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Where was he taking me? Weren’t torture chambers usually in the basement?
The doors opened, revealing a dark, wood paneled corridor. Kiernan strode out of the elevator and into the quiet hallway. There wasn’t much I could see from where I was curled up against the mobster’s chest, the smell of vomit overpowering the woodsy scent of the man carrying me, but the interior seemed to have a proper order. The carpet beneath his feet stifled his booted steps. There were pictures hanging along one wall that looked well cared for and dust free. It was hard to tell from this distance, but they appeared to be family related.
There weren’t any windows, save one at each end of the hallway, but the hallway was lined with several doors. He stalked toward one end of the hall, stopping in front of the last door on the right. He didn’t let me go, instead clutching me tighter before reaching for the doorknob and pushing it open.
Kiernan didn’t stop at the doorway. He kicked the door shut with his foot and continued to carry me through the apartment-style suite toward a back room. I struggled against him as we approached the bedroom. The movement caused my head to spin and my stomach to churn sourly.
Kiernan didn’t loosen his grip, but he didn’t set me down in the bedroom either. He bypassed the room altogether and headed straight through another door and into an attached bathroom. His strong arms lowered me until my bare feet met the cold tile floor. My body wavered slightly before gaining its balance.
And the world spun again.
A little less than last time, but it was enough to still give me a headache.
He reached behind me and grabbed a small white bottle. Pulling two pills out, he handed them to me.
“For your headache. The doctor will be in a little later to check you out.”
What kind of kidnapper paid attention to their prisoner’s headaches and asked for a doctor if they were just going to kill them?
Irish ones, apparently. I stared at the white pills in his hand apprehensively, but the banging construction gnomes in my head were going full speed ahead. I took the pills and swallowed them down with a glass of water he tipped to my lips.
“Where are we?” I asked, my voice hoarse from screaming through the gag.
“Nowhere you need to worry about.” He stepped back, grabbing my bound hands in his, and worked the knot out. “I’m going to untie you. If you do anything other than what I say, I will punish you, and trust me, you won’t like that.”
Punish me?
Who the fuck said shit like that?
“Do you understand?” he growled at me, his fingers digging into the bones of my wrist.
“Yes,” I yelped and tried to peel my wrists from his grasp.
“The proper response from now on isyes, sir.”
Oh, come on. Now he really had to be shitting me. When I didn’t respond fast enough, he pinched the skin between my thumb and forefinger until I answered.
“Yes, sir,” I choked out. The pain was gone in an instant.
“Good girl.”
No. Bad vagina. Bad. That was not something it needed to be responding to.
Kiernan turned away from me, leaning into the shower, and turned on the spray. “Now strip.”
Oh, hell no.
“Strip,” he commanded again when I remained frozen.
“Excuse me?” I stared at him in disbelief. There was no way in hell I was going to be getting naked in front of this guy. Even if my pussy was throwing a party downtown right now. I’d only been completely bare in front of one person in my entire life and…ugh, fucking Drew.
“Strip, Bailey,” he growled as he began methodically removing his own clothes, his emerald eyes never leaving mine. “Or I’ll do it for you, and if I have to do it, I’m going to be expecting something for my troubles.”
A frisson of awareness tingled through me at the less than subtle sexual threat.Stupid whiskey.
“I…” My mouth gaped open like a fish out of water as I tried to conjure up an excuse. “I don’t need a shower. I’m good. Promise.”
Kiernan snorted.
