Thank you all very much for the reviews on the last chapter! I'm glad there's still people that still care about this story line, even though it was six years ago now. And onto the next chapter...


Doyle paced back and forth through his basement, glancing every few seconds at the closed door to the little room that held the woman he loved. When he'd bought Thollivyn, he'd had part of the basement cleaned out, had ventilation installed and had it separated into a handful of rooms. Two of the three rooms were medical facilities, which he'd had stocked and set-up for whatever medical treatment one might require. In his line of work, hospitals were not an option. Hospitals brought police officers and questions.

The rooms had everything except medication. He even had surgery tools and saline bags, because in his line of work, getting shot, stabbed or blown-up was not entirely unusual. He imagined one day he, himself, would actually use the room, or Liam, or maybe even one of the other men that he liked. He suspected he would use the identical room he had in his villa in Tuscany one day as well. But he'd never imagined Lauren would be in either room, fighting for her life.

Ian glanced at the room, and his hand clenched in a fist. He wanted to kill McNiall again, and this time he wanted to use his bare hands. A noise distracted him, and Louise was at the foot of the stairs, folded clothes in her arms.

"You should change you clothes and wash-up," she said, nodding in his direction.

He looked down at himself, and his whole body froze. Her blood.

Her blood was all over him. Red flakes were falling off his hands and arms, and red was smeared all over his bare chest. Even his coat and pants had red on them. Ian opened his mouth, but no words came to mind. Instead, he nodded at Louise, and followed her upstairs to the bathroom off the kitchen.

She set the clothes on the counter and took his coat from him. Before leaving she said, "I said a few prayers for her. I'll keep saying them."

The door shut, leaving him alone, and he turned on the sink faucet to hot. Ian began the process of scrubbing Lauren's blood off of him, and he continued with a diligence and thoroughness that would make any surgeon proud. His skin went from red to pink, but still it wasn't enough. He wanted to rub the whole day off of him, like hitting the rewind button. He wanted to redo it, and when he did, he would be firmly planted at Lauren's side for the duration.

But that wasn't possible.

Ian did not cry. Years of growing up the punching bag of the older boys and the whipping boy of their supposed caregivers in an Irish orphanage taught him that tears only made things worse. Instead, he finished scrubbing himself off, and dressed in the clean clothing Louise had provided for him. Then he went back downstairs to wait.

He had been with many women over the years, but never had he felt for any of them what he felt for Lauren. None of them even came close.

So, he waited.


"Bleeding Hell, what the fuck happened here?" Clyde hissed at his team, the four of them standing 100 feet away from a burning barn.

This had been the meeting place between Ian Doyle and his seller, Ardan McNiall, a meeting that had clearly gone south. The local fire unit was at the barn, trying to dampen the inferno. They had no idea what went down at the buy, because they couldn't afford to be spotted in the area and there was really nowhere to hide any of them. They had no idea if the burning flesh they smelled was Doyle and his men or McNiall and his crew. And they didn't know if Emily was inside the barn, already dead and little more than a charred corpse.

"We should have called the bloody thing off," Sean said. He looked as pissed as Clyde felt, and he was right.

Last night, Jeremy had dug up some information on Ardan McNiall that suggested this meeting may not go smoothly. McNiall was in debt up to his ears and the men holding the debt were threatening to take his little sister and her kids as payment. McNiall was desperate for a good sale. Clyde had assumed the man would have quality weapons then, so the deal would be fine, but something had happened to change that. Something went terribly wrong.

"Clyde!" He turned to see Tsia shutting her phone, and walked quickly over to her. She slid the device back in her pocket. "I just heard from a local cop, who heard from one of his CIs. One of Doyle's guys came into a bar an hour ago, looking all shaken up. He said that McNiall stabbed Doyle's girlfriend and Doyle and his men slaughtered McNiall and his guys."

"Stabbed?"

She nodded. "He wouldn't say much about that, but we know that Doyle has a doctor on his payroll and has ordered medical supplies in the past."

"You think that he took Emily to his house to have this doctor work on her?" Sean asked, moving closer to them.

Tsia nodded. "While a hospital would certainly be better, I think this is good for Emily's chances. That doctor has to know that Doyle will kill him is she doesn't make it."

"Yes, but if he's on Doyle's payroll, he's likely corrupt and how good a doctor could he be?" Clyde asked. He ran his hands over his head and groaned. "Fuck!"

"Jeremy!" Sean called to their fourth member, who had still been staring at the burning barn, but jogged over to them at the sound of his name. "Take a drive by Thollivyn. Let us know what you see."

The German man nodded and hurried off to one of their vehicles. Clyde looked at Sean. "Isn't giving orders my job?"

"When you can think clearly, sure. But that's not now."

Clyde said nothing but began to pace as they waited for word from Jeremy. He'd been walking back and forth for about ten minutes when a hand on his shoulder startled him. It was Tsia who stopped his pacing and looked him in the eye. "Emily is strong. She will survive and she'll be pissed as Hell that she didn't get to kill McNiall herself."

He didn't laugh or smile. "I promised her that no one would harm her, Tsia. I swore that we'd all have her back, that I'd have her back."

Tsia shook her head. "Now that's just a stupid promise to make. She's deep undercover, no one can guarantee her safety. That promise was just to make you and her feel better, and you both know it."

He knew she was right, but that didn't change the fact that he hadn't been able to keep his promise. He'd always had her back before and she had his, even when undercover. But this assignment was different and they'd both known it. Emily was in danger every second she was with Doyle.

Sean's phone rang then. The Scotsman answered with his usual gruff greeting, spoke briefly with the person on the other line and ended the call with little fanfare. Then he walked over to them. "That was Jeremy."

"And?" Clyde asked.

"Thollivyn is quiet. He used the scope, but all he could see was the usual men standing guard and the housekeeper's boy playing on the floor in the living room."

"He didn't see Doyle anywhere?" Tsia's face was strained as she spoke, a clear sign that she'd been hoping that Jeremy would see something that could quiet their fears.

Sean shook his head. "But, we can't see all the rooms, even with the scope."

"Tell Jeremy to hang around until Doyle appears."

"Already done."

Clyde glanced at the barn, which the firefighters seemed to finally have successfully doused. "Back to Finnegan Street. There's nothing we can do for Emily."

He tried not to feel like they were giving up.


It was dark when the doctor finally emerged from the makeshift surgery suite, late night already. His blue scrubs were purple with blood and Ian tried not to vomit at the sight. The trauma surgeon, who worked in an emergency room, had a penchant for gambling. Ian had paid off those debts, and now he owned the good doctor and his skills with a scalpel. However, if Lauren was dead, the doctor would be as well. He waited as the man snapped off his bloodied latex gloves and stretched out his body.

Through a clenched jaw, he asked, "How is she?"

"Stable. The knife nicked her liver and bowel, but both cuts were small and easily repaired, at least after I located them. She lost a tremendous amount of blood, and we've already gone through everything that I brought. She could probably get by on what she's got, but she'll be stronger if we transfuse more, so I'm going back to the hospital. I'll pick up more blood, more antibiotics, and some painkillers for when she wakes up. Maggie, the nurse, is going to stay here with her. She'll monitor Lauren for now."

"Can you move her upstairs, where she'll be more comfortable?"

He released a long breath. "I'd like to keep her down here for 24 hours, just in case I need to go back in."

Doyle nodded and extended a hand. "Thank you, Travis."

They shook and he said, "She's a fighter, Ian. I could tell just from working on her."

That almost brought a smile to his lips. "You've no idea."

After Travis left, Ian walked into the room where they'd operated on the woman he loved and for the moment, had saved her life. Maggie was already glancing at the monitoring equipment Ian had paid for and making notations on a chart. He was incredibly thankful that he'd bought that equipment now. He stepped close to the bed, and saw the woman he loved, her body still, her face ashen and it terrified him. The nurse stepped out then, leaving him alone with her.

She was too still and too quiet. Ian leaned down and pressed a kiss to her lips, before taking her hand. He sat with her hand clasped between both of his and his head bowed and prayed that God wouldn't take her away yet. Not when he'd only just found her. After several minutes he pulled his head up and kissed her hand again, his eyes sliding to the monitors. He whispered to the silent room, "Please hang on for me, Lauren."

His eyes grew wet and he blinked it away, taking a deep breath to gather himself. She looked so frightfully pale, even her lips looked bloodless. But she hadn't been intubated during the surgery that was a good sign, that meant that her heart and brain continued to be strong enough to keep her lungs pumping without assistance. He smiled, it would take far more than a knife wound to stop Lauren, he was sure of it. But that didn't explain why he was so terrified.

"Papa?" A soft, high voice drew his attention away from Lauren. Declan stood in the doorway, eyes wide, frightened at the hospital scene. Barely two and a half, and already the boy found his way everywhere.

"What are you doing up, Declan?" He should have long been asleep.

"Tromlui," he said, using the Gaelic word for nightmare.

"Oh, where's Louise?"

Declan only shrugged, his gaze falling toward the ground. She was probably in bed and Ian knew that all the commotion today had likely frightened the boy. He exhaled. "It's alright, Declan. Come here."

He set Lauren's hand back next to her body and held a hand out to the toddler. Declan walked slowly to him, eyes sliding back toward Lauren on the hospital bed.

When he got close enough, Ian swung the boy up onto his lap and spoke softly to him. "This is Papa's special friend, Lauren. She's very sick."

Declan pressed his body close to his father, then pointed to Lauren with his chubby pointer finger. "She feel better."

"Yes, we'd like her to feel better."

"She pretty."

Ian smiled. "She's very pretty." He sighed and kissed the top of his son's head. Then he looked at the boy. "Do you remember how to pray, Declan?"

Declan nodded his head, practically head-banging in the typical overly-enthusiastic manner of a child, and then put his hands together palm-to-palm, fingertips facing up. Ian put his hands over Declan's. "Let's pray that God protects Lauren while she heals, shall we?"

Declan nodded again and bowed his head. Ian did the same, his arms wrapped around his son as they sat. After a while, Declan seemed to get tired of the position and began to wiggle. Ian adjusted them so Declan was leaning back against his chest, and together they sat quietly. Eventually Declan nodded off and Ian sat and stared at the love of his life, willing her to heal, to stay with him forever.