We look around to make sure we aren’t followed, but Aitkens’ men have long since gone, and both the Cathedral and cemetery are secluded enough, no one else has come or seen us. It’s a bloody miracle with the racket we’ve made, but the only damn witness we have is walking beside me.
I open the door and shove her in, considering putting her in the damn boot for a moment. She can’t be allowed see where we’re taking her, and we can’t risk anyone seeing her beside us in the car either. I can’t, though. I’d berate one of my men for being soft with a bloody witness, but I can’t bring myself to do it. Christ. It’ll be a tight damn squeeze to have her in the back beside Clyde and Tate.
I shake my head. That’s not happening. There’s no fucking way I’ll have her sit between the two of them. Clyde will drive us home and we’ll blindfold her so she doesn’t see the way.
“Where are they?” Mac mutters, as we wait in the car for Clyde and Tate to return.
I shake my head. “No fucking idea. They weren’t supposed toburythe damn body tonight.” She shivers when I saybody.Did she not realize I’d killed him?
We’ve contacts with the men who dig graves here at the Cathedral, a good fucking convenience. Other mobs throughout the country dispose of their bodies by messy, covert means. Some of ours are buried alongside heroes and civilians at the cemetery, marked with bogus markers, of course. And no one’s ever been the wiser. We keep our contacts paid well.
I suspect Father MacGowen’s raised a brow a time or two, but as Clan chaplain, he knows better than to ask questions. He knows he won’t get an answer.
Five minutes later, they’re still not back, and I’m growing agitated. I’d go after them myself if not for the woman held firmly in my grip. She hasn’t wavered or spoken, staring straight ahead with her jaw clenched tightly. It looks as if she’s staring intently at something, but when I follow the path of her gaze, there’s nothing but darkness and a moonlit road.
“I’m going to fucking kill them,” Mac mutters, but he’s talking out of the arse side of his mouth, because there’s no way he’d ever harm a hair on the heads of either Clyde or Tate, never mind the two of them. Can’t say I don’t share his sentiment, though. Where the bloody hell are they?
“We’ll have to go find them,” I say with a sigh. Neither of us wants to face the possibility that Aitkens may have had more men with him that we saw, and if our own men were ambushed?—
I shake my head and secure the woman in the car. “You’ll stay here if you know what’s good for you.”
Mac scowls at her in the back. “Jaysus,I don’t fucking like this,” he mutters. “The lass will be trouble for the Clan. We haven’t brought?—”
“Shut it and find the others,” I interrupt before he can finish his thought. I’ve no more patience. “You have the keys?”
“Aye,” he says. I don’t miss the way a muscle ticks in his jaw at my order. He jerks his head at the trunk. “Should put her in the boot?”
Her eyes grow wide at this, but still, she says nothing.
I don’t bother to respond. “Let’s find the others.”
He slams the door and stalks off ahead of me. My youngest brother’s got a wee hair across his arse. Fucking noted.
I click the locks on the keys, fucking furious we’ve got a hostage in a car where anyone could bloody see, but I can’t very well drag her along with me. We’d better move quickly.
The moonlight offers enough light until we get further into the graveyard.
“Where the bloody hell did they go?” I mutter, when Mac jerks his chin to the left.
“That’s where to go. They’ve got the excavators for digging and we’ve got a place secured for the bodies.” He gives me a sidelong look. “Wouldn’t know that, would you? Haven’t dirtied your hands with such work in fucking ages.”
I don’t bother to reply. I won’t stoop to his level. I’ll deal with him and his insubordination in time. Immediate retaliation and knee-jerk reactions aren’t the way of the Scottish mob, and the Cowen Clan is no exception. We are deliberate and cunning, slow to forgive, and we never forget.
“Quite right, Mac,” I say nonchalantly. “Now shut your bloody mouth and help me find them.”
He may be insolent, but he won’t outright defy me. He shuts his bloody mouth.
We come to a small booth, the type one might find on a main road with a toll, but it’s empty.
Mac shakes his head, his anger forgotten. We’re back on the same fucking team. “No idea where they’ve gone to, brother.”
I grunt in reply, but don’t respond. I’m looking for clues. The door to the booth’s open, so they likely came here. Of course there’s no fucking body.
“Jesus,” I mutter, shaking my head, when Mac’s eyes suddenly light up.
“Ahead,” he hisses. “Look.”
I look up and see two shadowy forms ahead of us. I recognize the slope of Clyde’s shoulders and Tate’s stance from here. We break off at a run and reach them in seconds.
