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"What the feck…?” Callum says what I'm thinking as we come face to face with the source of the trouble.
"Jesus, Mary and Joseph," I curse, hastily stuffing my gun back into its holster as we witness Liam going head-to-head with a clawing, spitting Róisín.
"Goddammit, girl. You're not too old for a feckin' spanking," he mutters through clenched teeth as he tries his best to contain our sister while Emylyah and... fuck - Maricela - look on with slightly shell-shocked expressions on their faces.
So that’s what this is all about. My errant sister has obviously tried to spring my little captive.
"Róisín..." Maricela stretches out a tentative hand, which doesn't connect with anything. "Please, I'll just go back to my room."
Except she can't, of course, because one of our foot soldiers has her back clamped to his chest, his arms banded around her in a manner which is considerably over-friendly, and which he looks to be enjoying way too much if the way his forearm is purposely pushing her breasts up is anything to go by.
I feel a surge of anger and protective instinct wash over me as I witness the scene unfolding before my eyes. The audacity of one of our own touching Maricela in such a vulgar manner sends a surge of adrenaline through my veins.
When he sees us, the guy's eyes widen in surprise, his hold on Maricela loosening slightly as he takes a step back, assessing the threat we might pose. I’ve made it plain to all our men that Maricela is not to be touched. She might be our prisoner, but this guy knows he's disrespected our boundaries and his smirk fades as he realizes he's caught the attention of his two very angry bosses.
"Liam, let Róisín go. Thank you. We'll deal with her now," Callum commands, his voice carrying an authority that brooks no argument. Liam grumbles under his breath but complies with no small amount of relief evident on his craggy face as he releases Róisín from his grasp. She steps away from him, trembling and disheveled but still as mouthy as fuck.
Callum won’t tolerate it. He grabs our sister and swings her over his shoulder, before turning to a wide-eyed Emylyah. “I think it’s time for you to leave now, pet.”
He strides off with Róisín hammering her fists against his back and shrieking like a banshee. Emylyah looks a little concerned, so as I grip Maricela by her arm, I place a soothing hand on Lyah’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. You know Cal would never hurt her. But she can’t just run wild around the place.”
Emylyah gives a tight nod, her eyes cutting to Maricela like she’s wondering if the same applies, so I reassure her of that as well.
Once Lyah calls her driver and hurries away, I turn to look my little captive up and down. “So, what’s all this about then?” Considering she’s clothed and out of my suite, I have a pretty good idea, but I’d like to hear it from her lips.
“Umm… Róisín wanted to… Well, that is to say… umm…”
She trails off, and I’m pretty sure it’s because she doesn’t want to drop my sister in the shit. That wouldn’t happen, of course, but she doesn’t really know us, and my sister's voice is still echoing down the corridors as she screams bloody murder.
Maricela’s eyes dart back and forth between me and the noise. I know it sounds a whole lot worse than it really is, but a little fear never hurt anyone.
I keep a tight grip on her bicep as I frog-march her back to my suite. While I’m certain Róisín’s soft heart is in the right place with whatever cockamamy scheme she came up with, I sure as hell know better than to trust the woman I’ve kidnapped. I know damn well she’ll be looking for the closest escape route.
As we enter my suite, I lead her towards the leather sofa by the fireplace and release my grip on her arm, but not without a warning glance. I motion for her to sit on the couch, but she hesitates for a moment, her eyes darting around as if searching for an opportunity to flee, no doubt torn between her instinct to run and the knowledge that escape is futile in this heavily guarded compound.
I can't blame Maricela for being cautious; I am holding her against her will, after all, and she’s well aware she’s overstepped.
She just doesn’t know what the consequences might be.
I imagine if she’d pulled a stunt like this with Rossi, the repercussions would have been severe. It’s only logical that she’s anxious about what my own retribution might be.
"You may as well stand down," I say, my voice calm but firm. "There's no way out of here except through me."
Maricela's gaze flickers to mine, and I see a mixture of fear and defiance in her eyes. She takes a tentative step forward, as if testing the boundaries of her confinement. At that moment, the sound of Róisín's voice echoing down the halls grows fainter until it finally fades away completely.
"Sit," I command, my voice firm but tinged with a touch of amusement. The determined glint in my eyes must have convinced her because she hesitates for a moment, then complies with obvious reluctance, sinking into the cushions and crossing her arms over her chest.
"Now," I say firmly, taking a seat across from her. "Why don't you tell me what Róisín had in mind? And remember, lying won't do you any favors," I say, my voice low and dangerous. Maricela's gaze meets mine, and I can see the frustration lurking behind her eyes.
She fidgets with her hands, her gaze fixed on the floor. “There wasn't any nefarious plan or anything. She only wanted to give me some clothes and get me outside these four walls for a while. That's all, I swear. Everyone else blew it out of proportion."
I let out a sigh, trying to suppress my frustration. I’m pretty sure there’s more to it, especially since they managed to get out of this room against my express orders. But I don’t doubt my sister. She’s always thinking with her heart rather than her head. As much as I appreciate that her intentions were good, I can't allow Maricela to get away. And no matter what my little captive says, I know damn well she would have taken the first opportunity she found to escape, leaving my sweet, infuriating sister with the fallout. So, while I believe what she tells me about Róisín, the fact remains, I don’t trust Maricela. It’s as simple as that.
Chapter Twenty
MARICELA
“If that’s the case, then tell me how you managed to get past the guard,” Ciaran perseveres, pacing the floor in front of me like a caged tiger. “Because he was given strict orders that you weren’t allowed out of this room no matter what, and I doubt he would have reneged on nothing more than Róisín’s insistence. My sister doesn’t have that kind of authority.”
