Kieran by Kassanna

cold air burned her lungs as she inhaled. Heavy footsteps followed her. She slowed up and veered left, leaping to catch the metal coils of a chain-link fence. Sharp points bit into her palm as she heaved herself up. Almost there, she reached for the top bar, missed a toehold and dropped, bouncing against the metal netting. Her biceps burned and beads of sweat dotted her forehead despite the cool temperatures. Her coat caught on a jagged spike and ripped.
    The man chasing her clutched her ankle, and she flailed her legs. He twisted her around, forcing her to let go of the fence. She slid down, and he grabbed her by the lapel and shook her. Rica beat at his arm, twisting to get free of the jacket. He spun her around, rammed her into the barrier and plowed a fist into her ribs. Pain exploded through her side. She weaved her fingers through the diamond-shaped openings, pulling herself along the barricade.
    “Where the hell you think you’re going?” He smashed another blow into her back.
    Her legs went weak and tears filled her eyes. One foot in front of the other, she had to get away. Her vision wavered.
    “That’s right. Run, girl.” His voice came from far away.
    “Go to hell.” Her words were barely a whisper. Saliva pooled in her mouth, and she swallowed.
    “This is for my friend.” He struck her in the back of the head. “You should have been nicer to us.”
    She fell, her arms extended above her head as she clung to the fence. Dizziness made her head swim. The guy squatted in front of her. He stabbed his index finger into her temple. She shut her lids and took in deep breaths to slow the spinning.
    Kieran’s image fluttered in her mind. She was always secure in handling her own because she knew he stood at her back.  No way in hell would her man allow her to leave this life like this. There would be hell to pay. Rica opened her eyes and tried to focus. “You’re going to die, and I’m going watch.” A faint giggle escaped her before everything around her faded to darkness.
    ***
    Kieran checked his watch. Martin was supposed to pick up Rica and bring her to him then return to open up Irish. His man was fucking up left and right. He’d had his secretary make reservations for two for dinner.
    “You don’t need me for anything else--right?” Both of Goo’s brows rose up. “There is a woman…with…” He cupped his hands in front of his chest.”
    “Keep your phone on in case something comes up. Get the hell out of here.” Kieran waved his hand.
    Martin passed Goo as he entered the office.
    Kieran stared at him and tilted his head to the side to see beyond the younger guy. “Where’s Rica?”
    “She’s not here?” Martin spun in place.
    He tamped down his irritation. This was why most of his men were college graduates. Martin was going back to school this fucking fall. “Would I ask you where she was if she were here?”
    “I guess not.” Martin chuckled. “She left with Roscoe. He said he would drop her off here after their errand. I stayed at Irish to open the bar and let the staff in.” He fell into the seat facing Kieran’s desk and pulled a magazine from his inside coat pocket.
    Kieran lifted his phone and scrolled through the contacts. He tapped Rica’s number. He’d called her once already with no answer. Several rings, and the call went to voicemail. A swipe of the screen, and he ended the call before locating Roscoe’s number and hitting the handset icon.
    “Hey, Kieran.” Roscoe’s chipper tone was loud.
    “Where is Rica?” He was a lot of things, but when it came to his pretty girl, he was far from patient.
    “I dropped her off.” Concern colored his old friend’s voice.
    “Where? She’s not here.” He wasn’t getting a straightforward answer and the old mans feigned ignorance was annoying. He didn’t doubt for a minute that Roscoe didn’t understand what he was asking.
    A female voice filled the background. Flight eighty-nine to Memphis has been delayed .