AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Cassidy
Consciousnessdidn’trushinas much as it slowly meandered back, returning lazily but with an underlying current of urgency I didn’t quite understand. Wake up, it whispered, but that was exactly the opposite of what I wanted to do. I felt terrible. My head was pounding, and when I dared to open my eyes, the room was over-bright and spun sickeningly.
Oddly enough, my first thought was that I was back in college. Surely I had to be, because I hadn’t felt this hungover since then.
Dear Christ, what the hell did I do last night?
One thing was for sure—I wasn’t in the penthouse. The sheets were scratchy, and the room smelled stale and sour and faintly of disinfectant. It made me want to throw up. Groaning, I started to raise my hand to my face, but it stopped with a jerk.
My eyes snapped open.
There was a handcuff around my wrist, the other end trailing over the side of the bed. For a moment I just stared at it stupidly. It caught the light, glinting sinisterly as I struggled to process what I was seeing.
I tugged on it. Slowly at first, then faster and with a rising sense of horror, as if it would just magically disappear if I pulled on it hard enough. Someone had handcuffed me to a bed in a strange room, and I couldn’t remember how or why—wait.
Teagan Kelly.
Those dark, cold, eyes. A predator's eyes. Stale cigarette's and a tattoo on his wrist. A blade to my throat, the stinging pinch as the syringe emptied its icy contents into my veins. Harsh, eager breathing as my vision faded.
He was the mole Connor had been searching for. Teagan had been betraying us, this entire time.
"What the fuck were you thinking?" I could hear voices beyond the door, muffled and faint. I recognized Teagan's voice, but I didn't know who the other man was.
"She recognized my tat."
"You got sloppy, Kelly. Do you realize how much shit we're in? Kidnapping the wife of a fucking McTiernan Clan warlord?"
"She was already a liability, Mr. Moretti. Both of them are."
"The only reason I humored your hair-brained scheme was because your sister married my little brother." The other speaker sighed. "I have already begun to rectify this little oversight of yours. Make it count."
A harsh thud and a groan, like someone had been hit. Teagan's voice was strained, like he was speaking through his teeth. "Yes, Mr. Moretti."
I felt the first ragged gasp leave my lips, high and strained in my ears. I tried to sit up, but I’d barely managed to slide my elbow underneath my body before I was pulled back down to the bed by the handcuff around my other wrist.
No, no, no, no—
Something inside me broke. Frantically, I tugged on the restraints, screaming. Bruises bloomed and broke beneath the skin. The bed creaked and groaned as I mindlessly struggled, heedless of the way the cuffs tore at my wrists as I yanked on them.
Off, off, get them off—Connor help me! Please!
I thrashed against the bed until I felt a sharp pain in my left arm as something shifted wrongly. That only spurred me on, a new wave of terror washing over me as I struggled even harder against the restraints. Teagan had cuffed me to a bed, which meant he was coming back, and the thought of what he was going to do sent a new thrill of terror coursing through me.
I screamed for help. As loud as I could, until my throat felt raw. Surely someone had to hear me, right? I was still in the city. Someone had to be close, someone had to hear me…right?
But I wasn’t quite sure what time it was, or even what day. Even worse, I had no idea where I was.
“My God—all that racket! You’d think I’ve got a wildcat chained up down here instead of a pretty little goody-two-shoes like you.”
Instantly, I froze. Teagan was leaned up against the doorframe, smirking at me in amusement.
“But just look at you. Hair all messed and screaming so prettily for me. And I haven’t even done anything yet.” He lazily pushed off the doorframe and grabbed a chair from the corner, flipping it around and resting his arms on the back as he sat. I could now see the tattoo on his wrist, a grey-green inking of a phoenix rising from the flames. A common tat for the IRA.
The air was heavy with tension. Teagan looked at me, slowly letting his eyes travel down my body.
I felt naked under his gaze. Raw and horribly exposed.
His eyes lingered on the cuffs, on the bruises that had been raised there and the ragged, torn flesh from where I’d struggled against them. Then down my face, over my heaving chest and then lower, his lips tugging into a faint smile as I shuddered and squeezed my legs together.
