Midnight Captive Read Free

world—just Dublin, according to the screen. Bailey listened in dismay as the reporter quickly recapped the unfolding events to viewers who were just tuning in. There was a holdup in process at a downtown branch of Dublin National Bank. A half dozen masked, armed men had taken the bank employees and patrons hostage, and the law enforcement officers surrounding the bank were attempting to negotiate with the robbers. Apparently the situation was beginning to escalate, with reports of shots fired and hostages screaming.
    “Turn it up,” Bailey told Paige, leaning forward when a shaky camera image suddenly filled the screen.
    Paige raised the volume, and the urgent voice of the female newscaster blared out of the speakers.
    “—courageous woman uploaded a video to her social network page. We don’t know how she was able to record this, but it’s been confirmed that the account belongs to Margaret Allen, a twenty-one-year-old student at Trinity College. Be warned—some of these images are not suitable for young viewers.”
    The screen flickered for a beat before the video began to play. Immediately, loud footsteps and angry shouts filled Paige’s living room. The two women watched in silence as jerky images flashed on the screen,accompanied by gruff orders from the robbers and muffled whimpers from the hostages. It was difficult to zero in on any one image—everything was moving too fast, and the men in charge wore all black, from the ski masks on their faces right down to the boots on their feet.
    An uneasy feeling washed over Bailey as she focused on one of the men. Tall and broad, eye color indiscernible and voice low and deep as he issued a soft command to someone out of the camera’s line of sight.
    “Look at these idiots,” Paige remarked with a sigh. “Do they honestly expect to get away with this?”
    Bailey didn’t answer. Something niggled at the back of her mind, an intangible flicker of familiarity, a sense of bone-deep dread. But she wasn’t sure what was bugging her. People robbed banks all the time. People took hostages. People killed other people and did seriously stupid, dangerous shit every second of every day.
    So why was this particular armed robbery making the hairs on the back of her neck tingle?
    Another anguished sob echoed in the bank, followed by a male response.
    “’S’okay, luv, it’ll all be over soon.”
    The husky timbre of that voice, combined with the faint brogue, turned the blood in Bailey’s veins to ice. A gasp flew out, her heart rate kicking up a notch as she stared at the screen in shock.
    “Oh shit,” she whispered.
    Paige glanced over, big blue eyes swimming with concern when she saw Bailey’s expression. “What is it?”
    “That’s Sean.” Her finger trembled as she jabbed it in the direction of the television.
    “What?” The other woman sounded bewildered. “That’s nuts.”
    Maybe, but Bailey would recognize that voice anywhere. It haunted her dreams every goddamn night.
    “It’s him, Paige. One of the robbers—it’s Sean fucking Reilly.” Horror, shock, and confusion clawed up her throat like icy fingers. “It’s
Sean
.”
    *   *   *
    Dublin, Ireland
    Well. This was his life now. Robbing a bloody bank in bloody Dublin. His ma was probably rolling over in her grave.
    Sean Reilly hadn’t given much thought to how he would die, but considering the dangerous path he walked on a daily basis, the assumption was he’d eventually meet a violent end. Tonight, that fate looked pretty fucking promising. Maybe the Emergency Response Unit hunkered down outside the bank’s doors would swarm in with shoot-to-kill orders. Or maybe one of the snipers positioned on the perimeter would put a strategically placed bullet in his brain.
    Relax, mate. They won’t risk the hostages.
    Bullshit. Sean had worked enough military ops to know there was always at least one crazy asshole on an assault team. One hotshot who thought he could take down the bad