BRODIE
WHAT THE EVER LOVING FECK WASITHINKING?
The thought tumbled and spun on repeat as I drove northeast out of Virginia. From here it would be a straight shot north on 95 and then 81 until we got closer to the end of our journey. If no one figured out which way I was headed, then we should be fine until I was able to get us further away. I couldn’t help but worry, though. Boston was the epicenter of the East Coast Irish, and we’d be skirting dangerously close to Donegal’s area of influence.
It was a risk I’d have to take.
I made a call. “I need you to ready the cabin for two tenants. Me and a female. She’ll need clothing and appropriate toiletries. We’ll need the usual staples.”
“Arrival?”
“Tonight.”
“It’ll be ready. Be careful; weather’s getting shitty.”
With a grunt of thanks, I hung up.
You were supposed to kill the woman, not snatch her.
Again I cursed, accompanying the thought with a punch to the steering wheel. The horn gave a stunted honk, and I blew a hard breath through my nose, trying to rein in my temper. The woman in the car to my right gave me a curious glance through the window and I waved in acknowledgement before dropping back a few yards. Nothing to see here.
My phone was blowing up with texts and calls I didn’t answer. After a brief glance at the screen I tossed it in the cup holder.King.And Kael. I would need to speak to him sooner or later. He would likely be my only way out of this cluster fuck. No doubt Carson had called King to bitch after I’d ruined his attempt to kill Emery. I was surprised he’d gone for the car. Sure, it needed to look like an accident, but he preferred…other…methods.
What the hell were you thinking?The full might of the Irish fucking mob would be after me.
I couldn’t do it. I had been struggling with the assignment to begin with after learning the target was a woman, but now it was about Emery, plain and simple. Interfering with Carson’s hit hadn’t been a conscious decision in the beginning. I’d seen the car bearing down on her and reacted. Maybe part of it had simply been an instinct to preserve my hit.
She was my hit. Not his.
But thinking about it now, I knew it was instinct to preserveher. Emery.
And so I had swiftly changed my plan from killing her to abducting her. Taking her away until I could figure out what the hell I was feeling, and figure out what to do about it. Nothing had prepared me to see her hold that gun to her temple and practically beg me to end her life. Her eyes had stared dully into mine, the green-blue color like the Atlantic on an overcast day, choppy with unrest and full of hidden wreckage. I didn’t fail to see the irony, knew my actions would be my own shipwreck, and yet it made no difference.
I couldn’t kill her. Not without first plumbing the depths of the ocean that contained her secrets, discovering what made her gaze so dark and turbulent.
Fucking moron.It was obsession. Had to be. I hadn’t been this worked up over a girl since I learned Layla O’Conner would let me see her tits when I was eleven years old.
We were five hours down the interstate when I heard her stirring in the back. There was a rustle as she came slowly to consciousness and shifted. A low moan, which disturbingly sent the blood rushing straight to my dick. I ignored it and listened. There was a thump, as though a foot or knee had hit against the door, and then silence so absolute I knew she was simply there, frozen, listening for clues about the situation she found herself in.
“Emery, I know you’re awake,” I called to the back. “I’m sorry I had to truss you up like that. I’ll decide in a bit whether you’ll be bound for the duration of the trip, or if you can be trusted.”
There was nothing. No grunt, no moan, no kicking…anything. I felt silly. I was a fucking assassin, and she was my target. Why the hell did I feel the need to apologize to her? My voice harder, I continued. “I know you’re wondering why I took you. I’ll explain everything when we arrive at our destination, but for now, just relax. I’m not going to hurt you.”
She grunted, then levered herself up until I could see her head in the rearview. She was glaring viciously and with the tape over her mouth, she looked every bit the outraged prisoner. Fortunately, the windows were tinted so darkly no one could see her. Meeting my eyes in the mirror, she grunted out a series of vowel heavy sounds.
“You have to pee?” I guessed. She nodded frantically.
“We’ll be stopping soon,” I told her. “There’s a diner and truck stop up ahead. Lie down.” She didn’t move and I sharpened my voice. “Lie down or I’m not stopping.” Her eyes blistered me from a four foot distance, but she obeyed.
I parked around the side of the building, far enough away that I could control Emery’s exit from the vehicle, but close enough to be unremarkable. “All right, then. Here’s what’s going to happen. In a moment, I’m going to come around and use my knife to remove the tape. If you scream or attempt to draw attention to yourself in any way, I’ll have to use my knife in a more creative manner. Do you understand?” There was a muffled noise, which I took for assent. “When we go into the diner, you will act as if everything is perfectly normal. No speaking to anyone, no attempts to send a message or code or anything else. If you cannot agree to these things, you will remain in this vehicle. If you can agree, then we will have a nice meal and you can use the toilet instead of a bottle. Am I quite clear, then, love?”
“Mmpf.”
I climbed out the SUV into the cold, clean air, wishing I was driving my motorcycle. I hated the confines of a vehicle. I’d left it in Virginia, not wanting anyone to be able to identify it near the hotel after I did the job I was sent to do. After I took a cursory glance around, I walked to the back and opened the hatch. She stared up at me with a mutinous stare. “Now, now. You’ll need to be a better actress than that.” I pulled the tape from her mouth as gently as possible, following with a swift slice of the tape binding her wrists. She moaned and flexed her fingers, and I tugged her to a seated position by her bicep. “Got it?”
She nodded. “Fine. Yeah, I got it.” We set off for the front of the diner, my arm around her shoulders in a deceptively affectionate manner. I felt the tension in her frame, like she was just shy of bolting. My fingers squeezed a warning.
Inside the diner, a plastic sign on a stand directed us to “please seat yourselves.” We did so, sliding into a booth in the far corner near the restrooms. I ordered two teas from a bored waitress and then we both slid out to use the toilet. Emery hadn’t spoken a word yet, but her eyes were darting hungrily around the place, searching for a miracle.
