Page 11 of Veiled Vengeance

I give the easy answer and let him draw his own conclusion. “The Bride Butcher is Spencer’s ex, Anthony Cole.”

Hayes speaks slowly, as if he’s talking to himself aloud. “So, the man who attacked Spencer was her ex, who has been killing women for years . . .” He trails off and turns around, giving us his back. He runs his hands through his hair.

Rio takes a step toward him. “You know it’s not her fault, right?”

Hayes spins back around. “Yeah, I know. This is just . . . a lot.” He stares at the ground, working out the puzzle. His headsnaps up, and he questions, “She ran away from him? That’s why she ended up here?”

“It’s not really our story to tell,” I answer him.

He nods, accepting my response as sufficient. “Okay, okay . . . And you know where they are?”

“We don’t know that Anthony has Iris,” I explain.

Hayes shakes his head, jarring the doubt from his mind. “No. He has her; I know it. He took Asher. He had to have taken Iris too.”

“If she’s there, we’ll get her back for you,” Rio promises.

Hayes startles, walking toward us. “No, I’m going with you.”

“No way,” I add forcefully, holding my hand out to stop him.

“You leave me behind, and I’ll just follow you,” he threatens.

Rio raises a brow. “We could just tie you up and throw you in the basement.”

“You could try. But you’re not the only one with tricks up their sleeve.” He lifts his shirt, showing us the gun resting in the waistband of his pants.

I grab his arm and guide him to lower his shirt. “Where the hell did you get that? Do you even know how to use it?”

“I’ve known how to shoot since I was eight. I know the names of each part of the gun, and I know how to disassemble and reassemble it with my eyes closed.”

Rio and I become impossibly still. I tilt my head and narrow my eyes. “Your last name isn’t Brown, is it?”

Hayes flattens his lips. “No, it’s not Brown.”

“I figured when I couldn’t find much but the basics in a background check. Who are you?”

“Fuck.” He runs another hand through his hair. He paces back and forth, three steps in each direction. “Just promise you won’t go crazy; I’m not my family.”

My muscles tense, and the glower on my face doesn’t let up.

I don’t like where this is going . . .

“My name is Declan Hayes O’Connell.”

Rio’s jaw drops. “O’Connell? As in Patrick O’Connell, leader of the IRA?”

Hayes’s eyes wander to the ceiling. “Yeah, that’s Dad. He’s a gem,” he says sarcastically. “So . . . I’m coming with, right?”

Rio and I share another communicative look, and I sigh. “This rescue isn’t an official NYPD or FBI operation. You get shot, the bill is yours.”

Hayes nods his head. “Okay. No problem.”

“And one more thing,” I add. “You stay out of the way, and you follow exactly what we say.”

Hayes bounces on the balls of his feet. “Got it. When do we leave?”

I gesture to myself. “I need to get dressed, man.”

---