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Silently, I wait as they walk away and Lola suggests we go find something for me to wear.
“I didn’t bring anything.”
“I’m sure there’s something here, even just a t-shirt and shorts.” She waits a beat before the men are out of earshot before she turns to say under her breath, “They’re going to have questions. Just answer as best you can, okay? I know this is hard.”
Nodding, I wait, my fingers knotted as these men decide my fate, my sister's fate. My father won’t get away with this. I hope my family has left to return home.
Ronan crosses straight to me and grips my chin, forcing our eyes to meet. “Who the fuck did this to you and don’t you dare leave any details out,” he demands. Connor stands a foot away, his hands rammed in his pockets, his tie now gone. I raise my eyes back to my husband, who looks physically disturbed, and his mouth has lost any warmth as it sits in a straight line.
“I never saw them. They wore a mask.”
Connor barks out a harsh laugh. “Another faceless enemy. What are the odds?”
Lola jumps to her feet, pointing a finger in his face. “That’s not fair and you goddamn know it!” Her face has lost as much colour as my own, but twin dots sit high on her cheekbones.
“You know I didn’t mean it like that.” Connor obstructs her as she tries to walk away.
“You know what, screw you. I’m trying!” she shouts tearfully.
Connor cups her face and crowds her. “I know.” His voice drops low. I look away, but there is something about the way he stares at her that has my stomach flutter with butterflies and my eyes seek their intimate moment. His thumb rubs her cheek, and when a tear falls, he kisses it away. “Blondie, there's no pressure. No more crying. You know it makes me want to hurt someone,” he teases gently.
“Maybe you should punch yourself in the mouth then, because it’s you.” Her tears turn to quiet laughter when he grins at her.
“Can’t stay mad at me, huh?”
“Anyone would think you’d hope to marry someone else?” Ronan’s tone drips with loathing. I jump and quickly shake my head. “No?”
“Are you sending me home?” I ask quietly as he steps to block his boss from my view.
Ronan leans to speak directly into my ear. “He’ll never look at you like he does her.”
“I don’t want him to.”
“Like I said before, you’re a shit liar,” my husband whispers. His accusation hangs heavily in the air.
Shaking my head, I look up at Ronan. “She’s why he left Gabriela?”
Jaw tightening, he ignores me. “Tell me about your scars.”
I lower my gaze, right to where his inked chest peeks from below his open shirt. I had no right to be so openly dismissive of his body when mine is battered by trauma.
“It happened several years ago. I was leaving a restaurant, and I was taken in broad daylight. Old van, no plates. They wore masks, and I was held for two days.”
“So, there was more than one person?” Connor appears, and I swallow loudly because talking about this is like swallowing all the blood I lost when I was abducted.
“A driver and a…the other one hurt me.”
“Keep going,” Ronan instructs, his tone cold.
“My father knows all the detai—”
“Keep. Going,” my husband spits. His lack of empathy pisses me off, so I square my chin and glare up at him, angry that I am married to this emotionless monster. “The details, Cara.”
“He cut into my back with a blunt knife over and over.”
Ronan’s jaw flexes. “Go on.”
“It was an abandoned warehouse. No one heard my screams. No one.” The sheer terror of being tortured cripples me, and I grip the counter for support.
