Find Me (Trust Me, Find Me 2)

“Don’t. Don’t say it. I don’t want no more blood on my hands.”

“What d’ya mean?”

“Kill him if it’ll make you feel better. But not for me, Connor. Never say you did it for me.”

“But, Tony… I come half ways ‘round the world for ya?”

“Yeah. Ya did. ‘Cos yer a crazy git and you can’t stand the fact that this Sion bloke got one up on yer. This was always about you. Irish, the great fuckin’ gangster. But, I want nutin’ to do with it. Ya hear me, Connor? Nothin’.”

The phone went dead.

He rubbed his head and put the phone back in his pocket. Then, he leaned back onto the mattress.

Was he serious? How could he say that? Everything he did was for his family.

A wave swept over him. Was he tired of all of this? Or was it the jetlag? It was the jet lag, he decided. It was an assassin in its own right, sneaking up on you quietly, rendering you helpless.

Loaded gun at his side, Connor O’Dwyer curled up on the mattress that smelled of sex.

It didn’t matter what his brother thought, or who he was doing this for, anymore. The fact remained that Sion Edwards had ratted him out. And for that, tomorrow they’d all die.

???

Fat lot of good they’ve been. Two of my father’s biker gang henchmen are propped up on the lodge deck outside, fast asleep. I step over them to pick up a handful of empty beer bottles. So much for guard duty.

The kitchen looks like locusts have swarmed. The cupboards are bare and beer bottles, plates and greasy bowls are strewn across the granite tops. The detritus of the night before.

Tane’s asleep in one of the guest rooms. Ari in another. They were both up ‘til the wee hours, ‘keeping watch’ supposedly. Drinking whisky with Shaun, more like.

It’s real early. The sun is up but the air is still a little cool and the lake is mirror-still. It’s so breathtakingly beautiful out here today, I’m so going to get Shaun to come out with me in the canoe. I’d wake him up now but he’s still in a deep sleep.

To be honest, last night I was glad of the space. A lot has gone on in the last twenty-four hours and I needed to think about all of it. I’m engaged to Shaun. I can’t stop grinning from ear to ear every time I remember that. What we did. How he makes me feel.

And I’ve found ‘Daddy.’ Cobra King. Chief gang leader. Drug dealer. A man who’d abducts girls for money. A man prepared to kill. Has killed.

Tane’s hardly the kind of guy you’d want your boyfriend to meet. And yet there they were, the three of them, getting on like a house on fire.

It’s a lot to get my head around. I crumb up the crusts of a stale loaf of bread and slip on my sandals by the door. What with everything going on last night, we forgot to feed the chooks.

Is Tane Matene the kind of daddy I want in my life?

And do I get to choose?

???

Irish was woken up by his mobile vibrating against his hip.

It was light but it felt early.

Disoriented, he took a second to remember where he was. In the barn. Waiting. Shit! He’d slept for too long.

And he’d missed the call.

He pressed reply. It was Pete.

“Connor? Thank God!”

“What? Why are you calling my mobile? It’s not secure.”

“It’s too late for that. They’ve raided the stores.”

He felt his blood draining from his face as Pete continued. Millions of pounds worth of top-grade cocaine. Seized.

“Fuck!”

“Exactly. And three of our offshore accounts have been frozen. I can’t work out how they’ve found them.”

“So, what do we do?” Irish asked, trying to recover his composure.

“I won’t ask what’s possessed you to take off to New Zealand but I need your arse back here, right now. If you don’t, you’re not gonna have a business to come back to. Everything on the ground needs to be cleaned up and closed down. They’ll follow the supply chain and it's only you with the links to the dealers.”

“Alright. Don’t panic. I’ve a little business to attend to but I’m booked onto the evening flight outta here. And I can make some calls.”

Irish picked up the shotgun beside him and made for the ladder, leaving the long bowie knife by the mattress.

There was no time for slicing. He needed to end this now.

???

Shaun woke with a start from his deep sleep.

The scream was deafening.

Claire?

His hands frantically felt the coldness of the space in the bed beside him. She’d been up for a while. And that scream was definitely hers.

Bounding from the bed, he jumped into his shorts and grabbed the loaded rifle by the bed.

Where was she?

He knew it had been too easy. They’d been caught off guard.

“Claire?”

“Boss?” The call came through the house from one of the men at the bottom of the stairs. Tane and a sleepy Ari appeared on the upstairs landing a few seconds later.

“What’s going on?” Ari asked.

A gruff voice from below.

“He’s got a gun to her head.”

“Where is he?”

“Out front.”

“Sion Edwards?” The loud shout came from outside.

There was no mistaking the scouse accent. It was Irish. And he sounded pumped up. Volatile. Shaun’s stomach lurched. In his professional opinion, he sounded liable to shoot her.

“Get here,” he screamed towards the house again. “Or I’ll blow her fuckin’ brains out, you hear me?”

King stared at Shaun.

“What you gonna do?”

Shaun chewed his lip. The gang leader was asking him?

“Gimme a second. Let me take a look.”

Nearing his bedroom window, he moved the shutter so he could stay out of view.

The bastard. He’d got Claire kneeling on the lake shoreline with two barrels pointed into the base of her skull. An instant kill.

His heart melted. She was shaking and making small whimpering sounds, trying to keep it together. But she was terrified. Claire!

He went back to the landing. He needed to think straight.

“I’ve got a clear shot but it’s too risky. If he touches the trigger, she’s dead.”

“Call the police?” Ari suggested.

“Yeah... But, what about in the meantime?” Shaun replied, “The guy’s about to pop.”

His eyes met Tane’s.

They both knew the only thing left to do. But who would go?

“Can you cover me?” Shaun asked him, holding out the rifle towards Tane.

A big hand covered his, holding it and the rifle firm in the space between them.

“You’re the snipper,” Tane’s voice rumbled. “You need to do your job. Save us both.”

Shaun put his free hand on the big man’s shoulder. Tane was right.

Shaun nodded at Tane.

“Be careful.”

Slipping on a black t-shirt and baseball cap, he edged back to the window and got into position in the shadow of the shutter with his loaded gun.

Above Irish’s head, the bedroom window slowly opened, little-by-little, inch-by-inch. Wide enough to reveal the black barrel of his rifle.

Shaun’s eye drilled down the scope, focussing on the Scouser’s head, consciously, desperately trying to block all his fears for Claire from his mind.

If he was going to do this, he needed to be the sniper again. No matter how much he wanted to rage, to blow the guy’s head off. He needed to shut all of that out.

Slow down his pulse and breathe… In… Then out… In… Then out… Line him up… And wait… Wait for that one moment, the sweet spot, when he was in the cross-hairs… and she was safely away.

“Irish!”

The thunderous bellow rolled from the lounge windows as Tane Matene, Cobra King, burst out onto the decking. Shoulders broad, head high.

Irish shot agitated glances between the girl and the huge beast of a man squaring up to him.

“What the f..?”

His voice trailed as he finally took in the size and spectacle before him.

A warrior, towering tall, arms folded in a warlike stance. Behind him, two built giants pointed their rifles his way.

“Let her go.”

Tane Matene took a defiant and deliberate step towards Claire.

The Adam's apple on Irish’s skinny neck bobbed. What was he going to do? Shoot her and get killed himself? Or hold out for Edwards? Use his brains, try a negotiation?

“King?”

Shaun heard the Liverpudlian’s voice cracking. His finger was poised. The sight was lined up solidly in place. But the Scouser’s gun stayed jammed resolutely to Claire’s head.

No shot.

Another giant step. The gang leader’s shadow stretched forward. It was now touching Claire’s knees.

She looked up shakily towards her father.

Irish twitched.

“We had a deal, King. A feckin’ deal. She’s mine. And so is Sion Edwards.”

“Let my girl go.”

“Your girl?” Irish asked edgily.

Another step. Tane was ground level, five feet away from him.

“Stay where you are, or I’ll do her, right now.”

The gun wavered for a second away from Claire towards her father.

Shaun’s finger poised, ready to squeeze.

Too late. The gun swung back to the base of her head.

Dammit! No shot.

“Let her go!”