Irish Throwdown (What Happens In Vegas Book 4) by Matt Lincoln (short books for teens .TXT) 📕

the building and caught sight of a thin form sprinting through the alley behind the bar. I gave chase, urging my legs to move faster as I raced after him.

I glanced over my shoulder and noticed that Naomi wasn’t behind me. She was probably still back in the bar, dealing with the aftermath of having just broken someone’s arm. I was momentarily tempted to stop and return, but in the end, I decided to keep after Brady. She could take care of herself, and if I let up now, it would have all been for nothing.

Brady must have heard my footsteps because he turned to look over his shoulder as soon as I started following him. He let out a yell that was something between a scream and a squeak before turning back around. He reached out to knock over a plastic trash can as he ran, but it was easy enough for me to hurtle it. He looked back again to check if the trash can had actually slowed me down and screamed again when he saw that I was even closer now.

At the end of the alley, he took a sharp corner without slowing down, probably hoping to shake me off once I lost sight of him. Unfortunately for him, the ground was slick from the rain, and his shoe slid in a puddle as he took the corner. I watched as he fell face-first onto the ground, and I even winced at the sharp crunch his chin made as it hit the concrete sidewalk.

“Don’t move,” I ordered as I caught up to him. “Put your hands behind your back.”

He did as I commanded without hesitation, and I felt a pang of sympathy as I leaned down to handcuff him and realized tears were streaming down his eyes.

“Miranda,” Naomi huffed as she ran down the alley toward us. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” I nodded as I helped the kid up onto his feet. He was trembling like a leaf and was openly crying.

“Stop!” a thundering voice called out from the same alley. I watched as O’Callaghan lumbered up to us, accompanied by several other people from the bar, including the man who’d been hitting on Naomi. Their expressions were angry, and some, including O’Callaghan’s, looked downright murderous. “You can’t arrest him. He hasn’t broken any laws.”

“He’s been dealing drugs,” I retorted. “That’s what he’s being arrested for.”

“Are you serious?” O’Callaghan roared. “You broke my arm and chased a teenager down through the rain because of some drugs?”

“Is there something else we should be arresting him for?” I snarled.

O’Callaghan frowned but didn’t say anything.

“I broke your arm,” Naomi sneered, “because you assaulted a federal agent. You should be worrying about being arrested yourself. And yes, he’s being arrested on suspicion of drug trafficking. I know that for a long time, you’ve believed that your organization is above the law, but that ends today.”

Naomi’s harsh declaration stunned the group into silence. She’d been bluffing since we didn’t really know very much about their group or if they were even part of the mob, but her accusation had obviously struck a chord.

“You’ll regret this,” O’Callaghan barked as Naomi and I frogmarched Brady back toward the car. “You have no idea who you’re screwing around with!”

34

Fiona

I inhaled the rich, warm scent emanating from the coffee pot as I watched the liquid inside bubble. I was taking refuge in the break room for just a few minutes before getting back to work. It was still early in the morning, but so much had happened the previous night that I hadn’t been able to sleep well, and I already felt tired.

First, Junior had called me just a few hours after Miranda and Naomi had left to inform me that they’d apprehended the leader of the organization behind the current case, and that he just so happened to be the boss of the Irish Mafia, and that he needed me to try to track down a Liam O’Sullivan staying somewhere in Northern Ireland. Then, a few hours after that, Miranda and Naomi had returned to the office with a hysterical teenager in tow and had said something similar about the Irish Mafia being involved with the original designer drug cases.

I sighed as the machine chimed to let me know the coffee was ready. I hadn’t been able to find any trace of this Liam O’Sullivan guy, and I felt guilty. I also felt bad for the kid that Miranda and Naomi had dragged in, who’d spent the entire night crying in lockup. I knew because I’d been there all night myself. I’d only gone home to check on my dog, Beau, and when I came back, he was in the exact same position, still sobbing.

Miranda had explained that they were using him as leverage to get the real people involved to talk, but it still seemed too cruel to me. I’d gotten him some hot chocolate after everyone else had left, and he’d accepted it gratefully before finally falling asleep.

As I poured myself my third cup of coffee that morning, I wondered if I really had what it took to do this job. I was confident in my abilities as a researcher and data analyst, but sometimes I thought I was a little too soft-hearted. Federal agents shouldn’t feel bad for criminals, right?

I shook my worries away as I headed back into my office. This wasn’t the time to get all introspective. I was about halfway through the bullpen when the keypad beeped to indicate that the door had been unlocked.

Miranda and Naomi had just left, and I wondered if one of them had forgotten something to be back so soon. To my horror, the person who stepped through the door wasn’t either of them, but rather a complete stranger, with dark red hair and freckles dusting his cheeks and forehead.

“Who are you?” I demanded immediately. I moved my arm as though to reach for my gun, but with one arm in a sling