"When did that start up again?"

Catherine's stomach somersaulted; the color drained from her face. She searched for words to answer the question. Dessie shifts into third gear so he could pass a slower-moving car on the divided highway. They were leading the pack of cars over the border.

"Couple'a days ago. It's not like I planned it nor is it anythin' serious."

She noticed his knuckles turning white as his right hand gripped the top of the steering wheel. "I mean I get it, he's your boy's da."

For some reason, hearing that made her feel like the biggest asshole in the world. Only on the rare occasion did they talk about her relationship with Jimmy. That was part of the reason why she enjoyed his company so much. When she spent time in Crossmaglen, Dessie's only focus was making sure she, Eamonn, and Sean had fun. When the four of them were together, there were no worries, no stress. She hated to think the decision to let her guard down with Jimmy hurt him.

"I'm sorry, so I am. It's not like I'm gettin' back together with him or anythin'."

"You don't have to explain yourself. I'm a big boy; unlike Jimmy, I can handle rejection."

"Dessie-"

"It was one drunken night. Not love at first sight."

Catherine furrowed her brow, thinking back to that night. "I wasn't drunk. Were...were you drunk?"

"Nope," he answered, clearing his throat.

That was a lie he told himself. He couldn't admit he made the rookie mistake of falling in love with a broad who rode his cock once over six months ago.

"Holy shit, that's one of the vans," Dessie said, pointing ahead of them on the open road.

Trees and shrubs flashed passed them in the white headlights of the Ford. She sat up a little straighter, leaning into the dashboard so she could get a better look. Catherine unbuckled her belt, reaching into the back for the rifle. She popped in the magazine and chambered a round.

"Aye, it is."

The Donegal identifier on the plate was too much of a coincidence.

The van was only two hundred yards or so ahead of them. Not far enough for her to miss the shot, but the wind would prove to be a challenge.

Pulling back the shade over the sunroof, she opened it all the way then shimmied her top half out. The curves of the road were gradual, making it easy for Dessie to navigate and anchor Catherine.

"You good?" he yelled.

Positioning the rifle, she tilted her head, closed one eye and tried to line up the shot. "Can you get closer?"

For a quick second, Dessie let go of her and upshifted, further closing the distance. She felt his firm hold back on her. Again she lined up. Much better.

Curling her finger around the trigger, Catherine pulled it twice. As the rounds exploded through the barrel, the butt of the Armalite kicked back into her shoulder.

The van didn't slow down. She muttered, "fuck," realizing she missed. She tried three more times and missed it again.

Refusing to feel defeated, Catherine slunk back into the seat.

"There's too much wind. I can't get a good shot."

"I've an idea."

Peering into the other lane, Dessie made sure there was no oncoming traffic. He veered over, trying the best he could to get into the van's blind spot. Before he could, the van made a sudden left turn.

"They know we're right behind 'em," he said. Dessie somehow managed to round the bend, never losing sight of them.

"Should've had you teach me to drive." Catherine looked back. Unease settled into her bones once she saw Jimmy, Donny, Jack, and Kieran were no longer behind them.

Dessie chuckled. It took him a lot of years of running from the British Army and RUC in south Armagh's hills to teach him the skills he had.

Grabbing her pistol from the door compartment, Catherine put her seatbelt back on. She rolled down the window and leaned out.

"Jesus Christ, be careful!"

Considering they were on an unmarked country road, she aimlessly started shooting. Emptying the magazine, she only managed to hit the taillight.

Releasing the magazine out of the Glock, she tossed it on the floor and Dessie handed her a fresh one. With the new one popped in, she pulled the slide, then lifted her arms to aim.

This time when she looked up, she saw a man in a balaclava hanging out the passenger window of the van. She scrambled to get back in the car but wasn't fast enough. One of the headlights shattered, and another nicked the windshield.

Dessie swerved, slowing down, though not enough to lose the van.

"Motherfucker!" Sliding back into the car, Catherine threw the pistol to her feet. She rested her elbow on the door and looked at the hole burned right through the upper arm of her sweatshirt.

"Did you get hit?"

"Aye. It's only a graze, though."

Before Dessie could ask how bad it was, the van came to a screeching halt as they plowed through an intersection. He locked up the brakes, avoiding a nasty collision.

A car pulled out of a driveway perpendicular to the van, making it impossible for Dessie to swerve around. He glanced into the rearview mirror in hopes of there being a way out. Instead, two Range Rovers came from either direction, blocking the intersection. They were completely separated from the rest of the guys.

A classic IRA roadblock technique Dessie had used many times before.

"Son-a-bitch, Dessie! It's a fuckin' setup!"

Catherine looked behind them and saw four men exiting the Range Rovers. Swiveling her head, there were three men in front. All wore balaclavas and held rifles.

Turning off the engine, Dessie then grabbed Catherine by the collar of her sweatshirt. He pulled her down across the center console and climbed on top of her as bullets began puncturing the car.

Glass shards from the rear windshield and windows sprayed around them. He curled his arms over his head to protect it and his neck. Beneath him, Catherine didn't move thanks to the position she contorted into. She was more focused on the screaming, white-hot pain tearing through her upper body.

As fast as it started, the firing stopped. Even then Dessie refused to sit up until he heard the loud slam of car doors closing and tires squealing.

"Ya think it's safe?"

"Aye." he lifted off her, "if they wanted us dead, they would'a pulled us out of the car and double-tapped us in the middle of the road."

Her hand was trembling so bad, Dessie unclipped the seatbelt for her. He got out of the car spotting a parade of headlights coming in their direction. He also found it odd the Real army left their black van behind.

Four cars stopped several yards behind them.

Relief swallowed Dessie whole when members of his crew jumped out of the vehicles. Jimmy and Donny followed close behind as they all ran to see what happened.

"Youse okay?" Donny asked.

"I'm fine," Dessie said, shaking the glass out of his shirt. "Feckers cornered us and shot the car to shite. Catherine's pretty shaken up; got hit in the arm a way back."

Hearing that, Jimmy bolted right for Catherine. She was still sitting in the car when he approached, so he opened the door and pulled her out.

"Mother'a Christ, are you okay?"

Her adrenaline was so high, Catherine wasn't feeling much of anything.

Jimmy picked pieces of glass from her hair as he examined her face for any injury. There wasn't a single scratch on her.

"Dessie pulled me down in time, but this happened when we tailed 'em on the highway."

Tugging on the sleeve of her sweatshirt, her eyes bulged when she felt how soaked the fabric was.

Dessie grabbed a small medical bag from the trunk of Jack's car and dropped it on the ground. Using the dim light of his phone, he rummaged around for gauze and tape.

"Youse didn't get shot at?" she asked, taking her sweatshirt off enough to free her arm.

"No," Jimmy shook his head. "As soon as youse made that turn, a car comin' from the opposite direction blocked the road."

Jack held a flashlight for Dessie and filled in the rest of the details. "We pulled off a bit north of here, but doubled back once we heard the gunfire."

"This could be them sendin' the message they're expandin' out of Derry," Dessie said, taping the gauze.

Catherine didn't see it the same way as Dessie. Her distrust for the Kings ran so deep, she thought for sure this was set up by them to take out she and Dessie.

"Either way, we gotta get the hell outta here quick because there's no way of knowin' if they tipped off the peelers. Ya got any ammonia, my blood is-"

A massive bang and an orange fireball lit up the quiet dark countryside. The shockwave of the van exploding sent them tumbling hard to the ground.

Catherine curled into the fetal position, struggling to catch her breath after having the wind knocked out her. Every muscle in her body ached, her head throbbed from smacking it against the pavement. The ringing in her ears was so intense she could hardly hear anything. Burning diesel and sodium nitrate was a scent that made her gag.

Rolling on to her back, she was sluggish to sit up. It was difficult for her to concentrate, and her vision blurred in and out.

"Catherine!"

She heard her name, but she didn't recognize whose voice it was. It sounded muffled; far away.

"Catherine!"

Jimmy knelt in front of her. He tucked his hands under her armpits so he could help her up to her feet. She placed a hand on his shoulder to help steady her balance. She watched his mouth move, but she couldn't understand a single word he said.

Looking to her right, she squinted her eyes as they settled on the rolling fire which engulfed the van.

"Catherine!" Finally, the ringing in her ears subsided enough for it to register he was trying to get her attention. "Are you okay?"

Tearing her eyes away from the fireball, she focused on him. She reached out and brushed away the beads of blood from the cuts above his eyebrow. "You're bleedin'."

"You feelin' okay?"

"A wee bit woozy."

It took her longer than he was comfortable with to answer.

Jimmy held her face in his hands, trying to see if there were wounds worse than the cuts and scrapes.

"We gotta get out of here," she said, reality finally sinking in.

Pulling out of Jimmy's grasp, Catherine took the small canister of ammonia from Dessie. As she sprayed it on the blood all over the ground, he started removing the fake plates off the car.

Once he finished, the south Armagh crew got to work removing the weapons and soaking the Ford in diesel. Dessie lit a cigarette and tossed it on the saturated passenger seat. It did take long before it too was up in flames.

As they scattered back to the other cars, Jimmy grabbed Catherine's wrist. "You're comin' with us."

She looked down at her wrist. The way his fingers curled around it made her sick. Her entire life he's had that grip on her, always telling her what to do and when. Who she could and couldn't see. She wasn't a child anymore; she was thirty-years-old with children of her own. If Catherine wanted to head back to Dundalk with Dessie, that's exactly what she was going to do.

Ripping out of his hold, she found her voice. "No. I'll meet ya at the safe house."

He watched in disbelief as she took off behind Dessie, who held open the rear car door for her. It scared him to see she was acting the same way again when Darragh came into her life full-time. He couldn't lose her and Eamonn to another man; not again.

"Jimmy! We're all pretty busted up so I'll have a doc swing by the place and suture."

Too bad the shard of metal that sliced through Dessie's thigh didn't make him bleed out on the street, thought Jimmy.

Sliding in next to Catherine, Dessie barely got the door shut before Jack made a U-turn.

With three adults crammed into the backseat, it was a tight fit. Though, he wasn't going to complain about having her all but sitting on his lap. Not wanting to make a show of anything in front of his men, Dessie was sly lacing his fingers with hers.

Much to his surprise, she didn't pull away or lazily rest her hand against his. Catherine squeezed back and rubbed the pad of her thumb against his calloused one. She even scooched in a little closer.

The drive to the border was silent. They were all replaying the events over and over in their minds, trying to figure out what signs they missed. Dessie felt he failed miserably as a brigade commander tonight. Under his watch, Catherine got shot and he ignored his gut feeling about the bombing. There was no other reason for the Real army to leave the van behind. He prayed like hell the other units didn't fall into the same trap.

"I don't know about you fellas," Catherine said, "but I sure as shite could use a drink."


It was after midnight by the time they arrived in Dundalk.

Exiting from the cars, Catherine rolled her eyes when Jimmy walked right passed her. He didn't so much as acknowledge her presence, completely ignoring her request to bum a smoke.

Dessie tossed her his pack of Camel's instead, then followed everyone else inside. She needed a minute alone to collect her thoughts before facing Patrick looking the way she did.

When she finished smoking, she crushed the butt under her boot.

Patrick ambushed her before she even got through the door. She could smell the whiskey lingering on his breath as he took her face in his hands, examining the damage.

Almost being blown to hell upset her less than Patrick drinking around her boys.

"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. Your ma is gonna shite bricks when she sees the likes of you."

"Thanks, Da."

"Looks worse than it probably is," he noted, brushing glass and small pebbles from her facial cuts. "You best start thinkin' hard about what you're gonna tell those boys of yours when they ask what happened."

Catherine chuckled, though her sides ached when she did. "Easy, I'll tell 'em what you always told us growin' up."

"That's my girl. If ya don't make a deal of it, neither will they. Now, run upstairs and try to clean up the best ya can; doc should be here soon to look at ya."

She hugged Patrick, then headed upstairs to the bathroom. Behind her, she left the door unlocked and started peeling off her sweatshirt. The pain ripping through her left arm made her grit her teeth when she raised it above her head.

Tossing the hoodie on the counter, Catherine looked at the blood-soaked gauze. She was afraid to take the tape off, not wanting to see how bad it looked. This was the first time she's ever caught a bullet and she didn't plan on doing it ever again.

Doing the best she could, Catherine tied her hair into a bun so it was out of her face. Under the lights above the sink, she was thankful to see Patrick was right. The cuts were minor; it was the crusty blood making her look gut-wrenching. It could have been worse. Far worse. This was nothing to dwell on.

Twisting on the cold water tap, she first washed her hands. The suds from the soap turned an odd black reddish hue from blood and soot. Her entire body bore traces of explosives and all she wanted to do was scrub herself raw in a scalding shower. She wasn't thrilled to part ways with her favorite jeans, but she couldn't risk bringing them home.

Gently, she brushed away the debris from her face, not wanting to rub it deeper into the wounds. Thankfully they stopped bleeding a while ago, nor did they hurt.

As she washed her face, she heard a faint knock on the door. Expecting it to be Jimmy, she was quick to call out, "Come in."

With her eyes closed as she splashed soap off her face, Catherine didn't see Dessie was the one who squeezed behind her. When she turned the water off and looked into the mirror, the unexpected guest startled her.

"What's up, Dess?" she asked, patting her face with a towel.

He rested his back against the wall, looking at her through the mirror. "Wanted to make sure you're okay. It's my fault everythin' went to shite tonight."

Folding the towel and placing it on the counter, Catherine met his gaze. The helpless expression on his face tore her heart to shreds. Dessie reminded her so much of Darragh. He was too hard on himself and took responsibility for things that were never in his control in the first place.

"Hey," she cooed, turning around. Catherine brushed her finger under his chin. "Don't ya go blamin' yourself for anythin' that bloody happened tonight. This is all on me - I'm the one who broke orders and decided to go after 'em."

"Doesn't matter. My gut told me-"

Catherine placed her finger on his lips, a move he hadn't anticipated. He couldn't help but find the show of dominance to be wholly sexy. "Shite happens and there's nothin' we can do to change it. All we can do is regroup, then try to figure out where to go from here."

Dessie wasn't sure if she was talking about the botched operation or their relationship. He took a shot. "Where do you wanna go from here?"

"Right now? I haven't the slightest clue...my life if an absolute mess."

"I can change that. You and the boys come to Cross with me, Catherine."

"Dessie," she groaned, spinning around and placing her hands on the counter. "It's not that simple."

"Why can't it? We've been playin' this stupid game since ya came down to train with me and I'm sick of it; I really am. You act like you don't deserve happiness and ya do. Look, I know I'll never mean as much to you as Darragh, but I can see ya strugglin' with your feelin's about me. You wanna be with me and I wanna be with you; sounds goddamn simple to me."

"Jimmy'll never let me take Eamonn to Cross."

"Fuck Jimmy O'Phelan! Ya think I won't protect youse from that devil?"

Catherine hung her head. She didn't doubt for a second that Dessie would ever allow Jimmy to drag her to hell. What she hated the most was that she wasn't sure what was keeping her from giving him a chance.

Her life was a miserable storm of violence, resentment, and loneliness. When she was around Jimmy, she wasn't at ease. But with Dessie, she felt she could breathe.

And he hated watching the woman he remembered to be so full of life become a shell. Only outside of Belfast's city limits did he see a glimmer of who she used to be.

Taking a step forward, he placed his hands on her sides. "It may not turn out to be some great love, but ya never know. We'd only be hurtin' ourselves if we didn't try."

Squeezing her eyes shut, Catherine choked back her tears. She remembered what Darragh said to her one afternoon on the Falls Road:

"I'm not askin' you to run down to St. Peters with me and get married. All I'm sayin' is that we owe it to ourselves to try. Somethin' grand can build between us and I know I'm not the only one who thinks that."

Giving Darragh that chance turned out to be the greatest decision she ever made in her life. What they had was grand.

Dessie was right; she did want him as much as he wanted her.

"Jimmy'll come after ya."

"I can handle Jimmy," he said, curling one arm around the front of her neck, pulling her closer into him. He nibbled her earlobe, whispering into her ear how beautiful she is.

Catherine melted against him, finding the warmth his body radiated to be comforting. She bit her lip, feeling her cheeks burn hotter with every word he spoke.

His free hand worked the button and fly of her jeans. When they were open, he slipped his fingers beneath the waistband of her underwear.

"Goddamn you're soaked," he teased, lazily circling her swollen clit.

Catherine tried to speak, but the words got lost somewhere between her brain and mouth. Curling her fingers around his forearm, Catherine caught Dessie's gaze in the mirror.

Her eyes were heavy with desire and her lips parted just enough to show her clenched teeth. The sight filled Dessie with an innate urge to ravage her body.

"What do ya want?"

"I want - I want you to make me come on your fingers."

His heart fluttered hearing such a vulgar answer spill from her sweet mouth. He kissed her cheek, his eyes never once leaving hers. There was something about Catherine that made Dessie want to take his time. Draw her pleasure out for as long as possible.

Without warning, he slipped the tip of his middle finger inside of her. She clenched around him.

"I love feelin' you squeeze your pussy around me," he purred. "And I've missed havin' you grind that little clit against me."

Catherine swore she blacked out for a split second. She never had a man speak to her like that before, and she wouldn't deny it turned her on even more. The evidence of her spiked arousal slickened his fingers.

Twisting her neck so she could get a taste of his honey tongue, Dessie stopped her. He eased his finger from her, then pressed firmly against her clit. It filled him with satisfaction to feel her wither in his arms.

"If you want me to make you come, baby, there's somethin' I need from you." He kissed her temple, then pointed to the mirror. "I want you to look at me and ask permission to come; I wanna hear you beg for it."

She had been dominated in bed before but never dominated.

Never like this.

Staring into his dark lustful eyes, Catherine froze and Dessie didn't expect that.

He rested his cheek against her, his expression softened as he worried he pushed her out of her comfort zone. Having been with a man like Jimmy, he assumed things never remained vanilla. And while Dessie was on the right track, it wasn't words which Jimmy spiced up.

The last thing he wanted to do was scare her away. He was tender with her the first night they were together, so Dessie wanted to show her he could be domineering, too. Turns out she wasn't that kind of girl and he felt like a fool.

He decided to quit while he still had an ounce of dignity left. He started to pull his hand out from her panties.

"I'm sorry, Catherine."

"Don't stop," she blurted, grabbing his wrist.

Being pushed passed her limits was exactly what she needed. The last time she remembered feeling so liberated was with Happy in the grimy bathroom of a pub in Lodi.

She had been so guarded the first time she slept with Dessie, Catherine owed it to herself to breakdown those walls.

He desired her in ways Jimmy and Ian never would. He could leave her feeling free as Darragh and Happy did.

She already made the mistake of allowing one decent man to slip from her fingers, she wasn't about to do it again.

"Please let me come, Dessie." She began to grind her ass against his cock and kiss his inked forearm. "Please let me come for you. I wanna come so badly."

He swore in Irish, wasting no time running his fingers along her slit soaking them before sliding in. Pumping his middle and ring fingers, he glided his thick thumb along her clit.

Her delicate, strangled moans were the sweetest thing he's ever heard. She dug her nails into his arm as she squirmed, his fingers once never relenting on their assault.

It wasn't the work of his skilled fingers that pushed Catherine to the edge so fast. It was the eye contact. The way he looked at her with such hunger, yet a hint of affection stoked a fire she forgot was even burning.

This wasn't just a raw shameless romp. There was still intimacy and a connection no matter how filthy he spoke to her.

"You like it when I'm two knuckles deep, don't ya?"

"Aye...oh, God, Dessie...fuck."

She couldn't even forge a coherent thought.

"But ya like it better when I play with your pretty clit, huh?"

Dessie focused his attention on the spot that made her head drop back on his chest. He flicked, swirled, rubbed. The blotchy red spots forming on her neck and face told him she was close.

"Can I come?" she asked, her voice was hoarse and thick with the need for release.

The fact she even obliged him and asked, made Dessie harder than he already was. He wasn't cruel enough to make her wait any longer. "You can come for me, baby. I wanna feel ya gush all over my fingers."

Not even a minute later, Catherine reached up and gripped Dessie's shaggy hair. Her nails raked his scalp as her muscles locked up. He had to cover her mouth to muffle the cries spilling from her lips.

At this point, it was Patrick who Dessie feared more finding them in such a compromising position.

As she relaxed in his arms, he slowly pulled his hand from her underwear.

Spinning around, Catherine dropped to her knees. She freed the leather strap of his belt then unsnapped the button.

His fingers slid through her silky hair. "What do you think you're doin' down there?"

Pulling down the zipper, Catherine licked her lips. "Fair is fair, I suppose."

Already erect, his length filled her hand. With a feather-light touch, she ran her fingers along the satin skin, teasing and admiring. Opening her mouth, Catherine flicked her tongue over the head, sliding it along the underside, then took him fully.

Dessie's woven fingers tightened the grip in her hair. He bit his lip and gurgled a low moan, which turned into a strident hiss as she swirled her tongue. Her movements were deliberately slow just as his were. Her head began to swim thanks to the wanton mewl when she swiveled her hand along his diamond-hard shaft.

He grabbed the towel bar, his head smacking against the wall when he felt the back of Catherine's throat.

Sliding him out of her mouth and tracing the head of his cock along her lips, she tasted the salty trail he left behind. The eye contact, accompanied by her taking him deep once more, caused his hips to jolt with a smoldering need. When she reached up cupping his tightened balls, that was Dessie's undoing.

He bellowed, shooting his load right down her throat.

Before she had the chance to unwrap her lips from around his cock and swallow, the bathroom door swung open.

Jimmy swore he felt his soul physically leave his body at the sight of Catherine - his Catherine - on her knees with another man's dick in her mouth. She sat back on her ankles and he watched her throat undulate as she gulped down what was unquestionably a mouthful of cum.

With the back of her hand, she wiped away the saliva and Dessie scrambled to pull up his jeans.

She could not believe this happened again.

"The uh...the guy," Jimmy took a deep breath, trying to calm himself and collect his thoughts. "Doc's here, so get downstairs."

Without another word, he closed the door, leaving Catherine and Dessie shell shocked.

"It could've been worse," Dessie said, helping her to her feet. "You da could've been the one who walked in."

"This is karma, ya know that yeah?

"How?"

"From when youse walked in on Darragh plowin' me on the kitchen table."

"Oh, yeah!" Dessie laughed refastening his belt. "When I was in prison I saw my fair share of pale Irish arses, but by God did that boy have the whitest ass of us all. And since I've Irish arses on the mind," He playfully bent Catherine over the counter and pulled down her jeans to reveal the small black heart tattoo on her right cheek, "that is one sexy piece of ink."