Page 72 of Redemption

We haul him into the back seat of the SUV, his head resting on Carys’s lap, and Lorcan scoots in behind him, Jay’s legs bent over his thighs. I slam my door, and we peel out of the airport toward the highway.

“He’s alive,” Carys marvels, taking in his unconscious form.

“For now,” I mutter. “We need help and fast.”

Chapter Thirty-Two

Carys

Jayisbleedingouton my lap. Panic surges, and I try to shove it deep enough for my mind to kick into gear. “The hospital?”

“Last resort,” Finn says. “I’m a wanted fugitive as far as the world knows, and I’m not leaving you unguarded anywhere.”

Lorcan takes off his shirt, muscles rippling, and passes it to me. “Apply pressure to the wound,” he says. “A lot of pressure.” He helps me search Jay until we find the entry point that is leaking blood.

I ball up Lorcan’s shirt and press it against Jay. He groans with his lashes fluttering.He can’t die.He can’t die. My pulse pounds with the words.

Lorcan leans forward in his seat to check on Kim. “Are you all right?”

“A graze.” She glances at him over her shoulder. “A little late getting off the shot.”

“You killed the other one?” I ask.

“Yes,” she grits out. “Got him before he could deliver the kill shot. There were four of them. Another one shot at us, nicking me, and one pursued us. I’m not sure where the other went.”

I shudder at the thought of a PLA man standing over Jay, ready to finish him. Thank God, Kim and Lorcan arrived in time.

“Fucking cowards.” Finn merges onto the highway.

Jay’s breathing is labored even though he’s still unconscious. “We have to do something. I can’t—I can’t sit here and watch him die,” I cry.

Finn doesn’t meet my gaze in the rearview mirror. Instead, he seeks Lorcan. “How bad is it?”

He eyes Jay sprawled out across us. “Bad enough. At the very least, he needs stitches. Maybe blood. Hard to say.”

“He won’t wake up.” How can he only need stitches?

“They knocked him out, I reckon. Wound isn’t in a place for too much worry. Blood loss is concerning.” Lorcan goes over Jay’s body, checking for any other injuries.

“If all he needs is stitches,” Kim says from the front, “Carys, doesn’t your father have a doctor friend outside Belfast?”

“Yes.” The word escapes on an exhale.

How have I forgotten about John? I shift around to dig my phone out of my purse. Early, too early, to be calling an old family friend for a favor, but if we can’t go to a hospital, John is the best bet. He used to have a clinic attached to his house. Does he still? I search my contacts for his number. We met with him a few times when my father wanted to expand Van de Berg Ammunitions with an office outside Belfast.

His voice is groggy when he answers. “Carys?”

“John, I’m so sorry for waking you at this early hour. We have a medical emergency, and the situation is too sensitive for a hospital. We’re in Belfast. Can we come to you?”

There’s a brief pause, and there’s rustling in the background. “Of course. Do you need my address?”

“Yes. Can you text it to me?”

“No problem. I’ll meet you in the clinic. Can you give me an idea of what I’m dealing with?”

“Gunshot wound. Possibly too much blood loss. We’re not sure.”

“I’ll be ready,” he says without hesitation.

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