A/N: This story is back. We are sorry for the delay in posting, but we hope you find this chapter makes up for the long wait after leaving you with that evil cliff hanger.
We would also like to thank you all for the reviews for our Reconnecting Halloween Tale on the M rated page we appreciated all your comments.
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BE BRAVE LITTLE ANGEL.
Chapter Fifteen
The sharp crack of a high powered rifle echoing through the forest brought Liam Glenanne's tracker to her feet, her head turning one way and then the other as she tried to pin point where the sound had come from.
"Which way?" her employer demanded. Even in the dim half-light of dusk, Robin could see the fear in his pale blue eyes.
Biting down on her bottom lip, the dark haired gypsy narrowed her eyes as her mind rapidly analysed the situation. But not fast enough for the older man at her side. All of a sudden he was in front of her, his hands painfully gripping her shoulders.
"Which way, damn ya? Tis me sister out thar!"
"Git off me!" The tracker struck out with her fists and elbows in an effort to break free, but to no avail as the furious man before her ignored her struggles. "I get it. Yer worried fer yar sister, but I cannae think while yer breakin' me bloody shoulders."
Staggering backwards when he finally released her, she pointed with a trembling hand towards the direction they had been travelling. "It came fram over thar, but - hey, hold yar horses, ya daft man. Yer nae thinking!" She chased after him as Liam took off, grabbing at his arm to stop his mad dash. "Will ya stop an' listen ta me fer two feckin' minutes?"
"Whot?" The older man turned on her glaring, his mouth twisted in a snarl.
"Jus' listen, thar wa' only one shot... Thar's two o' tham right?"
She watched with some relief as the tightly wound man before her relaxed just a fraction. "And…?"
"An' if tha fella chasin' after tham had fired thot shot, would nae thar be more shootin'…? I mean both yar sister an' har man woulda fired back, would they nae?"
"Yer right," the head of the clan agreed, his expression softening a little. "But I still want ta know whose doin' tha shootin'." He began to move again, only to be brought to a halt again by the slender hand on his arm.
"Jaysus, have ya nae heard o' goin' slow ta get thar faster? Tracking is nae jus' about followin' prints in tha ground or lookin' fer broken branches... It's about getting' inta tha head o' tha thing yer huntin'. D'ya think I wa' jus' askin' all tham questions ta be nosy?"
"Yer getting ta a point, I can feel it."
"Aye, thot I am... Thot shot coulda been some poacher huntin' outta season." She raised a hand to stop any argument her intense employer was about to make. "But, I admit tis more likely ta be sommit ta do wit' tha three people ahead o' us we know are armed."
"Robin, if ya donnae -"
"Am getting' thar... Tha tracks we've been followin' have been tellin' us a tale. Tha boyfriend tis injured, he's favoring his left side an' yar sister… she's been draggin' har feet. She's tired, well, more like exhausted. They need ta rest up, am I right?"
Liam nodded slowly, thinking back to the last time he had seen the American spy in that tiny derelict cottage. "Last time I saw Mc—Westen, he looked like he'd been through tha mill, and Fiona dinnae look like she'd hadda decent sleep in days," he admitted grimly, reminded that the last time he had faced Michael Westen, it had been over the barrel of the younger man's smoking gun.
"Okay then, I think I know whar ta find tham... Tis a guess, mind ya, but thar tis a clearin' about a mile yonder an' if I wa' wantin' ta rest up it would be a good place ta stop."
"Fine," the IRA's premier interrogator growled as he unslung his AR-15 from where he had been carrying it across his back. "Get us ta thot clearin' as fast as ya can."
"Jus' try an' keep up wit' me." Robin took off at a run, dodging around the trees, ducking low branches and easily leaping over the various debris that littered the forest floor, while the older man did his best to keep up.
It wasn't long though until they had no choice but to slow down as the twilight faded to dusk and running was no longer an option if they wanted to stand any chance of staying on their feet.
Using a flashlight with a narrow band of light, which she kept pointed directly at the uneven ground, they continued onwards. Gripping his assault rifle tightly, Liam followed in the girl's wake trying his best to step as lightly as she did over the irregular terrain.
"Can ya nae move a bit faster?" the impatient man hissed at his guide.
"D'ya want ta get thar without fallin' on yar arse?" came the coarse question. "Nar let me get on wit' me job."
This was Liam Glenanne's worst nightmare… Ever since he had taken over as head of the family, he had done his best to protect those under his wing. He'd spent the first six months after his older brother's murder solidifying his position in the Provisional IRA, proving to the Executive Council that he had skills they needed to strike fear into not only the enemy, but also into those in their ranks who might think to change sides.
To keep his family safe and secure, he had gone from medical student to interrogator in the blink of an eye, hunting down those who had given information to the British in return for a new life by whatever means necessary. He had ensured that his reputation was such that anybody with an ounce of sense would stay away from those he loved and cared for.
But that hard earned reputation had failed to protect his sisters twice before... At Fiona's twenty first birthday party, she had stepped outside with her young man for some privacy, only to fall prey to a young Unionist looking to make a name for himself. Her sweetheart had been rushed to hospital with a tale of being found on the street, a victim of a brutal mugging, while Fiona had been tended to by their mother and Aunt Claire while she had had to come to terms with the vicious assault perpetrated on her body.
He'd sworn then that nobody would ever harm a Glenanne again. His vengeance on the rapist had left the young man alive, but helpless and in agony for what remained of his life. But the fear he instilled at the mere mention of his name hadn't stopped the second failure during his reign. They had lost Claire because the girl had run off after an argument with her older sister and fallen prey to a young inexperienced British soldier who had opened fire on a rowdy crowd.
He could not lose another sister. Liam tried to shove his fears to the back of his mind, but they refused to be quelled. When Claire had been taken, he'd had a family to manage. Both Sean and Fiona had been out for blood. The two youngest members of the family would have torn Belfast apart if he hadn't crushed their rebellion. But out here in the wilderness he had nothing else to occupy his thoughts and his own fears and anger were threatening to spill over.
"Look!" Robin suddenly came to a stop, holding her arm out to stop her employer from stumbling straight into the scene ahead of them.
Once she had the older man's attention, she moved the beam of the flashlight slowly along the ground until it illuminated the toe of a boot.
"I think we've found whar thot shot went."
Flicking the safety off his weapon, Liam stepped past the young woman. "Wait here while I take a look."
"I'll come wit' ya... Jus don't muck up tha tracks if ya want ta know whot went on har."
()()()()()
An hour earlier
Moving silently, Fiona approached the shelter where her beloved had been sleeping most of the day. She had promised to wake the father of her child after she had finished eating her breakfast. But instead, the petite Irishwoman had first of all given him an extra hour and then when she had seen how soundly he was sleeping, she had made the decision to let him rest for as long as he needed.
After the adrenaline rush of an operation comes a crash. Heightened reflexes and awareness don't last. Two days of arduous hiking through the wilderness and even the sharpest killing machine has to let down her guard.
It wasn't just for his benefit that Fiona had chosen to ignore his request. Just the thought of another day traipsing through a damp and dreary forest with a heavy backpack made her shoulders and back ache. She hated to admit it, but she was exhausted. Damned pregnancy hormones…
What she hadn't expected was for Michael to sleep for so long. Eight hours had passed and still the love of her life had remained motionless. Sucking in a breath, the tiny ex-terrorist placed her Hecate II rifle on the ground close by before kneeling down beside her slumbering lover and gently running her fingers through his messy raven hair.
Instantly, his eyes snapped open and a hand shot out from under the covers to grip her wrist.
"Fi…" he groaned as he released his hold so he could rub the sleep from his eyes. "What time is it?"
"Late," she admitted with just a trace of guilt in her voice. "I thought it would be good fer us both ta have a day off – ya said it yarself this place is ideal fer a hideaway."
The former spy went to sit up, but then he grimaced and fell back with a heavy sigh.
"Thot's yar body's way o' sayin' ya need ta take things easy." The petite red head couldn't resist smirking as her lover glared back at her.
"It's my body's way of saying I've spent too long resting and now my muscles have seized up," he contradicted her statement as he stretched out slowly in an effort to ease the stiffness in his limbs.
"If I'd known ya wa' goin' ta be so ungrateful, I woulda woken ya up earlier an' I wouldnae have made tha effort ta have a fine hot meal waitin' fer ya."
Fiona chuckled and cupped his cheek gently in the palm of her hand.
"Tis done now an' nobody has died... Take yar time gettin' up while I give our meal a stir."
Leaning forward, she pressed a kiss to his forehead and got to her feet. "I've gone through whot ya put in tha back packs an' I've found an old T-shirt... Whot d'ya say ta once yer up an' about, ya can put it on and we wrap ya in duct tape ta give yar ribs a wee bit o' support?
Lying flat on his back, Michael offered a half smile and a nod of agreement. "I shoulda thought of that myself… Thanks, Fi."
"It's always a pleasure ta patch ya up, Michael." With her parting comment, the young woman left her beloved to get up while she walked over to where she had made a second fire pit within easy reach of the mountain stream.
Sitting down on a rock, the Irishwoman gave the food simmering in the metal pan which served as both saucepan and plate a stir. Cooking had never been Fiona's forte, despite her Mammy's best efforts to teach her. Baking had always been about mixing explosives with her father in his basement workshop rather than mixing cake batter with her mother in the family kitchen…
But a can of beef stew mixed with the herbs and mushrooms Michael had found the day before hadn't been a challenge to her culinary skills and besides preparing a meal had been a welcome break after spending most of her time with nothing to do but watch the local wildlife through the scope of her sniper rifle.
Unzipping and then pulling back the sleeping bag, the stiff former spy eased his sore legs out until they were laying on top of the padded nylon cover and slowly began to flex one leg and then the other, breathing steadily through the pain caused by his bruised and battered limbs complaining at being made to move.
He should have never remained immobile for so long… Closing his eyes for a moment, Michael prepared himself for getting up off the ground and the agony the movement was going to cause to his abused abdominals and busted rib.
Wrapping one arm about his waist, he used the pressure to support his stomach and ribs while he used his free arm to push against his pallet and help him onto his protesting knees. Panting through the pain shooting though his whole body, the ex-operative paused to catch his breath.
"Whot's takin' ya so long, Michael?" Fiona turned to look his direction, her blue-green sparkling mischievously even in the twilight. "D'ya need me ta hold yar hand?"
A movement across the other side of the narrow mountain stream caught Michael's eye, just a faint disturbance amongst the leaves covering a large bush. Probably nothing, he told himself, probably just those same deer he had seen the previous evening on their way to drink from the stream.
Reaching out, he wrapped his fingers about the barrel of Fiona' sniper rifle and dragged it over to his position. But it wouldn't hurt to be sure…
Another movement and the one-time Army sniper extraordinaire dropped flat on to his belly, swallowing back the nausea that threatened to spill out as his busted rib was pushed against his lung.
However, that didn't matter because across the stream lurking in a large bush he was positive he had just spotted the end of rifle pointing across the clearing straight at the mother of his unborn child.
Ignoring everything except the threat to his girlfriend, Michael maneuvered the Hecate II into position, his eye staring through the telescopic sight searching for a target.
"Michael-?" He heard his lover's voice but didn't dare risk stopping his hunt for the elusive sniper. "Michael, whot ar' ya –?"
There! He had him and just in time before Fiona could give the game away completely.
The muzzle of a high powered rifle just poking slightly out of the bush and that was all he needed to take his shot. The man who had been the top marksman in his class back at Fort Benning, Georgia, followed the length of the barrel to where he knew the shooter was positioned and fired.
"Fi, get down!" As soon as he fired the shot, the ex-Ranger shouted an unnecessary warning to his beloved, as the guerrilla trained fighter had dropped down as soon as she had seen Michael taking aim with her rifle.
"Michael?" The red head hissed from her position on the ground with a gun in her hand and her body pressed up flat against the exposed roots of a large tree.
"There's a sniper out there, stay put!" he answered as he belly crawled backwards, ignoring his ribs protests about being dragged along the rough uneven terrain.
"I'll cover you." He could only see the outline of her features in the growing darkness, but he knew how Fiona reacted to danger and could imagine the smile of anticipation gracing her lips.
"NO! Stay put! I mean it, Fi!" He was on his hands and knees, now preparing to sprint to the next piece of cover.
"Mi-"
"No!" He cut her off sharply. He couldn't wait any longer. If he had missed his target or only wounded the sniper, their attacker could be moving to set up in another spot. "Please, Fi," he pleaded, hoping the desperation in his voice would keep her behind cover. "Let me do this my way."
And then he was gone, zigzagging as he ran as fast as he could to the next piece of cover.
Once in the tree line, Michael moved swiftly through the trees trying to be as quiet as possible, though it was hard as every breath he took felt like he was being stabbed in the chest.
It took him less than ten minutes to find the spot where an unmoving figure lay semi-concealed by a large elder bush and another few minutes to satisfy himself that the shooter was alone. Only when he was sure there was nobody else waiting to ambush him the moment he stepped out of his cover did the dark haired man emerge cautiously from his concealment.
The sniper was a flat on the ground, his weapon lying in front of him, his motionless hands still cradling the long gun. Kicking the man's leg with the toe of his boot, Michael remained alert for any sign of life. Getting no response, the ex-agent took a risk and placed his own gun on the ground. Grasping hold of the assassin's ankles, he pulled the body completely into the open.
There was a large hole where the sniper's jaw had been and, on the other side, most of the man's ruined face missing. Biting down on his lip, Michael turned his gaze to the deceased's clothes. Dropping down beside him, he quickly began to rifle through his pockets searching for any evidence of who he was.
As he searched, the former spy scavenged everything he thought would be useful, the small amount of cash he found, ammunition, the stranger's handgun, a hunting knife and a Tikka T3 Lite hunting rifle. Looking around, Michael knew somewhere close by the sniper had to have hidden his bag of supplies. But before he could search the nearby bushes for the pack, he caught the sound of footsteps coming closer.
Instantly, he retreated back into the trees. His first instinct had been to run back to his pregnant girlfriend to make sure she was safe and to protect her from this new danger. But before he could make a fool of himself, the Tom Card's training overruled his heart and he waited out of sight to assess the rest of their pursuers.
A narrow beam of light skimmed over the ground of the clearing, ending on the booted foot of the dead man. "Look...! I think we've found whar thot shot went." The voice belonged to a woman
"Wait here while I take a look."
Those few words spoken by Liam Glenanne were enough to make Michael's blood run cold; however, he held his ground while his spy instincts remained in charge. Forewarned was forearmed, the more he knew about who was chasing them the better he could plan how to escape and evade.
"I'll come wit' ya... Jus' don't muck up tha tracks if ya want ta know whot went on har."
Who was that woman? Michael wished he could risk taking a look at the mystery female leading the infamous PIRA operative through the forest. But it was already taking all his willpower to stay and eavesdrop when his heart urged him to run back to Fiona and then keep running.
"Jayzuz, look whot they did ta his face... D'ya think he suffered?"
"I doubt he knew whot hit him... But tis not him Am interested in. How far away is thot clearing ya wa' telling me about?"
"Just across tha' way... Thar's a little stream ta cross an' ya would be thar."
Michael closed his eyes just for a second. Liam had gotten himself a tracker, somebody who knew the area and could read sign. This was about as bad as it could get.
Without conscious thought, his hand strayed to the deceased sniper's hunting knife. The woman was a threat, counselled the predator which resided deep in the soul of the former spy. Wait until they move apart and use the darkness to deal with her... You would be gone before Glenanne realized what had happened and, without the woman's skills, he would have to turn around.
Michael swallowed thickly. Five years ago he would have carried out the attack without a second thought. The young woman would be nursing a crippling injury or possibly lying dead on the dirt and he would have been on his way completely unconcerned by the callous attack.
"You do whatever you have to complete the mission, Kid. It's all about making sure that at the end of the day you're the one still breathing."
Just hearing his old mentor and one time friend's words echoing inside his head was enough to make Michael snatch his hand away from the bone handled weapon. He wasn't that man, not anymore, and he had made himself a solemn promise after what had happened in Vedeno high up in the Slovenian mountains. He would never let that particular monster out of its cage again.
"Someone else has been up har. I'd say it wa' tha boyfriend looking at tha size o' tha prints."
"Stay close, girl, he could still be around... Westen, if yer listening this is why ya should let me sister come home...Yer only gonna get har killed if she stays wit' ya."
It was becoming too dangerous to stay where he was. Michael slowly backed away, keeping low and stepping carefully to leave as little evidence of his passing as possible on his way back across the stream to where his lover hopefully still waited for him.
()()()()()
"FIONA! Fi, if yar out thar, we need ta talk…."
The voice came out of nowhere, carried on the light wind which blew through the forest. Fiona ducked down next to their makeshift shelter as her oldest brother called out to from across the clearing. The sound of his voice, so sudden and so near, sent a wave of fear through the redhead.
"Ya cannae carrying on like this... We all want is ya home, safe an' sound wit' yar family..."
She bit down on her bottom lip so hard she drew blood... How had he found them so quickly? Liam had never been one to hike in the woods not even in his youth. She could remember Patrick teasing his younger brother about all the time he spent with his head stuck in a book.
"Sean's still got his arm if ya wa' concerned... His wit' our mother... She misses ya, Fi."
The moisture building in the young woman's eyes threatened to overflow and she scrubbed at eyes, Was it one of her own kin who had been lining up a shot as she had been cooking a meal?
"Please, Fi, if nothin' else jus' let us know ya alright… so I can set our mam's mind at rest."
This was too much. How dare he try to manipulate her with talk of their mother? Fiona unclenched her jaw and was half way to her feet when a strong hand encircled her waist and a hand clamped over her mouth.
"No, Fi… Fiona, ow!" Michael's voice sounded in her ear, his hiss of pain as she reacted with an elbow to his ribs causing him to release her from his grip.
"Michael…" she whispered and fell into his arms, utterly relieved to have him safely by her side again. "It's Liam... The sniper…?"
"He wasn't with the shooter." He cupped her cheek in his palm, staring deeply into her eyes as he explained. "I got him, the sniper is dead. Liam turned up afterwards. He has somebody with him, a woman, she's some sort of tracker."
"Fiona, Am gonna come across, jus' ta talk, thot's all. Donnae shoot, Westen," the man in question interrupted from the other side of the stream.
"We have to go, Fi. We can't stay... Unless you want to go with him... if you want to g -?"
"Am not thot easy ta get rid off Michael Westen." She brushed away his attempt at being understanding. "When are ya gonna get it inta thot thick head o' yars Am exactly whar I wanta be?"
To make her point, she slipped her arms through the straps of the lightest of the two rucksacks and heaved it up onto her back. "We need ta leave now."
"You're sure?" he demanded in a low voice.
"Ar' ya sure...?" she countered quietly with an irritated huff. "If yer done tryin' ta send me off, then pick up yar pack and let's get movin' nar. Whoever he has wit' him cannae track in the dark."
Leaning in he pressed a soft peck to her lips before hurriedly pulling the heavier of the packs onto his back and leading the way out past the boulders and along the cliff wall following the nearby creek upstream.
Watching her lover move away, the young Irishwoman knelt down and brushed flat the dirt at her feet before quickly drawing a shape in the damp earth. Then, without a backward glance, she set off after her man.
()()()()()
"I told ya ta stay back," Liam growled at the young woman as she followed him across the narrow stream, easily skipping over the stones which littered the creek bed while he had marched straight through the ankle deep water.
"They've already gone," Robin replied, unmoved by the man's bad mood. "An' ya need me ta find tham an' I cannae do thot fram over thar."
Liam pursed his lips. The girl was impossible. He shook his head and the scowl fell from his sharp features. The problem was, she was far too much like his errant sister for his liking. "Whot ya mean is ya dinnae fancy being left wit' tha dead fella."
"Not at all," She answered airily. "Nar, d'ya want me ta do me job? Or would ya rather stand around an' chat?"
Definitely too much like Fiona...
"Just be careful, I wouldnae put it past Fi nor har fella leaving a few surprises around tha camp."
They had left the food to dry out and burn in the pan on top of a small fire close to the stream. Further away amongst several large boulders, Liam found the remnants of their camp, a second fire pit and the shell of a shelter.
It was as he was shining his flashlight into the shelter that he spotted some marks in the ground. Kneeling down he looked closer, just making out the shape of a harp.
"Tha wild harper…" He smiled sadly at the image, remembering the tattoo on his sister's foot and the row it had caused when the fourteen year old girl had proudly shown off the tribute to her murdered brother that she'd had inked onto her body.
Their mother had been furious, grounding the teenager for weeks. But Fiona being as stubborn then as she was now had steadfastly stuck to her principals and refused to apologize for her actions.
Squatting down, Liam used the flat of his hand to wipe away the simple drawing before trying to locate the gypsy girl who was off searching for any trail his sister and her boyfriend might have left behind.
"Robin, whar ar' ya?"
"Thar still travelling ta tha west. Thar followin' tha cliff face round, tis mostly rocky ground so it's not goin' ta be so easy ta follow in tha dark," she answered as she joined him by the shelter.
"Never mind thot. Wa're gonna clean away any sign thot Fi wa' har... Thot dead fella is gonna have people out lookin' fer him. Let's not give 'em any ideas on whar ta look fer tha culprits an' after thot, we'll see if we can track 'em down."
()()()()()
An hour had past and Michael and Fiona were back deep in the forest. Having found no safe way up onto the mountain, they had turned downhill and back into the safety of the trees. Fiona could see from the way he was walking that Michael was suffering from the effects of taking on the sniper. Even though he was trying to hide it from her by staying several steps ahead of her, she could hear the hitch in his breath and see the way he was keeping one arm pressed tightly into his side.
"Michael, Michael, stop." She ran the couple of steps necessary to catch hold of his free arm. "We cannae keep this up. At least let me strap yar ribs." She laid the flat of her other hand over his heart.
"We don't have time, Fi." He gathered up her hand in his and gave it a quick squeeze before he started to move off again, but the Irishwoman dug her heels in.
"An' jus' how far will we get when every breath is killin' ya?" she demanded fiercely.
Sucking in his bottom lip, the former spy let his chin drop to his chest.
"We can't stop here," he answered softly, but then looked up narrowing his eyes in an effort to pierce the darkness of the untamed forest ahead of them. "But if we go a little further into the trees, I think I can rig something up to slow them down."
"Slow them down?" she echoed suspiciously, still blocking his path. "An' how ar' ya plannin' ta do thot? Will ya be harmin' them?"
"Nothing serious," he clarified in a rush. "Just enough to make them back off. It would force them to wait for daylight to come after us," the ex-Ranger explained. "Give us some time to getaway clean."
"Nothin' serious then, ya promise?" And when he nodded his agreement, the redhead continued. "Fine, if thot's all ya have planned. I trust ya Michael. But how d'ya intend ta injure one of them in yar condition?"
He flashed Fiona a confident smile and gave her arm a tug as he set off even deeper into the trees. "Come with me and I'll show you."
()()()()()
"We shoulda just taken off after tham instead o' stoppin' ta break up thar camp an' hide all our tracks. D'ya know how difficult it tis ta follow a trail in tha pitch dark?" Robin spoke over her shoulder as she used her flashlight to illuminate the forest floor searching for the minute signs which would tell her which route in between the dense trees and bushes the fugitive couple had taken.
"Stop arguing wit' me, girl," Liam replied, his patience running thin since he had it confirmed his sister and her boyfriend had managed to sneak away from him yet again. "Thot fella we left back thar has some powerful friends an' I have no intention o' getting' stuck in between them an' Westen... So, get on wit' yar job. Ya said it yarself, Westen is injured. They cannae be travelling thot fast. We'll catch up wit' tham soon enough... Thot tis if yer as good as ya say," he teased.
"Fine." The young woman turned her head to grin back at the older man. "But ya realize yar sister's fella could jus' decide ta wait in tha trees an' murder us both if he thinks war getting taa close."
"He's not tha sort ta do thot," Liam reluctantly admitted. "As long as we donnae corner tham, they'll try ta run."
"Thot's good ta know. Oh -" She paused and put an arm out to stop her employer from walking onto the tripwire she was sure she had just spotted.
"Whot is it?" he hissed, trying to follow what the girl was doing as her fingertips ghosted over what looked like a strand of tangled vine.
"English Ivy, tis all over tha place. A bloody nuisance, so tis, strangling tha life outta tha trees it grows on..." She paused as she glanced up at the older man. "So Am wonderin' why this little lot has been spun inta a cord and is crossing tha trail... Ya might wanta take a step back." As she spoke, she gave the twine-like vine a sharp tug and dropped flat, as with a loud THWACK! a branch sprung across the trail.
"See they pinned it back har…" Once they had recovered from the surprise, Robin finished her investigation of the trap. Pointing to another nearby tree, she explained the device to her employer. "An' when I pulled on thot trip wire, I triggered its release." She reached up for the branch and gave it a shake. "It could've really done some damage if they'd set tha height right."
Liam pursed his lips and stared into the darkness. Both Michael and Fiona were skilled guerrilla fighters. Neither one of them would have made such a basic error as to choose a branch too high up the tree to do any good. "Twas no mistake, tis a warning ta back off."
The girl got to her feet and faced the older man. "So, whot d'ya want ta do about it?"
Taking a deep breath, the head of the Glenanne clan let it out in a long sigh. He was torn between wanting to chase down the young couple who were causing him so much trouble and a genuine concern about what other devices the American spy might have set up further along the trail if they didn't back off.
Booby traps were part of the lethal arsenal of the paramilitaries which operated throughout Northern Ireland and in parts of the South. Car bombs, wired to the ignition switch or sometimes on trembler which would trigger the explosives as soon as someone sat down in the driver seat, were one of his sister's specialities. There were also roadside bombs, like the ones Fiona had used more effectively than she'd intended back at the cottage, as well as fire traps and many, many more ways the foot soldiers of the Cause went about killing the enemy.
"Wa're headin' back the way we came," Liam announced grimly.
He hated the idea of retreating, especially when he was so close to his goal. But he was smart enough to realize that out in the wilds Michael Westen had the edge. He remembered every word in the documents Colin had managed to collect from his hacking of the MI-6 computers regarding the American spy. The man was a skilled soldier and covert field operative. He had experienced combat all over the world. Mr. Glenanne had no doubt in his mind that the next booby trap they came across wouldn't be as benign as the first.
But sooner or later, he knew the couple would have to stick their heads back out into the open and he'd be waiting for them.
"Ya donnae have ta give up cuz o' me," Robin spoke up bravely.
"Tis nae cuz o' ya, girl... Tis because in tha dark sooner or later wa're gonna miss one o' thar little tricks an' I donnae fancy havin' ta carrying ya outta har any more than you'd fancy doin' tha same fer me."
"If yar sure then, we'll head back... Me daddy'll be pleased ta see me back an' tha money ya owe us o' course."
"Donnae let tha old feller take it all off ya. Ya've earned every penny o' it, girl," Liam answered as they turned back the way they had come. Reaching into his pocket, he brought out his mobile phone and then scowled when he saw there was no signal. "I wa' hopin' ta make some calls... Sorry, girl, but ya gonna have ta help me carry thot body we left back near tha clearing outta har."
"Whot d'ya want wit' a body?" she asked, wrinkling her nose in disgust.
"Never ya mind," he answered brusquely, his mind already on how glad he was to be a partner in a thriving funeral parlor, which gave him the perfect place to store a body until he could decide what to do with it. "We'll pick it up and I'll have ya back home by tha morning."
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The sea around the Bay of Biscay was quiet after a week of storms. All the fishing boats which had been confined to the safety of the various harbors dotted along the rugged coastline were out in force, the owners desperate to catch their quota. Among them was one boat that broke away from the others once they were out in the bay and begun to motor towards the Celtic Sea and the Emerald Isle beyond.
Up on deck, Thomas O'Neill leaned out over the side, letting the wind catch his tousled dark hair. He was going home, back to the country which held his heart, and this time he wouldn't be driven away as he had been before by an angry man with a hammer.
Five years ago, he had been ambushed by Liam Glenanne and after some unpleasantness ordered to leave Ireland on pain of a very long drawn out death if he ever showed his face in the country again.
His crime had been to offer help to Liam's little sister, the ever so delightful Fiona. The girl had wanted weapons to take on the soldiers who had murdered her baby sister. She hadn't cared about the consequences. She'd just wanted to spill British blood over the streets of Belfast and he'd been only too happy to help her with that. It was a bonus of course that he had fancied the girl ever since he had seen her after her return from swanning around the continent on the arm of her rich French boyfriend.
At the time, he had really thought they would get to raise hell together, an Irish Bonny and Clyde leaving British bodies in their wake. He smirked at the thought. Had he really been that naïve? Shaking his head, he made his way inside to the warmth of the helm. "How long till we make landfall?"
"Par de días y se le de vuelta a casa, Senor O'Neill," the captain of the little boat flashed his teeth in a happy smile.
"A coupla days, thot's grand, Eudardo, gracias."
Sitting down, he reached into his jacket for a pack of cigarettes and drew one out. Cupping his hands over the white stick of tobacco, he lit it before taking a deep drag. He'd thought he'd found a kindred spirit in Fiona Glenanne and perhaps he would have, had it not been for her brother's inference. He didn't know much about her new boyfriend other than the man had been the source of some serious trouble between the young woman and her family. Of course, the last he had heard, the man still had all his teeth.
His hand drifted subconsciously to rub his knuckles along his jawline as he took the fag from his lips with his other hand. He owed Liam Glenanne quite a debt that needed repaying.
How Fiona and her beau figured into the price would remain to be seen. But he was sure that he could think of something he would enjoy.
And with those happy thoughts swimming through his imagination Thomas O'Neill settled in for the long journey across the sea, planning all the ways that his revenge could be completed.