Page 51 of Dublin Beast

Anton exhales hard, and I can practically picture him rubbing his forehead, pacing like he always does when he’s stressed. “You scared the shit out of me, you know that?”

“I’m sorry.” My throat tightens, guilt pressing down on me. “I wouldn’t have worried you if I had a choice.”

There’s another pause, but the tension in his voice eases just a fraction. “So…what does this mean?”

I hesitate, pressing my lips together. “Well, I can’t come back to Liverpool. Not yet.”

“Then how?—”

“I’ll investigate remotely,” I cut in before he can argue. “You should go home, Anton. Be with your family. I’ll keep pushing forward on this from here.”

I expect another protest, but when he speaks again, there’s resignation in his tone. “But you’re not letting this go? You’re still going to investigate?”

I scoff. “If anything, I’m more determined than ever.”

“Of course you are.”

I know how worried he’s been about his sister, but as horrible as it was being captured, I learned important information. “Anton, I don’t want to make promises, but given the high-end set up and the auction, I’m thinking the women Mason sells might not get shipped off and be lost. If he’s selling them directly to one wealthy buyer, then they might be close. We just have to find them.”

Anton is silent for several long beats. When he finally speaks, his voice is softer. “Maybe. But no matter what you find, be careful, Harper. Your safety is no less important than that of my sister or your friends.”

“Thanks. I’ll be careful.”

“Keep me updated?”

“Always.”

I hear him sigh as he’s hanging up, muttering something about stubborn women. There’s no real heat behind it, just concern.

I hang up, find my power cable, and plug my phone in. Then, shaking off the last of my lingering emotions, I reach for my laptop and power cord. Taking it over to the small desk in the corner, I plug in and set my mouse on top for later.

My limbs feel heavy, my head foggy, and my body is screaming for rest.

I step back from the desk and call toward the living room. “Bryan? I’m lying down for a bit.”

A low grunt of acknowledgment comes from the other room. “Sweet dreams, trouble.”

Without another word, I shimmy out of my pants and crawl back into bed, burrowing beneath the covers. The last thing I register is the faint scent of clean linen and the distant sound of Bryan moving around the suite.

Then everything fades.

CHAPTERFOURTEEN

Bryan

Harper is still dead to the world.

I glance up from my laptop, stretching my neck before rubbing a hand down my face. She’s barely moved in hours, her steady, even breaths the only sound breaking the silence. Color is returning to her cheeks, the dark hollows beneath her eyes not as stark as they were before.

She’s snoring softly, too, which is ridiculously adorable—but mostly, the soft breathy sound helps me relax. She needs rest, and seeing her so content makes me feel like I haven’t totally fucked up.

I never should have let her go on the dinner run alone. Of course, Eddie wanted to save face after I made him look like the schmuck he is. I should have anticipated him coming after her.

I didn’t, and that’s on me.

I lean back in my chair, cracking my knuckles. It’s done. The only thing to do now is to move forward and make sure she’s safe while we find Siobhan and then circle back around to take him and his operation down.

But first, Siobhan. I turn my attention back to my screen and the long list of Sentinel-affiliated properties in the UK. The farmhouse is still the most promising, but if she’s not there, I want to know where to look next.

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