Page 78 of The Chief
The bat dropped from my slick fingers, landing with a muted thud and cutting her off. I couldn’t stand to hear her say anymore. “You’re safe now, Orla. He can’t come back and hurt you.”
Her gaze dipped for a second before I tipped her chin back up. “Don’t look at him. Please,” I begged. “Just … don’t…”
There was blood on her chin now, and I pulled the sleeve of my pajama top down to wipe it away.
She clutched my hand, pulling it away from her face. “What are you going to do, Cait?”
I knew what I should do, but what I was going to do was something different. “Do you trust me?”
“Always,” she replied fiercely. “Always.”
“Then I need you to keep this a secret. When the Garda come, tell them … tell them…” Fuck, what could she say that wouldn’t incriminate her? “Tell them you don’t know what happened. That we’d gone out and when we got home, I came upstairs while you stayed in the kitchen…”
She frowned. “Won’t they know that’s a lie?”
“Possibly but stick to the story. Nobody can dispute it.” I held out my pinky finger to her. “Promise you’ll stick to the story? Promise that you trust me?”
Without hesitation, she linked her pinky finger with mine. “I promise.”
Leaning forward, I kissed her forehead and disappeared from the room.
I knew I wouldn’t see her again. The memories I’d collected over the last eight years of her life were going to have to be enough.
Orla’s pinky finger twined with mine, and I blinked our current reality back into focus.
“Always,” she whispered.
“Always,” I repeated, relief flooding my veins.
“But please don’t disappear on me again,” Orla added quickly.
“I promise.”
Owen made a soft sound of derision as he released my hand. “Let’s go before all this sentimental bullshit changes my mind.”
Together, we followed Owen through the door and into a large barn-like space, while the Caddie came up behind us. The scent of rotting hay bales intensified, and I covered my nose with the sleeve of my hoodie. Tugging Orla after me, we moved through the dim, cavernous space until we reached a smaller door on the other side of the barn.
Owen stepped through it, and the rush of cool, clean air against my face was like heaven. I inhaled deeply, hoping it could wash away the last few hours from my soul. Dusk had fallen, the darkness of night chasing on its heels. Soon, it would be so dark we’d barely be able to see our hands in front of us.
In the dying light, I saw the Rover I’d driven parked near a dry-stone wall, and I could’ve wept in relief.
“Say your goodbyes, kitten,” Owen told me. “Because afterwards, I’m going to claim what’s mine.”
A shiver tracked down my spine at the coldness in his words, a contrast to the heat blazing in his eyes. Striding forward, bringing Orla with me, I bit down on my bottom lip when she squeezed my fingers too tightly.
“Shit, sorry, Cait,” she said, realizing her mistake and releasing my hand.
I snatched it back, unwilling to let her go just yet. Leaving her the first time had almost ruined me; doing it again would annihilate me. But if it meant she’d be able to live without thisthreat hanging over her head, it was a sacrifice I would willingly make.
When we got to the Rover, I opened the door for her. The internal light was a weak yellow, but it illuminated enough of Orla’s traumatized face to know that what I was about to do was the right thing.
She scrambled into the seat, her breath heaving rapidly. Her wide eyes darted over my shoulder to where I knew Owen’s lackey was hovering.
“Jump in,” she whispered, panic heightening her voice. “Get in, Cait. I can drive us out of here. I can—” She stopped at the shake of my head. “What do you mean, no?”
“I’ve been on the run for almost ten years, Orla. Adecade.” As I sucked in a deep breath and released it, I felt the bone-deep weariness settle over me more firmly. “I’m tired. So damned tired of this. All of this. The running. The lies. Never being able to trust anyone completely and let them know the truth.”
Thick tears fell from her eyes, running down her dirty cheeks. “I need you, Cait.”
