Take It On The Run

Chapter 40

POV: Deacon

The five of us sat around the wall of monitors for over an hour, waiting to pick anything up from Mr. Dawson's spyware. My mind spun the entire time with every terrible thing that could happen to Sloan, which I knew wasn't helpful, but how else was I supposed to react to the love of my life going off to war?

While Mr. Dawson never left his perch before the surveillance equipment, the guys and I were too anxious to just sit and stare and wait. We were still milling about the main room in various stages of working out when the alert went off.

At the shrill beep, I immediately paused mid-pushup and bolted to my feet. The four of us rushed back to the monitors, taking our seats as Sloan's dad zeroed in on a program that hacked and recorded phone calls.

"Who is that?" Sumner's foot tapped rapidly against the stone floor, and I could relate to the anxiety overriding his normally laid-back demeanor.

On a second monitor, Mr. Dawson pulled up a photo of a man with a bright orange beard and hair, but he wasn't your typical ginger. Even in a five-thousand-dollar bespoke suit, the guy looked like a convict. I was fairly sure that he was not only familiar with the inside of a prison cell but that he could also fashion a shank out of a water bottle.

"Daniel Kelly," Mr. Dawson explained. "Liam Murphy's right-hand man, and the only one he trusts enough to retrieve her."

Avery prompted, "Why not hack directly into Liam Murphy's phone instead?"

"Too risky. He's quite paranoid about surveillance." Mr. Dawson turned up the volume bar on the program before delving into the settings to silence the alert. "His master's callin' him now."

The shrill ringing abruptly halted as Daniel Kelly answered. "Head of security's been bought. We're about to intercept Ms. Dawson."

"It's Ms. Gallagher," his master corrected sharply. "Soon to be Mrs. Murphy."

A muscle ticked along my jaw as something primitive and possessive reared its head at the thought of him linking himself to her in any way. More than that, though, Sloan was meant to be cherished, not used as some pawn by criminals, not treated like a sex doll by an entitled prick who could only ever dream of deserving her.

The crony backpedaled. "Apologies, boss."

Liam Murphy spoke again. "I want to know how long she's been here, how she got into the country without my knowledge, and more importantly, who she's fuckin'."

Who did this guy think he was, acting like a jealous husband?

"And if she doesn't comply?" Kelly inquired.

"I'll not be presentin' my fiancé to her granda with marks. If she isn't amenable, I'll fuck the answers I want outta her later."

Sloan's dad looked angrier than I'd ever seen him before. Not in the way I'd expected him to either. His face was unnervingly blank, but those cold, depthless eyes...I could practically see him planning out how he'd make the motherfucker pay for talking about his daughter like that.

At that moment, I fully believed he'd murdered people in a past life.

The lackey chuckled. "Congratulations, boss. Perhaps you'll finally stop runnin' me ragged after you work her outta your system tonight."

Liam Murphy snorted. "'Fraid that'll take longer than a night, Danny. If she looks anythin' like she did when she was fifteen, I'll never tire of eatin' and fuckin' her."

"Sick fuck," Reed spat.

Mr. Dawson released the mouse, which had just been in danger of being crushed beneath his hand, then he grasped the edge of the desk. He was squeezing the furniture so hard his knuckles turned bright white.