“I took you because you were easier to get to and you’re good enough leverage to get what we want.”
“Which is?”
“The locations of every missing woman he’s taken and to stop doing any business on our turf.”
“Because it’s cutting into your profits?” she sneered.
“Because it’s harming innocent people.”
“You’d never do that, though, right? As a woman you tossed into the back of a van and now have tied to a chair in a dirty warehouse, I’d beg to differ.”
“Then you’d be wrong.”
“What will you do when he comes for me? Will you kill him? Will you kill us?”
“We’ll see what happens when that time comes. It’s in his hands.”
“Right,” she snarled.
Fergus had heard enough from her. He wasn’t sure if she believed him or if she cared about what he had told her. For all he knew, she was as cold as the man she’d been about to marry. He was done talking to her, though, that much he knew. He picked up the duct tape and the bag, heading back toward her with it.
“No. Please. I’ll be quiet. Don’t put that back on me.”
Fergus looked at her, considering it for a moment, then slapped a strip of the duct tape over her mouth and pulled the bag down over her angry face before walking outside to get a breath of fresh air.CHAPTER SIXEimear
Eimear sat in the darkness, her anger slowly fading away into hopelessness. Was it possible that what he said could be true? Was Ciaron really capable of doing those things or ordering them done? Could he be leading such a double life without her knowing anything about it?
The answer was yes. It was hard for her to believe, but he was adamant about her staying away from his business affairs. She knew next to nothing about them and he never talked about the work he did, which she’d always thought unusual. Didn’t most men share their work woes with their partners? Perhaps not the intricate details, but the simple day to day frustrations of it—especially when their soon-to-be wife had previously worked in the same business arena?
When the hood was removed a short time later, she was relieved to see that it wasn’t the man who had introduced himself as “Fergus,” if that was even his real name. Instead, she found herself looking at a man who looked somewhat like him, but with lighter colored hair and complexion. It was her guess that they were related, perhaps even brothers.
“I brought you some food,” he said.
Eimear just looked at him. How did he think she was going to eat with her hands tied down to the arms of the chair? He seemed to pick up on this fact pretty quick, so at least he wasn’t thick-headed.
“Right. I’m going to untie your hands, but if you make a move beyond just eating your food, you’ll regret it,” he said dryly.
He was a real charmer. The Irish accent was much like that of the other one, and he was equally as gruff, so she was certain they were from the same family now. He untied her hands and pulled the tape from her mouth, leaving her lips stinging. She winced but refused to cry out.
“Here,” he said, sitting a paper bag in her lap and moving away to sit within reach of her, presumably preparation for any attempt she might make to escape her bindings, which still included her feet and waist being secured to the chair.
“I have to go to the bathroom, too,” she said.
“So, go. I’ve got a mop,” he told her.
“That’s lovely,” she snapped.
“I’m sure it’s an improvement over how your future husband has treated the women he and his men are snatching up off our turf. Spare me the delicate routine. We’ve been looking into you a bit more since you got here, something we didn’t have a chance to do before we snapped you up. You’re a Dorchester sewer rat, a piece of trash from the wrong side of town who somehow managed to drag herself over the tracks and pass for a lady.”
“Not everyone born in Dorchester is trash,” she protested, taking a bite of the burger. It was half cold, but still delicious. She hadn’t realized how hungry she was until now.
“No, not everyone is, but you are. Drunk father, crack-addict mother. A brother, dead before twenty from the needle. A sister in school on scholarship, same as you were. You managed to get a scholarship to a fancy school and climb out of the sewer your kind is born in. Must have had to open your legs quite a bit before you finally snagged a rich guy to take care of you.”
“You’re a bastard,” she yelled at him, tempted to throw the burger but too hungry to part with it.
“Nah. I know who my dad is. Yours is questionable, from what I hear.”