous or exciting. Like a deserted stretch of road at night, it’s solemn, dark, and eerie.

As we race down the interstate, I pray there’s a man left to save by the time arrive.