Page 4 of No Going Back

No way in hell.

If they found her in the hidden closet, she’d fight with everything she had. Which wasn’t much. She was a pub owner, not a martial arts expert. The only weapon she had was her phone.

She debated turning off the recording to call 911 but decided against it. She should be safe if she remained quiet. The recording would be the proof she needed to get Hawley arrested.

Footsteps thumped up the stairs and around the bar. The door to the snug banged open, and she clamped her teeth together to keep the scream inside. “She’s not in here.” She didn’t know the voice.

“Where the hell is she? You told me she was here.” The rage in Prince’s voice had chills running over her skin.

She could hear male voices responding, but they weren’t shouting like Prince, so she couldn’t hear the words.

Then the voice escalated, and she couldn’t distinguish anything except grunts. Tables and chairs crashed, and Branna struggled to keep her breathing even.

After a few moments, a gunshot sounded, and she tried to shrink into herself. Who had been shot? If she was lucky, it was Prince, and his goons had turned on him.

Her hope was short-lived when he shouted. “Leave him where he lies. Now, burn it to the ground. Cover the exits so the bitch doesn’t escape. I want her alive and begging.”

Terror raced through her. Burn it? Burn O’Dea’s? Had he shot one of his friends? If a police officer had arrived to stop them, they’d be running, not planning arson. But, if he burned the bar, it would cover the murder.

He was going to burn the bar. With her in it. He was trying to smoke her out.

If she left her secret closet, she’d be at the mercy of Prince and his friends. Dying from smoke inhalation wouldn’t be as bad as what he probably planned to do to her. She’d heard the tales.

But she didn’t want to die, and she wasn’t going to.

A memory from childhood niggled in her brain, and she latched onto it. Was it possible? Could she still do it?

Maybe none of this was necessary. Maybe they were playing a game out there. Once the firefighters and police arrived, she’d be safe. But no sirens approached.

There were no more voices, so she took a risk and stopped the recording. She uploaded the file to the cloud as proof. If she lost her phone or they took it from her, the proof would still be there.

She’d have to turn off her phone before she left the building. Prince had more than a few techies in his gang. The hackers did loads of illegal stuff, and she bet they could track her phone.

Tears threatened, and Branna had to take a few moments to pull herself together. She couldn’t die crying in a closet. Her dad and Charlie would be so ashamed. Although her brother had been dead for years, she could hear him telling her to be brave. To take the risk.

And to trust his friend.

She knew Sean would come. No matter where she was or what she needed.

He hadn’t been able to stay long after Charlie’s funeral, but he’d made her memorize his phone number as well as put it in her phone. “Any time. Anything you need, Sally.”

The memory had her smiling and battling back the tears. She’d been the tagalong just like Charlie Brown’s little sister Sally. Charlie and Sally.

He’d always called her that when he was in a teasing mood.

She coded a text to the number she remembered, but didn’t send it. Not yet. Not until the last minute. Maybe she could find her own way out.

Instead, she turned the video back on, hoping to get pictures along with the sounds. The smell of smoke reached her, and she heard a few whoops and cheers. They’d done it. O’Dea’s Pub was on fire.

She worried they could have set a small fire in the pub to flush her from her hiding place, so she decided to stay where she was until she was sure.

But the smell got stronger, and the smoke got thicker. Whatever was on fire, it was big. She caught the odor of gasoline as well, and her heart sank. Her dad’s legacy was burning.

Branna slowly stood and eased her aching muscles. She gripped her phone and slid the door open. The wood might have creaked, but the noise of the fire was louder by far.

The snug was hazy but empty. She slipped out of the closet and to the snug’s door. Smoke was thick in the main room, but she didn’t see anyone. Still, she kept her phone recording.

With a deep breath, she crouched and moved behind the bar. She needed to get to the opposite end of the pub and up the stairs.