Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 121871 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 609(@200wpm)___ 487(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121871 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 609(@200wpm)___ 487(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
With a pinch of her lips, she gestured to the boat. “I’ll need to make sure it’s the right kind of fish.”
“Then you’ll need to come closer.”
The biggest bloke at her back, who had a saddle nose and the big meaty fists of a boxer, grunted in displeasure.
“I’ll be fine.” Siobhan waved him off before walking confidently up our gangplank.
Fraser wedged open the crates and lifted the board between the fish and the drugs inside to show her. It was a first time I was getting a look at the cake.
Fuck. There were thousands and thousands of pounds’ worth of cocaine in there.
“I need to sample it.”
“No one said anything about that. The longer we dally here, the more likely we are to get caught. You want to sample the fish in plain sight?”
She threw me a scathing glance before she bent over, hiding her hand inside the crate. To my shock she flipped open a switch knife that seemed to appear out of nowhere. She cut open a bag and it spilled into the crate. Siobhan didn’t seem to care one whit. Instead, she scooped a tiny amount onto the back of her other hand, tucked the switch knife into her pocket, and straightened. She wiped her hand over her nose, snorting inconspicuously. It just looked like she was wiping her face. Once she’d dusted off any remains of the powder, she stood for a second, not saying a word.
My heart felt like it was about to explode.
Finally, Siobhan turned to the men who waited below and nodded. There were a few minutes of awkward silence as her man made a phone call. Siobhan studied every single one of us, like she was searching for something. When her gaze lingered on DS Davis, I held my breath.
Then the burner phone Joshua Hughes gave me rang. I slipped it out of my back pocket and answered it, trying not to sound as nervous as I felt.
“Got the money,” an unfamiliar voice said. “Make the delivery.” He hung up.
They didn’t know, then?
Surely that meant we’d gotten away with this?
“Let’s unload.”
The next fifteen minutes were probably the worst of the operation as we drew closer to bringing this thing to an end. After all, the plan was that as soon as these crates started going into Cosway’s van, simultaneous arrests and raids would begin.
My heart was in my goddamn throat as we carried the last of the crates to the delivery vehicle. I’d just backed up from handing over one to Siobhan’s goon when everything slowed down as shouts of officers poured into the scene, guns raised and pointed at the Cosways. I was pushed to the side, stumbling back into Fraser as the undercover officers moved into position too, guns magically appearing in their hands. I didn’t have time to wonder where they’d gotten the weapons because one of the men with Siobhan wouldn’t lower his gun.
Siobhan was already on her knees, hands behind her head, multiple weapons pointed at her face. The others were surrendering and lowering to the ground.
Except that one.
The one with the saddle nose.
His gaze swung frantically along with his gun until it alighted on me. Expression morphing into rage, he said something I couldn’t hear over the noise of the shouting officers as he pulled the trigger.
45. London
It felt like the hospital floor bobbed and weaved beneath my feet as I hurried through its halls. Like I was on a boat, ironically enough. Despite the assurances around me and the feel of Ramsay’s strong hand on my back guiding me through wide corridors with floors that squeaked underfoot, I was overtaken with panic.
Around thirty-six hours ago, Murray had left to embark on a dangerous undercover operation and now I was here at a hospital in Dublin. In freaking Ireland. Without him. Kelly was back on Glenvulin with Fiona, and I wasn’t sure that was fair, but that’s what had been decided.
Truthfully, I’d imagined a million horrors over the past day and a half, and no matter what I was told, I still felt close to passing out.
“This way.” Ramsay stopped me, gesturing with his head toward a private hospital room.
I sucked in a deep breath, and he frowned but didn’t say anything before he knocked and pushed the door open.
Tentatively, I stepped inside, my gaze automatically zooming in on the bed. But movement in my periphery drew my frantic search as Murray unfolded himself from the chair in the corner of the room. I think I let out a small animal sound as my knees buckled, but Murray caught me, sweeping me up into his arms as I let go of all my anxiety.
“A ghràidh, I’m here,” he murmured gruffly in my ear, his embrace unyielding. “I’m here, a ghràidh.”
The sobs shook through me even as I pulled back to move my hands over his chest, making sure he was whole and unhurt.