Elle
I was busy being disappointed that Ciaran didn’t seem all that interested in the beautiful dress his mother had given me when I heard the knock coming from downstairs. The look on Ciaran’s face told me he’d likely heard it to. I opened my mouth to ask if this was something normal or something to be worried about when he put a finger to his lips. Silence.
Panic washed through me all over again.
Was it the man from the shop? The one who was shooting at us? God, he tried to kill us! And if the look on Ciaran’s face had been any indication, he wasn’t just going to give up either. I waited with baited breath as we both listened for any other sounds coming from downstairs. Quietly, Ciaran walked over to me, deliberately stepping across the floor like he knew where all of the squeaky floorboards were. Which he probably did.
When he got to me, he put his hands on my upper arms, offering me a squeeze of comfort. I smiled a little shakily at him, but did feel better for the gesture.
There were voices coming from downstairs. One was definitely Ma’s, but the other I couldn’t recognize. It was a man’s voice, though. It was impossible to hear exactly what they were saying from here, which seemed to frustrate Ciaran. He motioned for me to be quiet and follow him. I did so as carefully as possible.
He went to the door. Thankfully I hadn’t closed it behind me once I entered the room, so we didn’t have to worry about what sounds it might make pushing it open. I winced a little when the hinges creaked as he moved it a little wider for us to slip out. We both paused, but it didn’t seem like anyone downstairs had heard us. We started moving again.
Ciaran moved down the hallway, staying low to the ground as he crept towards the staircase leading below. I followed him, praying I didn’t catch the one floorboard that was going to give us away. We made it to the top of the stairs, but because the stairs were behind the bar, we didn’t have a view of the door. Which was good in some respect, because it meant whoever was at the door couldn’t see us either.
Painfully slow, we crept down the stairs. Every so often there would be a sound and Ciaran would freeze. I would nearly tumble into him, but catch myself just in time. Then we’d take another two steps.
Finally, we made it to the first floor, coming up right behind the bar. Remaining crouched low, we shuffled behind the bar, using it as cover as we rounded the corner where we’d be able to see whoever it was if we straightened up. I had thought that was the point, to see who was there, but I noticed Ciaran didn’t even try to look over the counter. Instead, he went for something beneath the counter.
My eyes widened when I realized it was a large shotgun.
Carefully he picked it up. I realized that from here we could hear the conversation between Ma and our visitor.
“Shouldn’t be here, boys,” she told whoever it was sternly. Boys. Must be at least two of them, then, I thought, but remained silent. “This is Skulls territory.”
I frowned. Skulls? What was she talking about? I glanced questioningly at Ciaran, but he wasn’t looking at me. Instead, he was checking for something else beneath the shelves. He pulled out a box of shells.
I continued to listen to the conversation.
“Not for long,” a man answered her with a sneer.
“Easy, Mick,” said a second voice. “Look, Ma—”
“That’s Mrs. Sullivan to the likes of you,” she said coolly.
“Mrs. Sullivan,” the man corrected. “You don’t need to be like this. We’re just as Irish as the Skulls, you know that. Hell, it’s your own boy who—”
“You listen here, you thugs,” said Ma in a voice that was feminine but oozed danger and reproach. I could imagine her jabbing her finger into their chests, eyes narrowed and body squared off as though ready to fight. She was that tough. “Shane decided he didn’t want to be my boy the moment he went against his brother! That makes him and you both no blood of mine!”
There was a long pause and I could feel the tension filling the silence. Finally, the second man said, “Where are they, Ma?”
“I told you, it’s Mrs. Shane to you boys.”
“Don’t be difficult, old lady,” said the first man, Mick. “We don’t wanna have to rough you up.”
She laughed. Despite the threat in their words and voices, the old woman didn’t seem in the least bit afraid. She was made of stouter stuff than I was, that was for sure. I got Ciaran’s attention and pointed towards his mother. He had paled, but nodded. Carefully, he opened the barrel of the shotgun and starting sliding in the shells.
But the conversation didn’t stop. “I’ve earned the right to be as difficult as I want. Any of you boys live that long, you’ll earn it, too.”
“Let’s go. He ain’t here, and she’s too damn batty to know anything anyway,” said Mick, clearly not happy to have been laughed at.
But the other man didn’t seem as sure. There was a long pause, then, “You sure Ciaran ain’t here? With a pretty little brunette? Real looker.”
I felt my body stiffen. Me. They were looking for me, too. But why? Why were these men looking for either of us? What was this about Irish and Skulls and territory? And who the hell was this Shane guy?
“I haven’t seen no one,” Ma answered firmly. “As you can see, the bar has been closed for more than a few years. I’m not in the business of opening for anyone. No exceptions.”
The man’s voice lowered until I couldn’t make out what he was saying. I was straining to hear, trying to make it out. That was when two things happened. Ciaran snapped the shotgun back into place, fully loaded, and a shot rang out in the entire room. My eyes widened and I hopped up until I was standing at the bar, looking at the scene at the same time that Ciaran jerked himself up and aimed the shotgun.
I might have tried to stop him from shooting if I didn’t see the old lady lying on the floor, dead, blood pooling around her.
Another shot rang out and this time it was from right next to me. I looked over at Ciaran, wild-eyed and panicked. He was yelling something, but I couldn’t hear any of it. The shots had temporarily deafened me until all I could hear was that ringing sound in my ears. The rest of the world might as well have been silent.
But I could see what was happening.
Ciaran had pulled the trigger and shot the man who held the gun. I didn’t know which of the two he was. But it wasn’t a shot to the head or chest or whatever. Instead, he jerked back in surprise, clutching at his shoulder. The second guy pulled out another gun and pointed it towards us. More specifically, towards me.
I thought I screamed, but couldn’t be sure. I was staring at that gun when Ciaran threw his weight against me, tackling me to the ground. More shots rang out, shattering glass behind us and pouring down liquor from the bar. Ciaran said something to me, but my ears still weren’t processing what he was saying.
Finally, frustrated, he grabbed my arm and jerked me forward, making me move away from the men with guns. We didn’t go back up the stairs, but instead headed out from the bar towards a door I hadn’t noticed before. An old exit sign was above it, but it was faded and unlit.
Another shot came out way. We ducked behind a wall, but the shot went through the wall. It just barely missed Ciaran.
He shoved me through the door harshly. I lost my footing and fell into the snow right outside the door. He followed me a second later, once again gripping my arm and jerking me to my feet. We ran like death itself was after us—and that wasn’t very far from the truth.
I thought we were going to be stuck on the streets again, running and hiding, but Ciaran surprised me by shoving me into the cab of a beat up old truck. I was about to ask if he could hotwire it or something, but he didn’t have to.
He had the keys.
To my surprise, the truck roared to life and we spun out of there just as the two men were bursting through the door where we’d just exited.
They shot after us, but it was pointless. Their aim was terrible and we were moving quickly out of their line of sight. I’d never been so terrified and so grateful in my entire life. Somehow, we’d made it out alive.
But Mrs. Sullivan hadn’t.