“We need to go.” Fallon barges into the room.

  “I’m not done packing.”

  “It doesn't matter.” She pulls on my arm. “Leave it. Leave it all. They’re coming.”

  “Shite.” I haul Aisling into my arms.

  “Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go.” Fallon rushes me while checking for a round in her chamber. The metal clinks just before she opens the door. “Ready?”

  “I need shoes.”

  “Should have moved faster.” She checks the hallway before giving me the all-clear sign. “We’ll go down the back stairs. I have a car waiting.”

  “Always prepared.” I grab my sneakers off the floor, securing Aisling against me with one arm.

  “It’s what keeps me alive. You should try it sometime.” We creep down the hallway as quickly as possible.

  “I’m feeling a little exposed. I don’t have any fire power.”

  “Again, always be prepared,” Fallon reiterates annoyingly.

  “Stuff it, copperhead killer.”

  She does a quick glance over her shoulder. I don't think she’s a fan of the nickname.

  Just then, the elevator doors ding open. Time seems to slow as we both look back and see three men exit. Shit is about to hit the fan.

  “Get down!” Fallon yells, firing first.

  I hit the ground and scurry the last few feet to the stairwell, shielding Aisling with my body. Bullets fly across the corridor as I crawl through the doorway, my heart beating faster than the automatic weapons.

  “Go! Go!” She nearly pushes me down the stairs right after firing off two last shots into the hallway.

  We book it down two flights of stairs before she pulls me through the sixth-floor doorway.

  “Keep her quiet.” She quickly closes the door and peeks out the small glass window.

  “Easier said than done.” I cover Aisling's mouth and shush her. It’s not working.

  “Shh!” Fallon hisses at me as she monitors the stairwell. I smother Aisling’s little face against my chest, and her crying becomes muffled. Daddy is so sorry, baby.

  Only a moment later, Fallon bursts through the door, taking the men by surprise. She picks them off one, two, three. They never saw it coming.

  I release Aisling from my chest, and she wails. Fallon cringes.

  “We need to go, now.” She drags me over the three dead bodies.

  I balloon with a twisted sense of pride. Man, she really is a fucking copperhead killer.

  We make it out to the car with Aisling screaming the whole damn time.

  “Get in the back and get down.” Fallon jumps into the driver’s seat, and I smush my huge body into the back of the fucking Volkswagen.

  As I cradle Aisling in my arms, Fallon peels out, and I breathe one big-ass sigh of relief.

  “Fucker,” I complain.

  “What?” Fallon looks back at me. “Are you hit?”

  “No . . . I dropped my fucking shoes.”

  Her gaze narrows. “Idiot.”

  “I remember you being nicer.”

  “Yeah, well, that was before you pissed me off.”

  I smile at Aisling knowingly, who is finally starting to calm down. “I think the copperhead killer still has feelings for me,” I whisper sweetly.

  Aisling responds with a toothy little grin. I hug her in my arms, my heart fuller than it ever has been.

  “She definitely does not,” Fallon sets the record straight.

  I have my doubts.

  “Can I sit up yet?” I ask, my back aching.

  “No, we’re not out of the city yet.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “West. March plugged in GPS coordinates to an area outside of Albany where we should be safe for a little while.”

  “Who’s March? Your new boyfriend?”

  “No, he’s the guy who’s going to keep us alive. So you better shut up about him.”

  “Just inquiring, love.”

  “Don’t call me love.”

  I roll my eyes. “You going to be so touchy the whole damn time?”

  “Yes.”

  Well, at least she’s honest.

  “Fine.” It is what it is. We don’t need to be best friends; we just need to do a job and then go our separate ways. I’ll just need to restrain myself from trying to fuck her in the process. What can I say? She’s a hard woman to get over. “Ouch.” Aisling pokes me in the eye. “What was that for, ya little bugger?”

  She laughs hysterically. “Fucker,”

  My jaw drops, and Fallon laughs. “Don’t say that.” I cover her mouth.

  “She definitely knows who her daddy is,” Fallon snickers.

  “Be quiet up there, or I'll cover your mouth, too.”

  Fallon cocks an eyebrow at me through the rearview mirror. She might not hate that idea. I don't mind it myself. Especially if it were in the same context as two years ago. Hot, sweaty, and naked.

  I try to keep Aisling occupied as much as possible as Fallon drives. But she is a busy little thing who likes to climb, jump, and get into just about everything. She barely sits still. At one point, she got a hold of Fallon’s hair. That went over spectacularly.

  The car ride was not pleasant, but Fallon wasn’t stopping until we reached the rest stop this March fella directed us to.

  By the time we get there, it’s early afternoon, Aisling is hungry, her diaper is wet, and she is fussy as shit. I think we are all ready to get the fuck out of the car.

  “Go inside and get a table.” Fallon opens the glove compartment and pulls out a wad of twenty-dollar bills.

  I look at the little diner attached to the gas station. It isn’t much, but it’ll do. “I would love to, but I have a feeling no shoes, no shirt, no service even applies in there,” I allude to my bare feet.

  “Fuck,” Fallon bristles. “Fine, stay here.”

  She climbs out of the car, and I watch her make her way over to a few truckers congregating outside their sleds. She speaks quickly and animatedly, and then flashes some cash. The driver with a yellow cap nods, then leaves, then returns holding a pair of work boots.

  “I’ll be damned.”

  Fallon strides back to the car with the three truck drivers checking out her ass. Is it wrong that I want to pop each one of their beady eyes out with a rusty fishhook? She opens the back door and drops the boots in my lap. “Problem solved.”

  I pause. “Did you just do a drug deal for a pair of Doc Martens?”

  Fallon smiles brashly.

  “Hold her.” I hand Aisling off to Fallon so I can try on my new kicks, and her smile evaporates. We’re gonna need to foster her maternal side if this partnership is going to work.

  I slide the shoes on as Fallon holds Aisling like she’s a ticking time bomb.

  “She isn’t going to explode.” I stand and resituate the two of them, forcing Fallon to cradle Aisling’s bottom in the crook of her elbow. As soon as Aisling is close enough, she wraps her arms around Fallon's neck. It’s the sweetest picture, even though the look on Fallon’s face says otherwise.

  “You’ll get used to it.” I put Fallon out of her misery and take Aisling from her.

  “I doubt it. Go get a table. I need to call March.” She’s all work and no play.

  I’m all for that. My stomach is growling like a predatory animal in the night.

  Fallon and I part ways so I can take care of my priorities and she can take care of hers.

  5

  Fallon

  “I knew this was going to happen!” March chews a hole right through my earpiece. “I knew it. I knew it. I knew you were going to take one look at that fine Irish piece of ass and not be able to pull the trigger.”

  I pinch the bridge of my nose, wishing March was in reaching distance so I could strangle him. An “I told you so” is the last thing I need right now.

  “It wasn’t like that,” I vehemently disagree. “It didn’t have anything to do with him. The girl changed everything.”

  “Mmm, if I didn’t know your past, I’d call bullshit. But you’ve got yourself into one sour pickle.”

  “You think I don’t know that?” I stare off into the distance as my hair whips in the cold, unforgiving wind.

  “So, what’s the plan?” March is all aboard, even though he knows this can, and probably will, end terribly for all of us.

  “Get us some new identities. We need to get Aisling out of the country. I’m not sure where yet. It sounds like Declan had a plan, so I’ll need to get the details. Then, when she’s safe, we’ll come back and take care of Ronan.”

  “Berry Girl, have you gone insane? You’re going to take care of Ronan? Why don’t I just sign the death certificate now and save us all the trouble?”

  “It’s her only chance. You know he’ll never stop looking for her.”

  “She isn’t the only one he won’t stop looking for,” he alludes.

  I don’t verbally respond.

  So, maybe this whole thing isn’t solely about Aisling. Maybe it’s a little bit about me. But what does it matter? In the end, we all get what we want. Freedom.

  “Look, how long is it going to take to get the docs?”

  “A few weeks. I’m going to have to use the back channels of my back channels, and Ronan is going to be breathing down my neck. What am I supposed to tell him? He’s gonna want to know what happened to you.

  “I don’t know. maybe that Declan is holding me hostage?”

  “He would never believe that.”

  “Maybe tell him I’m using a different tactic?”

  “How ’bout I just tell him you went dark, and I think you’re dead?”

  “That works, too.”

  A pained groan from March’s end rumbles in my ear. “You’re killin’ me, Smalls.”

  “Killin’ is what I do.” I turn to look for Declan and Aisling. They’re sitting safely at a table inside. “Let me go talk to Dax and see what his master plan is. In the meantime, find us someplace to stay. We’re gonna need a big care package, too.”

  “Already on it. Give me an hour, then call me back with a list.”

  “Done.” I yank the earpiece out of my ear.

  Inhaling a deep breath, I survey the sparse surroundings. There’s nothing but highway and dreary gray clouds for miles. Inspiring.

  When I walk inside the tiny diner, I’m hit with the smell of burnt bacon and sweet pancakes. The place is pretty sparse and a tad bit grimy.

  I sit down across from Declan who is fighting with Aisling to eat a bowl of Cheerios.

  “No!” She slams her hands down, sending the contents of the bowl all over the table.

  “Shit, no, c’mon, munchkin girl.” Declan uses every napkin on the table to sop up the spilled milk. I am fifty-percent amused and fifty-percent annoyed. On the run with a toddler is going to be a fucking challenge.

  “She’s a handful, huh?” I pick up a rolled oat and pop it into my mouth.

  “Sometimes, I would rather take on fifty guys with machine guns than fight with her to eat. Or sleep. Or change. Or anything.” He rubs his eyes, clearly exhausted. “They didn’t have beignets, so I got jelly donuts instead.” He pushes the plate in front of him in my direction with a cocky little smirk. “And coffee. Extra cream and sugar.”

  I glare at Declan as Aisling makes a racket banging the spoon against the table.

  “Why are you giving me the death stare?” He grabs her hand to stop the irritating noise.

  “Let’s just be clear. Whatever happened in the past stays in the past. There’s nothing going on here.” I pass my index finger between us. “I’m going to help you get Aisling out of the country. And then help you take care of Ronan, and then we will go our separate ways. Got it? All this is strictly business.”

  “Fine.” He sounds a tad defensive. But I really don’t care. I want to be clear. I want to draw the line in the sand now. “Does that go for common courtesy as well?”

  “No, we can be civil. But no more kissing. Or trying to butter me up with memories of the past.”

  “Fine.” He puts his tattooed hands up in surrender. “But you can't say those beignets weren’t some of the best things you’ve ever put in your mouth.” He pops his eyebrows.

  I roll my eyes. “Yes, the fried dough was amazing.”

  Declan rolls up a napkin and throws it at me. “I remember you being more fun.”

  “Circumstances were different. We weren’t running for our lives. And speaking of that. What exactly was your master plan? Where do you want to take her?” I glance over at Aisling, and she gives me a devilish little smile. Her tiny chiclet teeth showing.

  “I have a cousin in Scotland. No one knows about her. We were close growing up in Ireland. She went to university in Edinburgh around the same time I left for America. She ended up marrying some Scottish businessman and never went home. I know she’ll take her.” He seems confident.

  “So, are you just going to show up on her doorstep? Or have you reached out?”

  “No, I'm just going to show up. It’ll be safer if no one knows we’re coming.”

  “I agree, but what if she won’t take her?”

  “She will. Besides, it will only be temporary. I plan on raising my girl. She may grow up with a funny accent, but at least she'll be safe. And we’ll be together.”

  “Which accent are you referring to? English, Irish, or Scottish?”

  “All of the above.” He laughs.

  “Okay.” I agree, as Aisling chants, “Da, Da, Da,” while hitting the table. It’s getting annoying. “March said it will take a few weeks to get the new identities, so we’ll just have to lay low. He’s finding us a place to stay. Make a list of what you need. He’ll drop off a care package.”

  “Sounds like a plan. Diapers are first on the list. I’m going to have to use my shirt pretty soon if we don’t get some.”

  “I’m starting to see a pattern. No shoes, no shirt. Soon, you’ll just be running around naked.” I take a sip of lukewarm coffee.

  “Wouldn't be a bother for me. I seem to recall how much you enjoyed me in my birthday suit.”

  “Yes, well, now I'm enjoying you fully clothed. Let’s keep it that way.”

  “Fine, party pooper.”

  “Speaking of poop.” I hear Aisling making a strange noise. Her little cheeks are super pink, and she looks as if she’s thinking really hard.

  “Shite,” Declan curses.

  “You called it. Maybe your shirt is coming off after all.”

  “Wouldn’t be the first time I gave my shirt to a lady.”

  I curl my lip, recalling how I lived in Declan’s T-shirt while we were together in New Orleans. It was soft and oversized and lingered with the scent of his masculinity.

  “Let’s go find a convenience store.” I pull my shirt over my nose. Holy mother, the smell. “Before she clears out the entire place.”

  “Agreed.” Declan stands and throws a twenty down on the table. Then he grabs Aisling, and out the door we go.

  6

  Declan

  I try not to throw up as I change Aisling’s diaper in the back seat of the car. “God, girl, where does all this shite come from?” Pun intended.

  She just giggles, thoroughly enjoying her daddy’s distress.

  “March found us a spot,” Fallon informs me as I remove the hazardous waste. “He's sending the coordinates to the GPS. We’ll have to ditch the car once we get settled.”

  “Sounds good.” I toss the diaper onto the side of the road. Aisling tries to escape, but Fallon scoops her up before she can get far.

  “Where do you think you’re going? You’re gonna have to be faster than that to get away from me.” She places her into the back seat and shuts the door. “We need to get her a jacket. She’s going to freeze to death out here.”

  I snort. “You almost sound like you care.”

  “Isn’t the whole point of this dangerous venture to keep her alive? That would be some fucking poetic irony if we lost her in our care.”

  “True.” I climb into the back seat with Aisling and place her on my lap.

  Fallon drives off into God’s country, and soon we’re pulling into a trailer park in the middle of fucking nowhere. “Well, your friend March is an overachiever. No one is going to find us way the fuck out here.” There is nothing but dense forest surrounding the secret clearing.

  “He is a master at what he does,” Fallon concurs as she pulls up to a trailer with a sign that reads rentals. “Stay here,” she orders. She’s so damn bossy, and I can’t even hate her for it. It fucking turns me on.

  I stand Aisling on my thighs. “Everything I found attractive in your mommy is the exact opposite I find attractive in Fallon.” She bounces as I speak in a soft, silly tone. “Daddy’s a lunatic.” She has no idea what I’m talking about, and that’s okay. Sometimes it’s good just to confess. Sometimes, late at night, I find myself confessing a little too much.

  Fallon returns faster than I expect, carrying a letter-sized envelope.

  “Number twelve seventy-three. Nice and tucked away, I was informed.”

  “Just what we need, a secluded love nest.”

  “Secluded, yes. Love nest, no.” We drive through the, I’ll call it country, development. Lots of junk thrown about, and lots of unsavory lookin’ guys smokin’ cigarettes outside. Seems like my kind of crowd.

  We pull up to a tan-colored double-wide that actually looks half decent.

  “We need to call March with a list as soon as we get inside.” Fallon throws the car into park.

  “Roger that.”

  The inside of the mobile home is just as underwhelming as the outside. But it’s habitable. A little kitchen and dining area take up most of the livable space, with two tiny bedrooms and a bathroom in the back.

  The bonus is there’s a love seat with a matching recliner.

  Fallon rummages through the kitchen drawers until she finds what she’s looking for.

  “Here, write.” She drops a pen and paper down on the little kitchen table. She rips open the envelope and empties its contents as I brainstorm. A few burner phones, a roll of cash, and two pieces of serious hardware.