Page 104 of Mine

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Heavy breathing sounds into my ear. Not the soft intake of breath I’m used to. It’s measured. It’s male.

My steps slow.

‘Who is this?’ I ask, voice steady.

‘Mr Kincaid.’ A smooth South American accent purrs.

My pulse doesn’t spike. It narrows. Because I recognise that accent. It’s the fucking Colombian’s. What have they done?

Looks like Kavanagh’s debt just became ours.

Fuck.

‘Where is my wife?’ I ask.

A soft chuckle. ‘Safe. For now.’

The gravel crunches under my boots as I stop moving entirely.

James and Lewis both look at me.

They know.

‘If you’ve touched her,’ I say quietly, ‘there won’t be enough left of you to identify.’

‘Relax,’ the voice replies. ‘We’re businessmen. This isn’t personal.’

It’salwayspersonal.

‘Rumour has it that you have something that belongs to me. Now I have something that belongs to you.’

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

‘I want my stock back. All of it. The heroin—and the women.’

‘I didn’t think women were Cruz’s currency.’

‘They weren’t until Kavanagh approached us.’ He pauses, heavy breathing echoes into my ear. ‘Deliver the goods to the warehouse in Belfast before midday and your wife will be fine. If you’re late, or if you don’t show, I’ll let every single one of my men take turns with her before selling her off to the highest bidder.’ His voice is low and cold.

The line goes dead.

49

AOIFE

Ipace the living room at Dominic’s house, our house, I suppose, trying—and failing—not to think about where my husband is going and what he’s going to do.

We were only gone for two weeks, but I feel like an entirely different woman to the one who left this house for the Shelbourne. I feel… stronger, surer… and something I never expected to feel in this house: settled.

The house is quiet.

Too quiet.

A shiver ripples over my spine.

I wander into the kitchen and pour myself a glass of water, forcing away images of what’s happening ten miles away in some dark, dingy warehouse.

Dominic warned me he wasn’t a good man.

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