Page 33 of The Celtic Resolution
“Perfect. I’ll be there in an hour.”
In the hour between hanging up the call and driving to the Black Ox, I do absolutely nothing. I should go home and do laundry, call Cian about the masquerade people, maybe even callmy doctor about my baby but all of that sounds too exhausting so instead, I park by an intersection and just sit there. My thoughts tumble over one another as I struggle for something to focus on because everything feels too much. This issue with the drug discrepancies and guns is growing more worrying if the Triad spoke the truth. Hiding people in our international weapon shipments isinsaneand I’ll need to check out the docks as well as border security. Can something like that really be happening when our shipments are getting flagged more than usual? And just how deeply are the Irish connected? Finding outwhois going to be challenge. Between this and the baby, I barely have time to breathe and I know I should do something about it. I should tell someone.
But as soon as I do that, this baby becomes real and I’m not ready for that. Not yet.
Throwing myself into work is the only distraction I have right now and as long as we wrap this up in a couple of months, I’ll still have time. Thoughts of the baby torment me all the way to the Black Ox but as I pull up into the parking lot across the street, the sight of Bruno walking down the road brings me an odd sense of calm.
Shit. I barely know the guy and already he’s got me feeling shit I shouldn’t feel. Parking, a smile slips onto my face and stays there as I climb out of my car.
Suddenly, Bruno yells from across the road and I look up in time to see Bruno being tackled to the ground.
15
BRUNO
“What the fuck?”
We hit the ground hard and something solid and heavy collides with my forehead. My stomach lurches as a boot collides with my gut and whatever struck me the first time smacks into my head once more. I roll over, raising my hands to my face to protect myself and fall down the curb onto the road. Above me, a hooded figure with a mask stands over me, aiming their handgun right at me while a crowbar dangles loosely from their other hand.
“Bye-bye,” croaks a deep voice, and the entire world freezes.
Is this it? Is this really how I go out? Caught by surprise outside the safest bar in all of New York, shot in the gutter like a dog?
The gun goes off and I flinch sharply, waiting for the inevitable rush of life-ending pain somewhere in my body but oddly enough, it doesn’t come. Instead, the person above me violently flinches backward, dragged by their shoulder and the crowbar clatters loudly to the ground. Another gunshot goes off and they duck, then they’re sprinting away from me down the street like the hounds of hell are biting at their ankles.
“Bruno!” Saoirse sprints over from the other side of the street with her gun raised and while she glares after the retreating attacker, I’m relieved she chooses to help me instead.
As embarrassing as this is, I don’t want her chasing after an armed gunman by herself.
Holy shit.
Adrenaline dulls the pain from the blows but as I move to sit up, something hot and sticky pours down past my eye and blinds me. “Ah-!”
“What is it?” Saoirse’s recognizable hands clutch at my neck and wrist. “Shit, Bruno. Your head is split open.”
“What the fuck is going on?” yells Hazel as the front door to the Black Ox creaks open and the tell tale chug of a shotgun being loaded reaches my ears. “Saoirse, you alright?”
“I’m fine, Hazel. The fucker bolted. Can you call Cormac? He’ll want to know about this.”
“Sure, hon. Get him inside, through to the back.”
Their voices wash over me and I follow Saoirse’s guiding hands as she hauls me to my feet. As soon as I’m upright, pressure tightens in my head and a wave of dizziness follows but her arm is around my waist and she’s strong enough to support me as I sway.
“Come on, big guy,” she murmurs, tightening her arm around my waist. Saoirse leads me into the Black Ox while I do what I can to stem the blood flow pouring into my eyes with my hands.
“Should I call an ambulance?” comes Hazel’s voice to my left.
“No, no.” There’s a tang of copper on my tongue which alarms me until I realize the blood has trickled into my mouth. “I swear I’m fine.”
“Bruno,” Saoirse warns.
“Honestly, I feel fine. Worse than it looks.”
“You can’t even see!” She snaps but there’s no real heat to her words. The bar creaks, a door swings open with a swish and a light switch clicks as I’m guided about until Saoirse’s hands move to my shoulders and she guides me down to rest against a table.
“Here’s the kit,” comes Hazel’s voice. “I have 911 on standby so the second you think he needs it, just holler.”
“Will do, thanks Hazel.”
