save face.
Then…oh god.
Then he’ll have me.
And there’s no way in hell he’ll ever let me go again.
I’ll be locked up. Locked down. Forced to live as a captive. He might even send me away to Italy. To live with the Sicilian side of the family, far out of reach of his enemies in New York.
I’ll be married off to one of my brutal, hairy cousins. I’ll be forced to have sex with him. Have his children. Cook his meals. Scrub his toilet.
Inhale for four counts. Hold it for four counts. Exhale for four counts. Hold it for four counts. Start over again.
I can’t let myself despair. I have to remain positive. Remain calm. Take things one minute at a time. Stay alert and non-combative. Stay alive.
And, no matter what, I can’t let myself think about Killian.
I can’t think about his beautiful dark eyes and his heartbreaking smile. I can’t think about how his voice grows husky when he wants me. I can’t think about how he touches me, or how he kisses me, or his incredibly intoxicating combination of masculinity and tenderness. How gentle he is when we make love. How passionately he fucks me.
How he has an identical twin brother.
I definitely can’t think about that, even if I wanted to, because my brain keeps bouncing off the possibilities. The impossibilities.
The total insanity of what two of them could mean.
What they could do.
Who they could really be.
Or what.
The car pulls to a stop. Doors open and slam closed. Heavy footsteps crunch on gravel. The trunk lid opens, and a rush of cool night air blows in. A male voice addresses me in a heavy Eastern European accent.
“Rule number one: be good or I cut something off.”
His tone is businesslike. Almost bored. This is the kind of threat he makes regularly. Makes and follows through on.
My heart palpitating, I say, “I’ll be good.”
I hate myself that it comes out in a whisper.
He grunts his approval. Grabbing me by the upper arm, he hauls me to a sitting position, then roughly up and over the lip of the trunk. My ankles are tied, so I almost fall forward onto my face when my feet hit the ground, but he yanks me upright and steadies me. Sharp, icy gravel cuts into the soles of my bare feet.
He picks me up and throws me over his shoulder.
Though I can’t see him through the hood, I can tell he’s big. Strong, too. This is no mastermind. No strategist. This is the guy the higher-ups send when they need serious muscle. His arm around my thighs is as hard as steel. He’s got an easy, loping walk, like my weight on his shoulder is completely insubstantial.
He’s probably used to carrying weight like this a lot.
Dead weight.
Inhale for four counts. Hold it for four counts. Exhale for four counts. Hold it for four counts. Start over again.
We go up steps. His boots make a different sound on wood than they do on gravel. A heavy, hollow sound. He stops for a moment. I hear a metallic clang, then the complaining creak of unoiled hinges. Then it sounds like a large door is being pulled open—no, rolled open from one side.
The pungent, distinct scent of horses and damp hay hits my nose, followed by the fainter scent of fresh water.
We must be in the country. There are no sounds other than the gentle chirping of crickets and tree leaves rustling in the cool breeze. I probably have been unconscious for a long time. I’m far away from the city.
If anyone’s looking, they’ll never find me.
Inhale for four counts. Hold it for four counts. Exhale for four counts. Hold it for four counts. Start over again.
My captor starts walking again. He changes directions a few times, disorienting me. The building we’re in must be large because we walk for quite a while until we stop.
We abruptly begin to descend.
When the elevator lurches downward with a loud creak, I suck in a startled breath.
“Rule number two: be silent unless you’re told to speak.”
I bite my lower lip and swallow the scream clawing its way up my throat.
When the elevator stops, the air is warm and stale. I smell cigarette smoke and the low drone of a radio tuned to a talk channel. There’s a burst of electronic noise, then a voice crackles over a ham radio.
The voice doesn’t speak in English, so I can’t understand what it says.
I’m flipped upright and deposited onto a hard metal chair. The hood vanishes.