"Thirty seconds. That's all you have to stop the bullshit, or your son is dead."
~~~~
Six years ago, Chelsea Doherty lost everything when her husband disappeared without a trace and left her to clean up his past. Now living in Ireland, she has piec...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Dublin Airport, Ireland
June 2024
~~~~
Scrolling through my messages once again, I scoff at Anton's last text.
If U are with her, I'll f-en end U both.
Is he truly that delusional to think that this would intimidate me? Or make me come back to him?
Motherfucking moron.
Approaching the plane, the driver slows down the cab just as Chelsea folds the soft cloth she used to wipe the earth from the flowerpot off my gun. "Here, all done."
"Awe, thank you. You did so much." Patching me up, washing my clothes, now cleaning my Glock. I slide the weapon into my holster and accept the offered magazine. "I still can't believe you had us sneak out of your house. What will your mother think of me?"
"Trust me, after that pissass introduction, she is the last person you ever want to meet face to face."
"You should've at least let me apologize for hurling all over her front yard."
She smirks. "The "God save the King" comment blew your chances with her. You were lucky you made it out of the house alive."
"Ugh." Such a dumbshit moment.
The cabbie stops the car and turns around. "That would be two hundred and thirty euros."
Say what?
The drive was less than an hour. Taxi rides in this country are extortion. I count our 5 fifties and pass the money across the seat. "Here's an extra twenty if you carry the luggage on the plane."
He quirks a brow.
Buddy, seriously?
With a huff, I dig out another twenty euros. "Is that enough?"
He clicks his tongue as if offended but pockets the money and gets out of the cab. Popping the trunk, he heaves Chelsea's suitcase out and carries it up the steps. I don't envy him. That thing weighs a ton.
He returns not even a minute later; I wait until he is in his taxi and on his way. Behind Chelsea's back, I slide the ammo into my gun and rack it as I replace it into the holster. Following her up the stairs, I step onto the plane. Beth's cheerful good afternoon can't hide her distress. Her eyes are inflamed and her cheeks are puffy and red. She has been crying her heart out.
"What happened?"
She can't hold my gaze.
Her despair fuels the anger burning in my chest. "Did Mr. Worcheck upset you?"
She glances at Anton and drops her voice to a whisper. "He was in one of his moods, but honestly, it's not a big deal."
Oh, it's a very big deal. He can be mad at me all he wants, but I won't tolerate this utter cruelty toward the staff.
