Page 45 of His Kidnapped Irish Mafia Virgin

Paddy nodded once. Within minutes, we were driving through the city. The morning traffic was beginning to build, but it barely registered in my mind. I watched the streets through the window, calculating routes, exits, and blind spots. Marcus had spent days watching Nora, sitting close enough to study her routine while believing he was invisible. He was about to learn what it felt like to be hunted. Diggs called again as we approached the waterfront.

“He just left the building. He’s walking east toward the warehouses, and he’s checked behind him twice in the last minute. I think he knows someone is watching.”

“Keep your distance,” I said. “Don’t give him a reason to run before I get there.”

We stopped two blocks away. I stepped out of the car and adjusted my jacket, ignoring the pull of pain in my shoulder where the old injury still lingered. The air smelled of salt, oil, and rain-soaked concrete. Ahead of me, the shipping district stretched toward the water in a maze of abandoned warehouses, narrow alleys, and rusted loading docks. Perfect terrain for a man who wanted to disappear. Diggs appeared from the corner of a building and handed me a small photograph.

It was him—the same face from Nora’s sketch, the same eyes that had watched her at the bar and across the café.

“He’s inside Warehouse Twelve,” Diggs said quietly. “He went in three minutes ago. Michael is covering the rear exit, and Paddy has men watching the surrounding streets.” I studied the photograph for a moment before folding it and slipping it into my pocket.

“Good,” I said. “Then there’s nowhere left for him to go.”

Diggs looked toward the warehouse. “What’s the plan?”

“We go in, we take him alive, and we make him tell us why he was sent after Nora.”

Without waiting for another word, I started toward the warehouse. It was larger than it looked from the outside. Every sound echoed through the empty space. Diggs moved to my left while Michael circled toward the rear exit. Paddy remained outside with the others, ready to close the net if Marcus tried to break through. I raised a hand, signaling for silence. We stopped behind a stack of containers. From there, I could see him.

He was standing near the far wall, checking the contents of a small duffel bag. He looked exactly as Nora had described him—average height and the kind of face that could disappear in a crowd. For a moment, I watched him without moving. He zipped the bag shut and looked toward the entrance. His body stiffened. He’d sensed us.

“Don’t run,” I said, my voice carrying across the warehouse. “You’ll only make this harder on yourself.”

His eyes locked onto mine. For a fraction of a second, neither of us moved. Then he dropped the bag and bolted.

“Michael, rear exit!” Diggs shouted into his radio.

Marcus sprinted between the containers, knocking over a metal crate as he passed. I followed immediately, the pain in my shoulder flaring with each step, but I ignored it. The warehouse blurred around me as I chased him through narrow aisles and over scattered debris.

He was fast, too fast for an ordinary man. He knew how to move through tight spaces, how to use obstacles to slow a pursuer, and how to disappear for just long enough to create doubt. But I had no intention of losing him. He reached a staircase leading to the upper level and took it two steps at a time. I followed close behind, hearing Diggs and Michael reposition below.

At the top, Marcus kicked open a door and burst onto a narrow metal walkway overlooking the warehouse floor. The railing rattled beneath his weight as I closed the distance. He glanced back once, saw how near I was, and made a desperate decision.

Instead of continuing along the walkway, he vaulted over the railing and dropped onto a lower platform. The impact shook the metal beneath him, and he stumbled. That was the mistake I’d been waiting for.

I jumped down after him, landing hard enough to send pain shooting through my leg, but I didn’t stop. Before he could regain his balance, I drove him against the wall and slammed my forearm across his throat.

He struggled immediately, twisting and striking at my ribs. I tightened my grip.

“Who sent you after Nora?” I asked, my voice low and deadly. He said nothing. His eyes burned with defiance as I pressed harder. “Answer me now, or I’ll make you regret every second of the rest of your life!”

Fear flickered across his face, but vanished almost as quickly as it had appeared. Marcus drove his elbow into my ribs with enough force to loosen my grip for a fraction of a second. He twisted sharply and slammed his shoulder into my chest.

I staggered back a step, the pain in my shoulder flaring violently, and that single moment was all he needed. He sprinted toward the far end of the platform, knocking over a rusted toolbox as he passed. The metal scattered across the floor with a deafening crash.

“Diggs, cut him off at the east corridor. Don’t let him reach the outer loading docks.”

“I’m already moving,” Diggs answered through the radio, his voice tight with concentration.

Marcus reached the end of the platform and kicked open another door, sending a rush of cold air through the warehouse. He disappeared into a narrow service corridor lined with dripping pipes and weak emergency lights, and I followed him without hesitation.

The corridor was barely wide enough for two men to pass each other comfortably. Water dripped steadily onto the concrete floor, and the dim lights cast long shadows that made the space feel even tighter. Ahead of me, I could hear his footsteps pounding against the ground, fast and uneven. The corridor opened into a stairwell leading down toward the loading docks. He took the stairs two at a time, gripping the railing as he turned the corner.

At the bottom of the stairs, he burst through a metal door and into the open dockyard. Morning fog had rolled in from the water, covering the ground in a thin gray haze that swallowed shapes and muffled every sound. For a second, he disappeared into it completely. Then I saw his silhouette moving between the abandoned trucks.

“Michael, he’s heading toward the loading docks. Move to intercept him before he reaches the outer wall.”

“I’m already there,” Michael replied.