Survival & Revenge (Boston Latte Book 3) Page 4

  “Julian.”

  “What?” I coughed while coming down from the unstable high. Who sent Maureen? I shook my head, waiting for her judgment.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” she snapped, her eyes darting around my surroundings before meeting mine. “Do you have any idea how embarrassing this is to our family? And where is your shirt?”

  “My shirt is over there. I got hot, Mau.”

  “It’s freezing in here.” Maureen stepped closer, tightening the grasp of her manicured nails around the front of her fur coat. “I came to talk to you. I was worried.”

  “Did they send you first because you love me the most?” I softened, watching worry paint my sister’s face.

  “Julian.” Maureen paused with a shaking head, her eyes downcast. “How could you?”

  My muscles tightened, and my heart clouded, preparing for the hit of Maureen’s story to corroborate the bullshit spat from the smarmy mouths of Edward Regan and the police officers outside my home.

  “I would never hurt her,” I growled, the rage I felt earlier returning quickly. She watched me almost impassively, as though there was not an answer to satisfy her. Maureen inhaled a breath, her red mouth twitching.

  “They have it all, Julian,” Maureen mumbled. “They have your contract with Elliott and Aideen. They knew you wanted to kill them for their money. They have the proof.”

  “I would never hurt her.”

  “You kept her imprisoned in your home,” Maureen added. “Someone reported seeing you and Elliott argue days before he died, Julian.”

  I stormed the bars between Maureen and me, causing her to jump back as my fingers forced around the iron and my chest heaved against it in fury. I shook them, rattled the constraints, willing the metal to crumple beneath my grasp.

  “You have to help me get out of here, Maureen. I did not touch Aideen! I would never lay a finger on her that she didn’t want.”

  “I don’t know what to do. Should I call Grandfather?”

  Gordon Molloy, the one who cared for our reputation more than anyone else, was not going to help. Should she call him? To say what? Inquire about his game piece and what his next move was? Because sure as shit, if anyone in his lineage had been arrested, Gordon Molloy would have paid off the police tenfold and gifted the newspapers with blackmail and fine liquor in bribe to keep the record from being written.

  I slammed my palms into the bars, my knuckles pierced with a throbbing pain. I kicked. I reached for my sweatshirt and tore it to shreds. And all the while, Maureen stared at me like a disgusted princess watching a brawl from her ivory tower. It’s a game. She is clueless. Yet as much as I knew someone was at fault, I had no information about Aideen or even Liam.

  Chapter Five

  AIDEEN

  I woke to pain radiating from my cheek, like my skin had cracked open, beaten by a brick, but I couldn’t reach it. I tried to lift my hands to touch my face, but something resisted. I waited, listening to my surroundings as I slowly opened my eyes. It was dark, something was blocking my view, and something covered my face. Don’t breathe. Wait.

  I tried moving my hands once more, finding each wasted breath a threat against my survival. The plastic tie scratched my wrists as it dug in, biting my skin with each stubborn move I made to wriggle free. The cold floor beneath me reeked like the bowels of a dumpster, the precious breaths I could barely inhale from behind the fabric covering my face hung with nausea. I should have been panicking, not coherent, able to process and listen. He’ll keep me. He’ll keep me safe. He promised me. I shouldn’t have made him leave. We wouldn’t have gone to my place…Jack!

  It felt like my face was on fire, the rapidly expanding flame of pain spreading along my cheek and through my scalp, while I curled into myself. Warm tears dribbling onto the cold dampness of my mask reminded me time passed, moments ticked between Julian and me. I remembered it all—knowing Julian and the fairytale, his touch, his taste, all of it. I needed to remember it, because the new memories of every action that brought me to be bound and lying against a cold, hard floor were threatening to take over my thoughts. If I told him it was his grandfather, had I the courage, he wouldn’t have gone back there. I wouldn’t be here. This is my fault. It all was. If I hadn’t known Malcolm, he wouldn’t have hurt me, and Julian wouldn’t have found me in the hospital and started his damn war. I wouldn’t have come between him and whatever he was against, separating his loyalties. I’m his weakness.

  I wanted to let go. I couldn’t pull myself close enough; the pain was radiating through my shoulders, which extended behind me with bound wrists. What if they kill him? No. They can’t kill Julian…can they?

  I tried to think through the gagging sensation in my throat, struggling to connect the pieces. I knew it was his grandfather in the hospital, but I couldn’t understand why. I wasn’t important. I didn’t hold some special key to unlocking the Molloy family secrets. I didn’t know Julian until then. What the hell happened? What threat was I?

  It was difficult to breathe through the puzzle, air barely squeezing within my tightened chest as I felt the gag of vomit bubble up from my stomach. The sack around my face was saturated with my panic, and I could do nothing but rest in the stew of my torture. I was alone somewhere, bound and humiliated. Humiliated. I had no ego, I cared little for what others thought of me, but pride vanquished as the urge to wipe my soiled face or use the restroom were prevented by shackles of deviance.

  I wanted to go back in time, desperate to get back to the hours we shared with our fairytale. What if he’s hurt? He and Liam. Liam’s last words to me tickled into my thoughts—things could get ugly, don’t trust anyone. Ugly. Trust. I wanted to care about Liam, to know he wasn’t hurt, but my heart wouldn’t let me go beyond the worry I held for Julian.

  “In here.” I heard a man shout somewhere near me, his voice slicing through the hallucination of Julian holding me, stroking my hair and whispering to me in Gaelic. I was caught in the eerie sensation of about to but unable to shiver, as though my body was high on a fear it could not release.

  “Oh, wow.” The man was close, his footsteps echoing into the space around me. I tried to hold my breath, hoping it would prevent me from crying out as two voices stirred above me. I was numb to the vomit and pain, focusing every sense on consuming what I could of the voice and my surroundings.

  “You did her well,” another man snickered. “I’ve been watching her squirm and barf on herself for hours now. Who taught you to tie like that? She can hardly move.”

  Hours. Humiliated, horrified, losing it…

  “None of your business.” I recognized Jack’s voice, and the sound hurt my soul. I let him in, he was a friend, and I knew nothing about him. I shouldn’t have trusted him. He picked my lock, he knew my schedule, he knew when I worked or wasn’t home. Jesus Christ. He knew everything about me.

  The damp sack around my face gagged me, its pungent reminder of incarceration and vulnerability suffocating me while I tried to remain still. My head dropped heavily against my shoulders beyond my control as I was torn from the ground. Do I scream? Do I fight? I shivered as the moisture tickled along my cheek and throat while I was slung over Jack’s shoulder. I knew it was him. He was sober, an alarming characteristic I should have suspected the first minute I observed it yesterday, but his clothes reeked of aged cannabis. I felt guilty for trusting Jack, full of shame and regret with the thought of what I had done to Julian simply by existing.

  My feelings didn’t answer the question of how I could pose any threat to his family, and they only weakened me in that moment as I dangled over the shoulder of a man I hardly knew but who knew everything about me. Things could get ugly, don’t trust anyone. I reminded myself to breathe, to have faith that he would save me again and that I could save myself, but it didn’t change the present. It didn’t alter the fact I was drugged and transported like a damn criminal. I needed to figure out how it was connected; I was desperate to find their weakness. And then what? K
nock them all out, kill them, obliterate the men likely barricading wherever I am? No.

  One thing was clear to me: Liam’s reminder of not trusting anyone was the most honest foreboding, and I would hold that thought with whatever glue remained in my soul. When Jack guided me into a chair, his shoulder balancing my drooping head while he tied my bound wrists around the seat back, I prepared to devour that small glimpse of his compassion and spew it in his face the moment I could. I just needed to stay limp a little longer.

  Jack huffed and grunted while adjusting me against the chair and moving away. I felt his departure like a cold slap in the face, unsure if I was alone but aware I wasn’t without a companion somewhere in that space. The contents of my sack slid further down, landing in a chilling pile against my neck, stopping at the hem that held the fabric in its perverse security.

  “Nice work.” My heart stopped. It separated from my soul with the arrogant sound of Liam’s voice. I was relieved, appalled, and filled with a new fear—vulnerability and betrayal. Why is he here? How is he here? If he is here, where the hell is Julian? I shivered, trying to subdue the scream and sob that wanted to erupt as I considered his trap. Julian.

  “Is she alive?” Liam inquired as a toe jabbed against my knee. It was a gentle tap, less curious and more considerate than expected with his compliment toward Jack. He was stabbed. Julian left to fix it, to help his little brother. Why was he—HOW was he here?

  “Yeah,” Jack replied, and I despised him more than Liam in that moment. I knew Liam was a bag of shit walking in the shadow of his manhood, but Jack was supposed to be my friend. Things could get ugly, don’t trust anyone. Not even Liam? No. If something happens to Julian because of Liam, I will destroy him. I couldn’t control my heartbeat thumping against my ribcage, throbbing with guilt and fear.

  “How long as she been bagged?” A hand was on my shoulder, squeezing once, but only my senses were aware of it. I knew it. It was too light, too faint, but just enough pressure for me to know it was a human, family, reassuring me. His hand was warm, and my body screamed for it once more just to know I hadn’t imagined it because they neglected to speak any further, filling the space with terrifying silence.

  I wanted Liam to come back. His voice, whether now a threat or release, brought me comfort in the familiar. I couldn’t see, but hearing him held enough weight that I stopped thinking. I wanted him because he brought my heart closer to Julian, where it belonged, but he didn’t return.

  I counted minutes, stopping after two hours because I couldn’t hold the numbers in my mind anymore. I knew I wouldn’t have a voice to scream, having held it beneath the vomit and sobs threatening to pour from me through adrenaline rushes that left me weak. I couldn’t shake, rock, comfort myself, or even consider a plan. I was bound, blind, and mute, waiting. Wanting.

  “Babby.” No. The word shook me from a daze, unsure if I heard it or imagined Julian. It repeated twice more, but the third use of his endearment was followed by a laugh that was not his. It tensed my shoulders, triggered my nerves to tighten, and left me raw.

  “That’s a weird one,” Jack considered. “At least call her baby or her name.”

  “Well, babby, he isn’t coming back,” Malcolm gloated, snickering like the deranged bastard he was.

  Jack loosened the band around my throat, coarsely pulling the sack over my head before dropping it on my lap. Its contents glided along my cheek, freshening the scent of my torture. The dim light of the room was blinding. I blinked and struggled to open my eyes against the single ceiling light, but I knew Jack was kneeling before me. I could smell him. His hands dangled at his side, and I watched them, waiting.

  “Good morning, babby,” Malcolm hissed. “Did you sleep well? You look like shit.” I heard him approach, unease overwhelming me as I felt him near me. When Julian catches you, he is going to slice you apart while you beg for your release. I refused to acknowledge him, telling myself to think of Julian. I sang his name so many times in my mind that the melody kept me aware and alert. Don’t look at him. Don’t listen to him. Don’t do anything but sing Julian’s name. Julian. Julian.

  “You smell like it too,” Malcolm continued. “Hey, did you meet my friend, Jack? Well, co-workers more like it. Friends who work together. Sounds familiar, right? Oh. Too soon? Jack, did she tell you she killed my cousin? They worked together.”

  “No, man,” Jack replied from behind, the sound of his voice swirling around me. Elliott. “That’s cold.”

  With my head limply against my chest, I opened my eyes just enough to see beyond my eyelashes. Malcolm’s horrendously disgusting sneakers blinded me with their vibrant array of violently bright neon colors. I wanted to vomit all over them. So I did. I couldn’t help the nerves firing in my stomach, nor the impulse to destroy a piece of Malcolm with whatever I could. There wasn’t anything left in my belly, but the damage had been done with whatever acid my body produced.

  He slapped my right cheek, sending my head over my left shoulder. I glared at the man I promised myself I would kill. I felt my face warm with a grin, considering the pride Julian would have in me once he knew I did that to Malcolm. And it’s only the beginning.

  “Bitch,” Malcolm roared, lifting my head by the damp mess of hair against my scalp. “Who do you think you are?” Aideen. Julian’s. That’s who I am.

  “Not yours,” I whispered, knowing I fueled his fire. I didn’t care. Malcolm Young could do anything he wanted to me, and I would fight however possible until Julian came. He has to come.

  “You might want to tone it down,” Jack whispered. “Boss said keep her alive.”

  “Alive,” Malcolm scoffed, shoving his face against mine, “was a minimum requirement.” His grimy fingers squeezed my chin and pulled my head up, but I avoided his gaze like the contagion it was. Malcolm’s hold tightened, threatening to break my bones, but I resisted no matter how fiercely he moved me. Don’t look at him. With a harsh shove, my head snapped backward, and I was filled with a piercing pain from my spine through my brain, before Malcolm kicked my chair. I toppled onto the ground, pulling my aching head inward between my tensed shoulders as I slammed against the concrete floor.

  “Alive,” Malcolm mocked. “We’ll see.”

  Swirls of red and white flashed in my vision like fireworks, fizzling and repeating like the torture now plaguing my heart. Everything was blurry and I couldn’t focus, but I recognized Jack as he squatted before me. His hands were twisting around something. The hood. The sack. My imprisonment.

  “How?” I choked, lifting my eyes to meet his. I couldn’t control the blinking as I fought the inability to see through blood and tears. He ignored me and didn’t move.

  “How could you do this to me?” I whispered to him, studying what I could of his expression. Jack avoided my glare for the time it took to cover my face once more, hiding my truth behind a wall of soiled fabric.

  Jack’s shoes scuffed along the floor as he left, the sound echoing for a few seconds in the distance while I listened for more sounds around me. I wanted to hear anything that might suggest I wasn’t alone. The pain from Malcolm pushing me to the floor built with Jack’s departure, erupting without control as I lost it all. Everything inside of me numbed, raw and exposed to the piece of Julian’s world from which he fought to protect me. Julian. The destructive feeling of his fingertips against my skin refused to calm me, my thoughts unable to focus or release. I wanted to hold onto him, to a memory to guide me through, but I faded like a dying fire.

  ***

  The burning pulse throbbing between us threatened to melt me as Julian balanced me against the side of my bed, while I slowly climbed to sit without removing my stare from his.

  “It’s only been two months, babby, but,” his breathing increased, “there is nothing I want more in this world than you.”

  We were still, caught by reality and its swirling passion as we held one another in a suspended limbo against the thin corner of my mattress. Julian lifted his right hand and his
gaze locked onto my eyes, his knuckles slowly stroked my cheekbone, and I felt my skin ignite.

  “Kiss me,” I breathed, locking my fingers around his right arm. Blue on blue, our eyes flickered between each other, both paralyzed and expectant with desire.

  His hand searched my skin, gliding beyond my ear to lock itself against the back of my head, my hair knotting around his fingers, while Julian slowly pressed himself further into the mattress. I felt a moan escape my mouth, heavy with need as our bodies met and Julian gently lowered me onto my bed.

  I lifted my hands to Julian’s stomach, coursing their way along his chest before adhering to the neglected stubble on his jaw. I let my fingernails scratch his cheeks as I pulled Julian closer. He hovered above me, his body radiating warmth with a longing that echoed my own. Julian’s elbows pressed into the mattress, imprisoning me perfectly beneath him.

  “In the entire world,” I whispered, my eyes flicking between Julian’s, “everything you could have—”

  “And you’re all I want, Aideen.”

  I greedily pulled Julian against me, slamming our faces together in a tortuously demanding kiss. He held my face, cupping my cheeks while letting me claim his mouth. It was intoxicating, the release he gave my heart and soul, and I was addicted.

  He could have anything in the world, and he wanted me. He desired me. He would keep me. He promised.

  I prayed. For the first time, I wished we were back in St. Mary’s together. The memory that scorched my emotions through a dream jarred me awake with hope that it hadn’t been a flashback, that I would be in Julian’s arms when my eyes opened.