Rolling out of the dealership, he decided that rather than heading right back to the hotel, he’d open it up for a drive down the motorway. He was still getting used to driving here, with the traffic and the steering wheel on the opposite sides from in the States, but this was his home now, so he might as well embrace it.
Turning on the radio, he cranked up an oldies station playing Led Zeppelin and enjoyed how smooth the car drove. Making his way toward the Wicklow Mountains just outside of Dublin, he turned toward the old Maguire compound, stopping at a hardware store along the way for supplies.
It would be dark soon, but he still had time to see with the aid of the heavy-duty flashlight he’d purchased at B&Q. He opened the package and slipped the batteries inside before making his way to the castle ruin and climbing over the lowest section of broken wall to balance himself on the edge of the tangled metal beneath him.
Pointing the flashlight down into one of the open gaps, he struggled to see what lay beneath. Even with the flashlight, it was hard to make out anything but massive amounts of debris. The metal had dripped downward, sagging toward the block floors beneath it and upsetting the contents below so that it was just all a huge mess, much too much so to make anything out.
He turned off the light and climbed back out of the ruins, heading back to the car. Perhaps when the Omegas began to clear the contents from it, he would be able to find out more about the fate of the men below. He wondered if Maeve was familiar with the dungeon or if only the Alphas had been allowed down there.
The thought of her quickly derailed his ability to think of anything else and he sent her a text before pulling off the property. The radio was playing sappy 80s ballads now, so he changed the station, landing instead on a news segment that sent him reeling in disbelief.
There had been an explosion at his hotel, but there weren’t many details about it. He had no way of knowing if it was large or small, but if that was what had rocked the cab on his way to the dealership, he’d guess it was sizable.
Approaching the area, he quickly found that it was roped off and he wasn’t able to get to the parking garage. Instead, he found a pay lot and parked the car there before walking the two blocks back to the hotel.
“I’m sorry, but you can’t go in there,” a young guard told him as he walked toward the entrance.
“I’m a guest in the hotel. How am I supposed to get to my room?”
“I’m afraid you can’t right now, but the staff is set up across the street in the cafe if you want to speak with them about your options.”
“What happened here?”
“Move along, sir. I’m not at liberty to discuss the details.”
Ronan looked toward the hotel again. The main part of the building seemed okay from the exterior, but the portion that adjoined it and housed the entrance to the parking garage was a black gaping hole with smoke still pouring out of it and fireman soaking it with hoses.
He went to the cafe to talk to the hotel staff and quickly realized that things were much worse than they seemed.
“Name?” the young woman said.
Her voice shook. She was obviously nervous.
“Ronan McNally.”
“Ronan McNally?”
“Yes.”
The woman suddenly looked alarmed and turned toward an officer standing behind her, nudging him with an elbow. He turned to see what she wanted, and she nodded toward Ronan.
“This is Ronan McNally.”
With that, the whole place seemed to take on a whole new life, with several officers rushing forth to grab him and pull his arms behind his back. He was soon in plasti-cuffs and being hauled sideways despite his protests. He was dimly aware of his rights being read to him and some statute indicating he was accused of a terrorist act.
Before he could argue, he was tossed into the back of a Gardai van and was being transported to the station. It was obvious that this had something to do with the situation at the hotel, but he had no idea what that had to do with him when he wasn’t even there.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Maeve
Maeve tried Ronan’s cell phone once more, telling herself it was the last time. Perhaps he was just busy and not answering. At least, that is what she wanted to believe until told differently. The reports were still coming in about his hotel. There were many injuries and at least twenty fatalities so far.
He had still been in his room when she left, and with so little detail being given about what had happened and what was continuing to happen, she wouldn’t know if he were safe until she could get in touch with him. She paced back and forth across the room, feeling like she might come right out of her skin each time her phone chirped or rang.