“Holy crap,” Raider muttered at seeing Sean in the middle of a weapons room. Handguns, automatic shotguns, even some grenades in the corner. And dynamite. A bloody bandana was wrapped around Sean’s upper arm as he shoved guns and knives in his waistband. “What the hell?”
Sean looked over his shoulder, his serious eyes the same shade as Brigid’s. “Can you shoot?”
“Yes.” Raider’s nostrils flared.
Sean tossed him a SIG Sauer and a shotgun, which Raider easily caught. He shoved the SIG in his waistband. “Where would they take her?” Raider asked.
Sean shook his head. “Either a cabin they’ve secured, which I doubt, or out of here to Boston. There’s only one landing strip long enough for a private plane, and it’s about thirty miles east of here on federal land between farms.”
“My tires are slashed,” Raider said.
“Mine, too,” Sean muttered. “We’ll have to run to the barn a mile away. I have a summer car there.” He looked Raider over. “You going to be of help or be in the way?”
If he was in the way, there was no doubt Sean would just shoot him. “Where the hell’s my phone?” Raider snarled.
“Don’t need it.” Sean shoved past him and ran up the old stairs.
Raider followed and grabbed the older man, swinging him around. “I need my phone. Now.”
Sean started jogging toward the road. “I threw it in your rental car.”
Raider gave him a look and ran across the small bridge this time, reaching the car. The phone was on the dash. He grabbed it, pulled his badge and ID from under the seat, and launched into a run down the road after the older man, already dialing Force for backup.
“What?” Force growled for answer over the phone line.
“Brigid’s been taken by the Coonans, and I think she’ll keep her cover in place. They’re probably going to try and fly her to Boston,” Raider said, his head pounding every time his boots hit the ground. “I’ll need a lift out of here sooner rather than later. There’s a federally owned small landing strip about thirty miles east of the farm. I’m counting on you.” He clicked off before Force could protest and then sped up to run beside Sean.
“These are the guys you wanted to meet, you jackass,” Sean coughed out, his bleeding arm not seeming to slow him any.
“What do they want from you?” Raider tucked the phone in his pocket in a smooth move and ignored the raging pain in his head.
“None of your damn business,” Sean returned, speeding up and splashing mud over Raider’s legs.
Raider sped up as well. “That’s where you’re wrong. They took my fiancée. Tell me the truth.”
“She ain’t yours, and she won’t be.” The Irishman’s jaw firmed into what looked like solid rock. He moved fast for an old guy and was definitely in good shape. “I could’ve cut your throat and left you for the buzzards.”
“Yeah. Thanks for that.” Raider’s aching face heated. “I’m not usually easy to knock out.”
“One punch,” Sean snorted, his shoulders going back.
Raider’s shoulders went back. “A sucker punch right to the temple. You could level a moose like that.” He tensed his neck, fighting embarrassment. “I really can fight, you know,” he muttered under his breath.
Sean cut him a look as the next barn came into view. “Aye. I saw you take down Jonny P before I ran to get guns. He’s actually quite the scrapper.”
Well. At least that was something. They reached the barn and Sean tugged open the large door, wincing as he did so. Raider jumped in to help. “How bad you hit?”
“Just went through my upper arm,” Sean grunted, looking pale for the first time before jogging into the dark interior of the barn. He reached a car and quickly pulled off the blue car cover to reveal a 1977 Pontiac Firebird polished to perfection and ready to go.
Raider whistled. A realSmokey and the Banditcar. “You’re injured. I’ll drive.”
Sean faltered.
Raider moved toward the driver’s door. “We’re talking about Brigid here.”
Sean grimaced but strode for the passenger’s side and slid inside.
Raider yanked open the door and sat on the smooth leather, instinctively pulling down the sun visor. The keys dropped into his hand, and he inserted one, twisting. The engine roared to life with a rumble he felt to his bones. Putting the car in gear, he peeled out of the barn and swung around to the main road, punching the gas. “We have a chance to catch them.”
