* * * * * * * *
A/N: ok, it has come to my humble attention that Dylan's Camaro is white with red racing stripes, not red with white stripes. Oops! Sorry about the error, and from now on I will refer to her car as being white. Thanks to you all for the reviews…let me know if the chapters after this one should be rated R, because I may have no concept of the FanFiction.net rating system. I will have some more UST in the following chapters…*wink* *wink*
* * * * * * * * *
He knew when she got home. Joseph was parked across the street from her apartment complex and saw the white Camaro squeal into it's designated parking place at 9:12. He had radioed Seamus to let him know she was going into the building.
*So you've got our Camaro, eh Helen? Couldn't let go of the memories? * He smirked, thinking of his own memories of them in the car. * Those were good times, weren't they sweetheart?* Helen had always had good taste in cars – she had known more about them than most of his friends. Thus he hadn't been surprised to learn that she had done monster truck racing for a year, or that she had captured several "baddies" through high-speed car chases. She was a speed demon, just like he was.
Seamus sat in the Merkin's captain's office, sharpening his favorite knife. He guessed it would only take her a few minutes to find his letter. She would probably do a search of the apartment, thinking that he was there waiting for her. He wasn't that stupid though. Much smarter and safer to let her come to him. Besides, much as he wanted to kill her, it just wouldn't do to have it end so quickly.
The last few day's events seemed unreal to him – after eight years in prison it was strange to be out, the master of his own destiny once more, free to do whatever the fuck he pleased. Seamus thought about the day he heard he was getting out * 2 days ago? * He had been furiously doing crunches in his cell, his abs groaning with the strain. One of the wardens had approached his cell and said "O'Grady. You're out." Magical words, they were. He had jumped down from the ceiling, landing gracefully from years of practice. His eyes immediately rested on the picture of Helen on his wall. For the last eight years her beautiful picture was the only decoration in his otherwise bleak cell, his one focus. He knew the first thing he wanted to do was find her. All else could wait.
The HALO rings he had been given upon his release hadn't mattered very much to him – they would only insure that Helen came to him, rather than he having to hunt her down. It was his father back in Ireland that was more interested in the rings, since Innis still ran the O'Grady clan and had hundreds of scores to settle. The day after his release, Seamus had heard with interest that a key witness against the O'Gradys had been killed. It was both a convenient death and a suspicious one – convenient in that it would work to lure Helen in, suspicious in that he had no idea who had done it. Neither he nor his men had had anything to do with the murder, but he wasn't sure if it was a merely a coincidence or if someone had purposefully performed the hit. The way Seamus figured, if it was the latter, then someone already had the HALO list – presumably the guy who had given him the rings in the first place. If the list was already out, then there was no fucking way that he was going to pay full price for it…if he ever got a chance to get it back. * Stupid bird and her fucking friends…well, you stupid git, you knew she'd come for it, and get it…it's your own fault. Da is goina kill me*
The phone rang, bringing Seamus abruptly out of his reverie. It was Joseph, calling to report that Helen had just left her house. Setting down the phone, Seamus mentally worked out a time table in his mind. He figured it would take her about an hour and a half to get to the dock, because she would surely want to tie up some loose ends. Just enough time to finish his preparations for her arrival. He wasn't sure why he was so confident that she would come – maybe it was simply his knowledge of her thought process and character that he was sure hadn't changed since he had last seen her. Helen was smart, and she would know that the only answer was to come to him.
Seamus stood and stretched, his tight white t-shirt riding up to reveal the initial H carved into his flesh just at his hip bone. He absently fingered the scar that he had created while in prison. Using only his fingernails, he had dug into his skin night after night to create the small raised letter, a testament to the ultimate betrayal he had suffered. Once a year he would reopen the wound to remind himself of how his only love had ratted him out and left him to rot in prison. Now he wouldn't have to, because soon she would be there with him.
Grabbing his denim jacket from the back of the chair, Seamus strode out of the room. Time to go meet Helen.
