I go to the back door first. Locked, just like he said. And of course, when I rattle the handle, it doesn't budge.
The windows are small, deep-set in stone walls. I try to open one in the kitchen, but it won't move. I examine it more closely and see fresh screws in the frame.
He screwed them fucking shut.
The front door? Forget that. There's obviously something barricading it from the outside.
Think, Bianca. Think.
I go to the bedroom and look through the closet, finding nothing but a few clothes meant for me. The bathroom window is a tiny pane of frosted glass.
There has to be a way out.
Lancelot winds between my ankles. “You're no help.”
But as I sit there, my mind begins to work through the problem logically. He said he'd be gone two to three hours. Not much time, but it's something. He's thorough, yes, but he's not perfect. Is he?
I just have to find the weakness. The way out.
I stand up, square my shoulders, and start my search again, this time more carefully, knowing there's no rush. I can take my time.
Because I'm not staying here.
When he comes back, he's going to realize that I'm not his to keep.
Chapter Eleven
Ashland
Normally,I like my cousin's house. The McCarthy family mansion sits, formidable and majestic, behind wrought iron gates in Ballyhock, just outside of Dublin. And goddamn, I miss my brother Lorcan. We were always tight, but even more so now that Donovan’s gone. And I hate keeping anything from him.
But today, all I can think about is Bianca, alone and probably frightened.
Definitely trying to escape.
Lorcan grins and hugs me when I arrive, then leans in and slaps my back hard. I hug him back. We were never much for hugging before Donovan’s death. The loss of an anchor in your life changes things.
“Missed you, brother,” he says before we head to the office.
The conference room at Seamus's reeks of old leather and even older money. I sit in my chair, arms crossed, while Seamus holds court at the head of the table, like the king he is. My da sits to his right, his hair silvery blond in the overhead light, and Lorcan flanks me on the other side. His eyes flick to the empty chair to my left, where my brother Donovan once sat.
I check my phone under the table so Seamus doesn't lose his shite. The cabin security feed loads, slow as molasses.
Kitchen, empty. Living room, empty. Bedroom, empty.
Fuck.
I look up to see Seamus watching me with sharp eyes. My cousin is loyal to his core and a good man to me, but they don't call him The Undertaker for nothing.
“You with us, lad?”
I slide the phone into my pocket, but my hand stays there, my thumb hovering over the screen. “Just distracted.”
Seamus leans back, his fingers steepled. “Distracted by what, exactly?”
I shrug and let him wonder. Cavin snorts across the table, and I shoot him a look that shuts him up quick. My younger cousin's happy he's not the arsehole under his brother's scrutiny for once.
When I don't answer, Seamus takes another tactic. “When's your next fight, lad?”
