Page 6 of Dublin Debacle

He slid off his barstool and headed for the hallway where she and the old man had gone.

A man was exiting the men’s latrine when Jack entered the hallway.

“Anyone else in there?” Jack asked.

The man’s eyebrows rose. “In the loo?”

Jack nodded.

“No,” the man said. “It’s all yours.” He left Jack standing in the hallway and staggered unsteadily toward the barroom.

Not taking the man’s word for it, Jack ducked his head into the bathroom. It was empty. He knocked on the ladies’ room door. When no one responded, he poked his head inside. “Miss Emily?” he called out. When he got no response, he moved down the hallway to what appeared to be an office. Again, it was empty, leaving only one more door that stood slightly ajar—the building’s rear exit.

Jack pushed through the open door out into the Dublin night air. His attention zeroed in on a man standing over another man, lying face down on the ground. Both wore dark clothing and ski masks. Not a good sign. A car stood near the men, the trunk gaped open, and the engine revved.

The man standing said something that sounded like,We gotta get her into the trunk.

The man on the ground moved slightly, exposing a pale white hand much too small to belong to a big guy.

Anger, fear and adrenaline shot through Jack’s veins. He flung himself toward the man standing over the guy on the ground and knocked him over on top of his counterpart. The man crashed to the ground on the other side and came up on his knees.

Jack reached down and grabbed the man lying on top of Emily by the back of his collar and his belt and slung him toward his counterpart. They both landed in a tangle of arms and legs.

Emily lay face down on the pavement.

The roar of an engine rang out in the Dublin night. “Get in!” a voice called out.

The two men Jack had bulldozed scrambled to their feet, ran for the car, flung open the doors and dove inside. They had barely closed the doors when tires squealed, and the vehicle slid sideways in a one-eighty and aimed for Jack and Emily.

Emily moaned, flattened her palms against the pavement and pushed herself upward until she was on her hands and knees.

Jack hooked around her middle and flung her out of the path of the oncoming car. He stood his ground and flipped his middle finger, distracting the driver to come after him, not Emily.

The car’s tires spun on the pavement, engaged and sent two tons of metal barreling toward him.

As the car reached him, Jack planted his hands on the hood, vaulted into the air, twisted, slammed his body into the windshield and rolled to the side and off the hood, landing on his hands and knees not far from where he’d thrown Emily. He pushed to his feet and turned toward the vehicle as it shot out of the alley and disappeared around the corner of the building at the end.

Jack had hoped to catch a license plate, but there hadn’t been one. When he was fairly certain they weren’t coming back, he turned toward Emily, rubbed the grit off hands and extended one to her. “Are you all right?”

“I should be asking you that question.” She stared up at him. “Are you okay?”

He nodded. “I’ll live.”

“I’m glad you’re all right.” She took his hand and let him pull her to her feet. “But I’m not so sure about my uncle.” She hurried toward the man lying still on the pavement. She crouched beside him and touched his shoulder. “Uncle Paddy?”

Jack dropped to his haunches beside the bar owner, reached out his hand and touched his fingers to the base of her uncle’s throat.

Emily pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and waited silently beside him.

For a long moment, Jack felt nothing. Then the faint throb of a pulse pushed against his fingertips. “He’s got a pulse.”

“Thank God.” Emily let go of the breath she must have been holding and started to rise to her feet.

“Keep an eye out for that car. I’ll call for an ambulance.” Jack pulled his cell phone from his pocket.

The man on the ground groaned. “No.”

Emily leaned over him. “Uncle Paddy?”

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