Of course, it wouldn’t actually be any O’Donnelly. It would be me. I’d be the one who made sure that no one hurt my son.
The thought had me grinding my teeth as I rasped, “Here’s my cell. Stay on the line with your uncle.”
“No,” Brennan replied, his tone modulated. “I want to talk with you.”
I narrowed my eyes, but I wasn’t about to argue, not when I had things to do. I triggered the security alert on the alarmed door, then turned to Seamus and whispered, “Remember the code?” His swift nod had me continuing, “You make sure you fire calmly. Methodically. Don’t waste bullets. But do not—do you hear me?—allow yourself to be moved to another location. They shouldn’t break through the door, but do as I say, okay?”
Seamus nodded, and because he registered my tone, the severity of it, his face turned from pure white with fear to a staunch resolve that told me he was ready for whatever might come his way.
Of course, that might involve listening to me being shot or…
I blew out a breath.
Raped.
Fuck.
I sent up a quick prayer to a God I’d stopped believing in a long time ago, promising, ‘I promise I’ll attend church again if you just make sure Seamus doesn’t have to hear that.’
When there was no answer, no miracle that made things better, I just heaved a sigh, closed the closet door that was part of a safe room I’d had installed before we moved in, and heard the locks click into place.
Rushing around the bed, I turned off the speaker and put the phone to my ear even as I opened the nightstand drawer to pull out a revolver.
It dwarfed my hand, and looked a little ridiculous in my grasp, but it could look stupid all the way to the bank. I didn’t give a damn so long as the fucker worked.
“How long until the cops get here, Brennan?”
“They’re saying four minutes ETA.”
I gulped. “A lot can happen in four minutes.”
“You’ll be fine,” he told me, his tone almost soothing.
In a previous life, Brennan had either been Sigmund Freud or a hypnotist. I wasn’t sure which.
I checked that the gun was loaded—even though I knew it was—and when I found it packed with ammo, I sucked in a breath and settled myself at the side of the bed, my back to the nightstand, my arm on the mattress for support.
With my butt on the ground, I listened to the reassuring sound of Brennan breathing—slow and deep, no panic to it. No rush. And I forced my heart to stop pounding, forced myself to calm down and to emulate his breathing.
“You did good, Aela. You taught him well.”
“Had to. He’s one of you even if I tried to protect him from all this. Would be like sending a baby chick into a fox’s den and expecting him not to get bitten.”
Brennan’s snort said it all. “Maybe, but I never expected you to instruct him the way you did. You did good.”
Because I didn’t live for any man’s approval, I said nothing and just rolled my eyes. I was a mom, for God’s sake. What did he expect me to do? Leave my baby unprotected?
Of course, I apparently had. Somehow my security system had been bypassed. That was a half a million down the drain, but more than that, Seamus wasn’t safe.
God help me.
Tuning my ear into the silence of the house, I had to wonder if I was overreacting, if I’d even heard the glass breaking, the sound reminiscent of someone messing with the back door to gain access to the handle. If ithadhappened, why hadn’t that tripped the alarm? I didn’t get it. Unless…
I’d set the alarm, hadn’t I?
In the mayhem, had I forgotten?
Christ, I couldn’t remember.