A/N: Sorry to all about the last chappie! LOL More tension to come! Hope you're all enjoying so far. Don't forget! R&R :D

Chapter 10: Hell Hath No Fury

Branna had been gone for two nights. It was making Connor worry. Murphy wouldn't say what had happened, nor did he know where she went. When he'd found out she was gone, he took a midnight trip to her flat to see if maybe she'd gone home, but it was empty. No sign of any entry whatsoever. He was at a loss of where she might be. The thought of what might have gone on in his absence made him a little more than sick to his stomach. He knew instinctually that it had to have been something either Branna did, or Murphy said. But getting a straight answer out of Murphy right now was almost like pulling teeth out of an angry pitbull.

When he'd returned, the night they had seen Romeo, he'd found Murphy half in the bag lying on the couch. Branna was nowhere in sight. He'd felt the tension the second he'd stepped into the room. Something had gone down and if he'd had his notions right, some unkind words were said - most likely shouted, and she'd up and gone.

"Ye mind telling me what the fuck happened?" Connor tried again.

He'd been asking the same question for three straight days. Murphy, sitting opposite him at the table, exhaled a plume of smoke in response to his question with a stoic stare. With a sigh, he butt out his own cigarette and folded his hands on the kitchen table, ready to counter Murphy's reluctance to talk.

"Look, ye know as well as I do that there is some serious shit going down right now. Serious shit that involves Branna and I don't know about ye, but if anything were to happen to her, I know that I wouldn't be able to live with that. She may have made a few mistakes -" When he said that, Murphy raised an eyebrow. "Ok, a lot of mistakes. But the girl's not a fucking criminal. She's a good person."

He sat back, satisfied that he made his point. Murphy's stoic stare turned into a seething abyss. He pushed himself away from the table, shoving the chair as he stood.

"Ye don't need to know. Why can't ye just leave it the fuck be? Ye always got to have yer nose in it! For Christ's fucking sake."

Murphy threw his hands in air, turning to walk away. Connor jumped up and grabbed his arm.

"Leave it the fuck be? Lord's fucking name Murphy! The man Branna is after has fucking photographic evidence of us! Us, the escaped fucking criminals! That makes it me business. That allows me to stick me fucking nose in it! Tell me what the fuck happened!!"

Connor watched his twin glare at him. Ripping his arm away, Murphy paced over to the couch. He could see that his twin was finally coming to terms with the severity of the situation. They needed to find this guy, with or without Branna's help.

"I, it's just that, I don't fucking have a clue." Murphy admitted as he rubbed his face with the palms of his hands.

"We get back, I go to have a lay down and she starts in on me about how she wasn't happy. About how she was never happy after she left. Rambling on about how it was the hardest thing she'd ever done, how she didn't know what was going on between us now, how - fuck everything. She-" Connor watched as Murphy turned red.

"I had to say no. To her." he finished.

Connor cocked an eyebrow at this. Murphy obviously caught his brother's confusion and scowled.

"Don't fucking look at me like that. It was the hardest thing I think I've ever had to do. She was all on top of me and, just fuck off." Murphy added defensively.

Connor raised his hands up in surrender. He understood now. Branna had tried to mend fences, in a confused, somewhat misguided way. Murphy had called it off and doing so had obviously infuriated Branna. Just like a woman to do so. He knew his twin still loved the woman, but he wasn't sure Murph did.

"Say no more brother. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. Hell hath even more fury when that woman be Branna Ferguson."

* * * *

She was running down a side street towards the bakery on Dennison. She always took this route when she went for a run. She never was much of an exercise buff, and it showed in the extra softness to her tummy, but on occasion she loved a good run. Sometimes, you just needed to pound it out on the pavement. The concrete never argues, never tells you no, and never gets in your way. Unless your name is Branna Ferguson.

"Fer fucks sake!" Branna hollered as she picked herself up from the second fall of the morning.

Three days ago, she'd answered his question. Fuck, she'd done more than answer his bloody question. She'd outright gone and told him that she was damn near still in love with him. Yet he told her no! Branna fumed. How was it fair that he could do whatever his heart desired but god forbid she take fate into her own hands? Fucking Murphy MacManus. Rounding a corner, she jogged past the bakery and turned down the back alley entrance to her apartment. She hadn't been there since they'd stopped to pick up what she called 'essentials' a few days before.

After the incident with Murphy three days ago, she'd spent the last couple of nights at a hostel. She'd pulled out whatever little money she had left from her previous job. It was just enough for a few nights stay. Now, she had no choice but to go home. All she hoped was that the brothers had come, seen she wasn't to be found, and given up. Climbing the fire escape steps, she flung open the door to the loft.

At first, she thought she'd stepped into the wrong apartment. Her screen was torn down, her table upended; numerous articles were strewn haphazardly across the floor. There was broken glass in the kitchen, it was a total mess. Her hand flew to her back where she would normally find her Browning Hi Power and instead came across bare skin. Fuck! She'd left all her weapons at the MacManus flat. She had nothing with her. Goddamnit all to hell. Branna listened for any sound of someone in the apartment but there was nothing but the sound of her heavy breathing.

With a sigh she began to collect the broken pieces of the screen shielding the loo, stacking them in a pile by the fire escape. It was obvious someone had broken in, but from what Branna could determine, nothing was missing. Nothing of importance anyways. She couldn't believe she'd left her gun at Murphy's. Her gun was her safety, her protection. Without it, she felt naked as the day she was born. As she moved deeper into the apartment, tidying as she went, she looked up to see a sheet of white paper taped to her front door.

Squinting, she tried to read the fine printing. From this distance it looked like mere chicken scratch. Standing straight, she walked over to the door and ripped the note down. In tiny block letters, she read

"Hiding won't do you any good. I'll find you."

Her breath quickened. The blood pounded in her ears as she read the words over and over. Turning the paper over in her hands she stood speechless. Finally, at the bottom of the page, written in pencil were the words "Juggernaut 9:30" She did a double take, trying to think of what it could mean when the idea hit her.

"Bastard is giving me a head start." She breathed. Her eyes widened. "He thinks I won't find him before he finds me!"

* * * *

Murphy and Connor had spent the last three hours with Romeo going over the photos they'd gotten from Romeo's favour. There were a few distinct shots that the brothers believed could be Colin, but it had been so long they weren't entirely sure.

Murphy glanced over at his brother. He could tell by the frustration in Connor's eyes that he was wishing Branna were there to make a positive identification. His brother sat at the kitchen table thumbing through the photos while Murphy sat on the couch with an open bottle of Jamesons. He was trying not to think about the fact that she was gone.

Again.

All because he'd said no. Why had he said no in the first place? Things were getting so jumbled Murphy couldn't barely remember anything except the way the lamplight of the living room had outlined the curve of her hips as she straddled him three nights ago. Now, she was missing. Probably off trying to find a way to find Colin on her own. She had always been determined.

The sound of a door breaking down drew his attention. Wobbling to a stand, he saw Connor was already holding a gun to the unopened door and was waiting for Murphy to catch the other Beretta he was trying to toss him. He barely caught the pistol when it left Connor's hands. Obviously he'd drank a lot more than he'd thought as he felt the room tilt a bit to the left. Rubbing his face with his hand, he tried to shake off the buzz by focusing on the door.

Connor held the gun up high and slowly turned the knob to open the door.

"Where's me fucking gun." Came a female voice from the other side.

Murphy almost wanted to laugh with relief. It was Branna. She pushed the door aside, shoving Connor back a step. Stepping into the apartment, she repeated her question.

"Where. The. Fuck. Is. Me. Fucking. Gun?"

She looked livid. Her green eyes were fiery against the waves of hair that fell around her shoulders. At first glance, he saw she was dressed casually. A pair of black jogging pants, running shoes and a slightly oversized t-shirt indicated that this was obviously an impromptu visit.

"Right where ye left it." Connor motioned to the chair in living room.

Branna didn't reply, instead she stalked over to the chair and gathered her holster and the small duffle bag she'd left. She pulled the Browning out of the holster, clicked open the magazine and counted her bullets. Murphy watched in fascination as she did the same with the Firestar. She then proceeded to count each of her knives. Satisfied that all was as she had left it. She turned to go.

"Do ye really think ye can catch him?" Murphy called out behind her.

He watched as she stopped dead in her tracks. He hadn't meant to sound sarcastic. Or did he? The Jamesons was really blurring the lines right now. Maybe he should stop. Taking a swig, he put the bottle down on the coffee table and looked up to face the seething woman in front of him.

"It's no business of yers whether I can catch him or not! Not that it matters to ye, but I know exactly where he might be. I'm going there. I need me gun fer that and I was stupid enough to leave it here. So now that I've got it, I'm leaving. Thank ye for all yer help but I can take it from here."

Murphy blinked as she turned to leave. Shaking his head, he sat back down on the couch. Let Connor deal with her. He wasn't of the mind to face that – that – woman. He heard Connor speaking in hushed tones. He couldn't make out what his brother was saying. All he wanted to do was sleep. It was only five o'clock but the whiskey was wearing on him. He felt his eyes close.

Lying in bed, he could feel her breathing lightly. The warm air tickled across his bare chest. Looking down, he saw the whorl of her hair sweeping across his left arm. Her left hand was perched on top of his right, and he could see the bright green gemstone blinking brilliantly in the early afternoon light.

He couldn't believe she'd said yes. He knew she led a life full of secrets, and it was for good reason that she didn't tell him what they were. Seeing Gram's ring on her finger made his heart swell. Finally, he felt at peace.

"Why are ye staring at me like that?" her eyes peered up at him from under the dark mess of her hair.

"Because," he said quietly, running his free hand up her side. .

She seemed satisfied with that answer and kissed his shoulder before rolling over onto her other side. He moved with her, wrapping his arm around her waist pulling her into him. They'd spend all night and most of the morning in bed. It had been glorious. Murphy silently thanked God for bringing him someone who finally understood.

Her breath deepened as he felt her sink into sleep once more. Feeling the familiar tug on his own eyelids, he inhaled deeply and felt himself drift off to join her in his dreams.

"Murphy, get up." Connor was shaking him.

He opened his eyes, dazed. Connor was dragging him off the couch.

"What the fuck!" he managed to squeak out as his ass hit the floor.

"We gotta go. Branna is already gone, but I know where she's going. We have to leave now! Here, get dressed. We have to hurry!" Connor said exasperatedly, holding up a pair of dark wash jeans and a clean black shirt.

He was confused now. Why would he need to change? And how did he find out where Branna was going? Yawning, he stretched off the last of the whiskey and tugged his shirt over his head.

"Where do we have to go in such a fucking hurry?" he asked snidely. "What, Branna can't take care of herself?" He felt his own heart crumble a bit when he heard how that sounded coming out of his mouth.

Connor just glared.

"She went back to her apartment, and Colin and his men had been there. They tore the place apart. Left her a note basically saying she's a dead woman. Branna found a pencil mark on the bottom of the note saying 'Juggernaut 9:30' do ye even know what the fucking Juggernaut is?" His twin looked frustrated at Murphys lack of co-operation. He didn't care right now; all he wanted was for Branna to be gone so that he didn't have to deal with it.

"Aye, some sort of club isn't it?" Murphy replied.

"A fucking club?" Connor looked up to the lord as if asking him to save him from his idiot of a brother.

"It's about the worst kind of club out there. Plenty of those things called roofies, and the drugs flashing around like it's a pharmaceutical party! She's going down there to try and find him. We have to go after her. She's liable to get herself killed!"

Connor was done dressing. Tying up his boots he stood, attaching his pair of Berettas to their holster under his jacket. His brother looked sympathetically over at him.

"I know that as much as ye are angry with the lass, ye don't want to see her dead do ye?"

It wasn't a question. Murphy knew it. With a grim shake of his head, he picked up his own set of pistols and put them away in his own holster.

* * * *

Branna wasn't sure she could see straight anymore. She'd arrived at 7 o'clock to scope out the surroundings. It was dark. That was about all she could really determine. Occasionally there was a flash of coloured lights and a disco ball floated from the rafters, glinting over the crowd of people on the dance floor. The bass made her chest throb. Jesus, was this what the kids were listening to do these days? It felt like her chest was about to explode. She scratched the top of her head. The wig was terribly uncomfortable.

She'd decided on the wig as a disguise. She knew Colin would recognize her with her hair as it was, so on her way to the club, she stopped in to a costume shop and picked up a wig of long blonde hair. It looked real enough, but the bangs were cut so blunt that they tickled the tops of her eyes. It was all she could do to not rip the thing off her head.

Scanning the room, she casually lifted her seventh drink to her mouth, taking a long gulp. Getting drunk wasn't helping the situation, but with no sign of Colin and it being almost ten thirty, she had all but given up. Now, now she was just trying to forget. The dance floor lit up to the beat of the next song, the crowd was gyrating and waving their arms around. Through the sea of people, she caught the sight of twin heads parting their way through the throng. She'd know those heads anywhere.

It was Connor and Murphy MacManus. Fuck.