For a second, I think it must be a stray cat coming to beg for some food, but then something moves in my peripheral vision that is too large to be anything other than a man.
“Kieran?”
I’m on my feet and walking along the edge of the patio when one of the men in Ronan’s detail, Connor, jerks violently.
Though there was no sound, he falls face down into the gravel as if he’s just been shot.
Before I can even open my mouth to scream, a gloved hand clamps over my mouth and pulls me back, away from the windows.
“Shh,” a voice hisses in my ear.
Something cold and metal presses against my side, and I whimper when I glance down and see the barrel of a gun.
“Make a sound, and I’ll put a bullet between your ribs.”
My knees threaten to buckle.
Even if I could fight him off, there’s no telling how many more men are waiting to take his place because he sure as hell didn’t get past Ronan’s security without help.
“Start walking.”
The barrel of the gun presses further into my side, and I force one foot in front of the other toward the back fence.
I don’t catch any of the faces of the men who move around the property like shadows, but I already know who sent them.
I always knew this fight with Sean O’Keefe would come to a head, but I was naive to think that when that happened, I would no longer be caught in the middle. That Kieran and his brothers would get to him first, and I would somehow get to be the one to walk away unscathed.
Maybe there is still a chance. At some point, the alarm will sound, and Kieran will appear because I know he wouldn’t let his anger at me overshadow his need to protect his child.
I just have to survive until then.
As we approach the fence, I stare up at the coils of barbed wire and blanch.
If I lose my balance, I could land wrong; I could land on my stomach and risk hurting the baby.
The man growls in my ear, “Try not to shred yourself in the process.”
Before I can even start to panic, two men close in, one on each side, their grips like iron bands clamping around my upper arms and pulling me forward.
“Move,” one of them grunts.
I stumble, catching myself against the fence just in time to stop from falling.
My palm scrapes against the cold metal links, and pain slices through my skin, but I just start climbing. My fingers slip on the metal a few times, and the robe I threw on over my pajamas tangles around my legs, threatening to trip me.
The fabric snags, pulling tight across my belly, but I bite down hard on the inside of my cheek and keep going.
I’m almost at the top when my sleeve catches on the barbed wire.
I tug, and a jagged barb slices deep across my forearm. I bite back a cry as warm blood trickles down my wrist, slicking my grip.
The pain is sharp and hot, but I don’t have a chance to assess the damage when strong hands grab me from above, and the world tilts as I’m hauled over the top and shoved down on the other side.
My knees hit the dirt with a thud that rattles through me.
Before I can scramble to my feet, one of the men jerks me upright and forces my face away from the house.
“Eyes front,” he hisses.
