My Pulse

Chapter 5: Quinn Keane

The week flies by, I think while eating a stolen donut from the conference room.

"What was the final score of the game last night?" Rowan asks, eyeing my donut suspiciously. "On second thought, where did you get that?" he asks.

"Conference room," I manage to say through a mouthful of powdered sweetness. I smile at him and jump when Fidah Cully asks, "He's cute, don't you think?" Her eyes greedily follow Rowan as he walks away.

"Yeah, I guess so," I reply, focusing on my computer screen. I glance at Fidah and laugh when I see her still staring after him. "He'd probably be interested, you know," I tell her, suggesting she should ask him out.

"Really?" she asks, a gleam in her eye.

"Really," I confirm.

"Well, would you go on a double date with me?" she asks hopefully.

"Oh, no, I'm not dating right now," I tell her.

Meanwhile, I try not to think about Cian. What did he say his last name was? O'Shean? No, that's not right. It's... I freeze in my tracks.

O'Shea. That's what he said, and I remember the gleam in his eye when he told me his name. It was like he had been waiting for my reaction, and now I know why.

"Are you okay?" Fidah asks, a tinge of worry in her voice.

"What? Yes, of course. I'm sorry. I just remembered I forgot to email someone yesterday before leaving work," I mumble, trying to explain my strange behavior.

"Oh, okay. Well, anyway, let's get coffee soon; I miss you," she says sincerely.

"I miss you too," I reply, meaning it, and promise we'll catch up soon.

Right now, though, I need to research like my life depends on it.

Everyone in Ireland knows the bloody story of the O'Shea family and how they were mercilessly pursued and killed by the now-reigning O'Connors to transition into a new criminal regime.

To gain all the power, they had to eliminate everyone. The only survivor is Cian O'Shea, who miraculously survived one of the deadliest takeovers in Irish history.

The story goes that he wakes up in the sick ward of a local orphanage after a car bomb nearly kills him. He's estimated to be about eight years old when the battle occurs, and his whereabouts afterward remain unknown, as I find during my search.

Well, I know exactly where he is, I think grudgingly, tormenting my days and haunting my dreams.

It's believed he heals and recovers at the orphanage. No one thinks to look for him because everyone believes he's dead, like the rest of his family.

His younger life remains largely unknown, making it impossible to read between the lines. How can I figure out who this man is and what he wants from me?

It doesn't take long for goosebumps to crawl over my skin as I read through his criminal history. Although he eludes both the police and his enemies, he has a documented history of theft, assault, and murder charges. It's estimated that he has killed over 20 people, leaving bodies and pain in his wake, driven by vengeance.

It's sad, but he has become a dark legend. His life will always be one for the history books. As I browse through the image section on Google, the only photo they have is a sketch of a man who would be roughly his age now.

The sketch doesn't look anything like him, and a wave of relief washes over me. What is this feeling? I falter. He deserves to be caught for his crimes, and I should tell the police what I know.