Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 79046 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 395(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79046 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 395(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
There was no hope for him, but I nodded. “Yes.”
He tried to smile, blood trickling from his mouth. He shook his head, his eyes suddenly going wide with fear. “No,” he groaned, lifting his arm, the effort costing him the last of his strength.
I spun to see what he was looking at. Lopez was staggering toward us, a gun held in his unsteady hand and aiming for Una. Before I could draw my weapon, Brian shot, the bullet hitting Lopez. The impact spun him around, and he fell face first beside Juan. The sound of the gun going off echoed in the room, startling everyone.
Brian gasped for air, and Una’s sobs became harder as she reached for him, pulling him close and cradling his head in her lap. He looked up at her, an expression of deep sorrow on his face.
“Sing,” he gurgled.
Lowering her head, she sang for him, her voice thick but still beautiful. I watched as the life faded from his eyes, his mouth forming a word before he died.
“Sorry.”
Then he was gone. Una bent, still singing, stroking his hair like a child. I looked around, everyone pausing in their duties to watch the poignant moment.
I was helpless in the face of her pain, wondering how much more she could endure before breaking. I touched her shoulder. “Una, we have to go.”
She looked up. “What?”
“We need to clear everything out. The building is going to blow soon.”
She shook her head wildly, clutching Brian. “No! You can’t—he’s not—”
“Mo chroí,” I murmured. “He’s gone.”
Her voice was drenched in horror and so loud she was almost screaming. “You are not burying my brother with these people.”
Behind me, Roman spoke, his voice firm and calm. “No. We’ll take him, Una. You can bury him properly with your dad. We’ll make sure he gets the respect he deserves, right, Finn?”
“Yes,” I said, meeting her pain-filled gaze. “He saved your life. Tonight, he became a hero. He died protecting you.”
“Promise?” she asked, her voice sounding like a child’s.
“Yes. But you have to let Roman take care of it.”
She finally loosened her hold. Roman leaned down. “Take her, Finn. Leave this all to us. You need to get her out of here. The others have been dispatched and are already on their way to the hotel. Niall has someone he is refusing to let go of. Take them and Una and go. We’ll follow shortly once we finish here.” He met my eyes. “It won’t be long.”
Time was of the essence. We needed to get everyone out and cleared before the explosions began. Before someone heard or saw something. We didn’t want any civilian deaths on our hands.
I didn’t argue. I stood and picked up Una, pushing her head into my neck. The squelch of pooling blood under my feet made me shudder. I covered her ear with my palm, pushing her head into my neck. I didn’t want her to hear it. To look around and see the carnage, the dead bodies and the blood. She had enough to recover from. I walked to Niall. “We need to go.”
He nodded, still holding the small blond woman Una had called Anna. I didn’t ask why.
Clutching my girl, I carried her out of that barn, praying one day her mind would release her from it as well.
I would do everything in my power to make sure it happened.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
FINN
No one spoke in the van that met us at the designated spot. I held Una, her quiet sobs painful to hear. At the hotel, the self-contained parking area was busy, and we took my private elevator to my floor. Niall had a room there as well, and I stopped by his door, indicating the woman he held. “Let her get cleaned up, and you can arrange to take her downstairs.”
He only grunted slightly, entering his room. I carried Una to mine, heading right to the bathroom. I turned on the shower, letting it heat, then set her on the vanity as I stripped. I left my boxers on, unsure about how unsafe she was feeling—even with me. I tugged off the blanket, pausing at the sash of the robe. “Una?” I asked quietly.
She nodded, and I pulled it from her, discarding it on the floor. In the shower, I sat her on the bench, letting the hot water pour over her. I washed myself as she remained still, huddled on the seat, her head lowered and shoulders bent.
I kneeled in front of her. “Let me help,” I murmured.
Again, all I got was a nod. I washed her hair twice, adding conditioner the way she liked, then I spent long minutes pulling a comb through the wet strands, finally working out the knots. I rinsed it and picked up the body wash.
“No,” she whimpered as I reached for the loofah.