Page 51 of Taken By the Mobster

Please let it be over soon.

Olivia lay sprawled across the bed, with Declan’s head on her stomach. His finger traced circles on her inner thigh and every few minutes, he would turn his head and press a kiss to her hip, humming contentedly in the back of his throat.

She brushed her fingers through his hair and smiled to herself. It was nice to have some time alone with him. They had been staying at the rental property in Wakefield for a week, all four of them—her, Declan, Drew, and Conor—constantly bumping into each other. On the seventh day they were there, Drew and Conor left them alone for the evening. They hadn’t said where they were going, but they’d vowed to stay gone for hours.

“I’m starving,” she mumbled. Olivia pushed herself out from underneath Declan, giggling when he tried to keep her on the bed. She grabbed his shirt from the floor and pulled it on.

“I need to get some clothes,” she said. “I’m getting fed up with wearing the same thing day after day.”

“Come back to bed,” said Declan. He scrambled to his feet, pulled her into his arms, and nuzzled her neck with his nose.

Olivia stepped out of his arms with a sigh. “I am hungry. Come with me. I think I saw some leftover pie.” She took his hand and tried to drag him with her.

Declan laughed and pointed at his naked body. “I need pants. I’ll be right there.”

Olivia was cutting the pie and putting it on plates by the time Declan emerged from the bedroom. True to his word, he had put on pants and a red T-shirt. He came up behind her, rested his hands on her waist, and kissed her neck. She relaxed against him, her eyes slipping closed as she let herself get lost in the feel of Declan touching her and kissing her.

Declan’s hands painfully clamped down on her waist, and the kiss abruptly ended as his lips flattened into a thin line.

“Do not move, and do not make a sound.”

Her entire body went stiff, and her hands shook at the sound of Walsh’s voice. She pressed a hand to her lips to stifle the scream rising in her throat.

“Turn around, Olivia,” Walsh said. “Nice and slow.”

Declan took a step back, and Olivia turned with the knife covered in pie remnants still clutched in her hand.

Walsh stared at her over Declan’s shoulder, with his gun pointed at the back of Declan’s head.

“Drop the knife on the counter,” Walsh ordered. “Do it now or I will shoot him. I don’t think you want his brains splattered across your face.”

Olivia swallowed, the taste in her mouth coppery and thick. “N-no,” she stuttered. “Pl-please don’t.” She dropped the knife on the counter and held up her hands.

Walsh brought the gun down hard on the back of Declan’s head. He slumped to the floor at her feet. Before she could move, Walsh’s hand was on her throat, cutting off her scream, along with her airway. Her mouth dropped open as she tried to drag in a breath. She clawed at Walsh’s hands.

A smile spread across Walsh’s face. “Save your screams for later, honey,” he whispered. “You’ll need them.”

Olivia didn’t want to scream; she didn’t want to cry, but the pain was worse than any she had ever experienced. Walsh started with slaps and punches all over her body, laughing every time his fist connected with any part of her. She struggled to get away, but the ropes tying her to the furniture in the small front living room were too tight. Fighting against the bindings only made them tighter.

She opened her eyes. Declan sat against the wall on the other side of the room, forced to watch everything Walsh did to her. He was the reason she didn’t want to scream; the agony on Declan’s face terrified her. Maybe if she didn’t scream, it wouldn’t be so bad.

Walsh slapped her so hard, her face bounced against the hardwood floors and tears leaked from her eyes. Declan grunted and closed his eyes. That was when Walsh took out the knife and dragged it down her leg, from her inner thigh to her knee, a shallow but painful cut. She couldn’t help it; a high-pitched, keening sound erupted from her.

Declan’s eyes shot open. Walsh darted across the room and punched Declan in the kidneys. Then he grabbed Declan’s hair and forced him to look at Olivia. He mumbled something Olivia couldn’t hear, something that made Declan look ready to kill.

“Let her go,” she heard Declan say. “Let her go, and I might let you live.”

Walsh laughed and returned to Olivia’s side. He took the knife out and went to work. He knew what he was doing. Each cut was deep enough to hurt, yet shallow enough to keep the blood loss to a minimum. He intended to kill her slowly. She screamed each time the knife penetrated her skin, and the blood oozed from the cut. Just when she thought she couldn’t take another second of the pain, Walsh would stop, long enough for her to catch her breath. Then it would start again.

The coppery scent of her own blood filled her nostrils, and her screams echoed in her head. Blackness overtook her vision. She didn’t fight it.

The next time she opened her eyes, Declan was on the floor, crawling across the room in some kind of bizarre army crawl. Her heart pounded.

“Declan, no, he’ll kill you,” she mumbled.

Declan ignored her and continued across the room. He was going toward the sideboard by the wall where he had stashed weapons. She dragged in a deep breath, but the effort was too much for her. Olivia closed her eyes and let the darkness take her.

Chapter 24

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