Chapter Two
RONAN
If I wasn’t sopissed off, I’d be completely aroused by the sight of my wife holding a gun. There’s something about the sheer determination on her face that has my blood heating.
But then my attention is drawn back to the fucker who is staring her down like she’s a wounded animal, and I see red. I don’t give the asshole a chance to answer before I shoot him in the shoulder without even blinking.
The sound of the gunshot rings in my ears, and Ciara flinches as he crashes to the floor, groaning as he clutches his shoulder.
I walk slowly over to him, taking my time. Though as I pass Ciara, I gently brush my fingers against her lower back, silently letting her know that I’ve got this, that I’ve gother.
I hate that she’s having to witness this side of me, but I also don’t want to waste any more time. I need to take care of this fucker.
He’s still clutching at the wound in his shoulder, his face twisted in agony as he tries to shuffle backward.
But he and I both know he’s not getting away from me.
I crouch down in front of him and aim my gun once more; his eyes look as if they’re about to bug out of their sockets.
He opens his mouth, no doubt to beg and plead, but I don’t give him a chance before I fire again, shooting him right in the left kneecap.
He howls, his body jerking as blood pours from the wound. The sound is damn near feral, but it only fuels me.
He’s not hurting enough for what he’s done, but I’m also not ready to kill him. So, I take out the other kneecap.
The gun feels solid and steady in my hand as he writhes on the floor.
Just then, Brennan bursts through the door, and his eyes flick from the girls to the bloody mess on the floor. “You want him alive?”
“Yes.” I get to my feet. “Tie him up and make sure he doesn’t bleed to death. I want him breathing when I come back.”
Brennan doesn’t hesitate as he grabs some rope from one of the rusted shelves nearby and gets to work restraining the kidnapper.
Only then do I turn my attention to the girls.
Ciara is still clutching the gun in her shaking hands as she stares down at the guy on the floor. Her face is pale, but there’s such unwavering determination in her eyes that it almost sends me to my knees.
There’s myTine Bheag. My little firecracker.
Mywife.
Mila sits slumped in an old metal chair just behind Ciara, her own face pale and drawn, but she’s alive and breathing.
They both are.
I tuck my gun into the waistband of my pants and slowly step toward Ciara.
Her eyes lock with mine, and I let my expression soften as I reach out to take the gun from her hands. Her knuckles are white from holding it so tightly, but when I place my hands over hers, she relaxes and lets go completely.
I pocket the gun before wrapping my arms around her and pulling her against me without a word.
She lets out a small gasp as I hold her tightly, burying my face in her hair and breathing her in because a part of me still can’t believe that she’s all right. That I got to her in time.
“You’re okay,” I murmur as she clings to me, her body trembling.
I pull back just enough to look at her, tilting her chin up so our eyes meet.
Every emotion flashes across her face before I lean in and kiss her hard, as if somehow tasting her will erase how close I came to losing her.
