Page 14 of Taken By the Mobster

“Yes, I know who you are.” Declan scrubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “Liv O’Reilly. I figured it out two days ago.”

“Do you … do you remember me?” she asked. “Do you remember how close we were?”

Declan nodded, and his face softened. “Of course, I remember. How could I forget you? You were my entire world. I loved you.”

“Don’t say that,” Olivia whispered.

“Why not? It’s true. I would have gone to the ends of the earth for you. I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you,” Declan said.

“My father never would have let it happen,” Olivia said. “He thought you were a bad influence, and you ran with the Muldoons.”

“But it was okay for him to marry you off to one of them?” Declan muttered.

Olivia laughed, the sound hollow and fake in her ears. The irony wasn’t lost on her. None of it. “I never wanted that. Never.”

Declan snorted. “So what? You were following instructions?”

Olivia wasn’t going to explain her life and her pain to a man she hadn’t seen for eight years, a man who had kidnapped her and was holding her hostage. “So, now what happens? You hand me over to Clyde? Maybe he’ll give you your brother back for me.”

“Don’t think I haven’t thought about it,” Declan snapped.

Olivia’s pulse raced, the desire to run so strong the muscles in her thighs twitched. “Is that what you’re waiting for? The chance to hand me over to Clyde?”

Declan shook his head and sighed. “I know what happens if I give you to Clyde. I know what kind of person he is.”

Olivia muttered, “I don’t think you know everything.”

Declan rose to his full height in confidence. “I know exactly what Clyde Braniff does to people who wrong him. You were supposed to marry him. But you embarrassed him by disappearing with one of your bodyguards and stealing his money. If Clyde gets his hands on you, it will not go well for you.”

Declan moved closer, hovering over her where she leaned against the wall, a menacing, evil look on his face, his voice thick with emotion. “He will rape you, torture you, humiliate you, and degrade you. He will do such unimaginable things to you that you will wish I had killed you. Clyde will do it repeatedly until there is nothing left of your mind, until you are completely gone. Then he will kill you. But it won’t be a quick death. Oh no, Clyde will draw it out so you feel you died a thousand times over. Then, and only then, will he let you die. Clyde won’t just kill you, Liv; he will destroy you. And he will enjoy it.” He exhaled a long, shaky breath.

Declan was so close, her breasts brushed against his chest as she sucked in a ragged breath. The smell of coffee and cigarettes surrounded her, and heat radiated from him. Olivia stared into his eyes.

“What happened to you, Declan?” she whispered. “What changed you into this … this monster?”

Declan swallowed, his throat clicking. “Clyde killed my sister.”

Olivia’s heart twisted, and she gasped. She reached for Declan, but he took a step back, cleared his throat, and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“I’ll give you an hour to get cleaned up.” He spun around, grabbed his coat from the rack in the corner, and put it on as he yanked open the door and stepped outside.

Olivia watched Declan through the thin curtain covering the window. He leaned against the post on the porch with an unlit cigarette in his mouth and stared off into space. She glanced down the hallway toward the open bathroom door. She took one last look at the silhouette of her captor before she trudged down the hall to the bathroom.

Olivia locked the door behind herself. She immediately stripped out of her filthy clothes and tossed them in the sink. Her first instinct was to take a shower, make it as quick as possible, but Declan had given her an hour. If she took a bath, she could stretch it out, take advantage of every minute. Decision made, she turned on the water in the bathtub, running it as hot as she could handle.

As the tub filled, she washed her clothes in the sink, briskly rubbing them with the bar of soap she found on the edge of the tub. She didn’t know what she was going to wear, but she couldn’t stand another minute in the filthy garments. Once she had them as clean as she could get them with a bar of soap, she wrung them out and laid them out on the bathroom counter to dry.

When the tub was full, she eased into the hot water, hissing as her cold skin met the steaming water. She used the soap and a clean washcloth from under the sink to wash her body, then she scrubbed her greasy hair with the cheap shampoo she found. Once she was clean, she pulled her knees up to her chest, rested her forehead on them, and tried to relax.

Olivia couldn’t stop thinking about what Declan said. She replayed the conversation in her head, picturing his face and the sound of his voice. In hindsight, she realized what had seemed menacing and evil was actually Declan’s grief manifesting itself. She had felt a powerful urge to wrap her arms around him, hold him, and comfort him. They shared a common enemy; it was natural to want to comfort him.

Olivia shook herself free of those thoughts, refusing to acknowledge their existence. She refused to feel sorry for the man who held her hostage, despite their shared enemy and their shared romantic past.

She couldn’t help but wonder if it was grief that had turned him, if it had changed him into the man he was now. Grief hardened a person, destroyed everything good about them. The Declan she remembered had been fun, crazy, a kid who lived on the edge and loved it. Nothing ever fazed him or bothered him. But she could see pain killing the man she had known.

Olivia had experienced that kind of pain while living with the Muldoons. She had to claw her way back from the edge and fought against it every day.

The water cooled, causing goosebumps to rise on her skin. She squeezed the water from her hair, stepped out of the tub, and dried herself off as best she could. She secured the towel around her body, tucked the corner in between her breasts, and stepped out of the bathroom. Not finding Declan at first glance, she quickly snatched her dripping clothes, plus a spare towel, and then scurried to the bedroom that held her captive. She kept her eyes on the floor, intent on getting to the room.

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