Page 19 of Taken By the Mobster

It was another bedroom, bigger than the one that had held her for the last week. There were more furnishings—a dresser, two bedside tables, a comfortable-looking chair, and, of course, the bed. But it was still nothing more than another locked room.

Declan’s words echoed in her head. Someplace to stash her. When had her life become one of those parody-worthy soap operas? She pulled the quilt tighter around herself and gnawed at the inside of her cheek, determined not to cry. She took a tentative step into the room.

Out of nowhere, Ezra shoved Olivia, causing her feet to tangle, so she stumbled and fell to her knees just inside the room. Olivia dragged herself upright and glared over her shoulder at the woman in the doorway.

Ezra didn’t offer an apology. She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at Olivia. “Are you fucking Declan or something? Or maybe Conor?” Her bitterness suggested she might have been jealous at the thought. “Or is it both? Is that it? You’re fucking both of them?”

“No,” Olivia snapped. “What kind of question is that? Do I look like I want to be here? Do you think I’m here of my accord, dressed in ill-fitting clothes that obviously aren’t mine, hair a tangled mess, and blood dripping from my foot?” She dragged in a shaky breath. “Declan took me against my will, and now he’s dragging me around, locking me up, and not telling me what he’s going to do with me. I don’t know from day to day if I’m going to live or die.”

Ezra shrugged. “I figured you must be giving it up, or Declan would have offed you by now.”

Anger flooded her. She rose to her feet, ignoring the pain in her heel. “Do you know who I am?” she asked.

“I don’t care who you are,” Ezra replied. “You are baggage. Dead weight. If you’re not useful to Declan, he won’t keep you around much longer. He doesn’t have a reputation for being merciful. I’m sure you’ve heard the stories. Declan Quinn leaves death in his wake.”

“You’re not afraid of him,” Olivia said.

“No, I’m not. But I’m useful to him.” Ezra looked Olivia up and down. “I’ll bring you some clothes.” She pulled the door closed behind her and locked it.

As soon as the door shut, Olivia dropped the quilt to the floor and kicked it, an odd sense of satisfaction filling her when it crumpled against the wall. She stared at it for a long minute, then she limped across the room, picked it up, folded it, and laid it on the end of the bed.

After she was done, she shucked off the sweatpants, sat on the edge of the chair, and pulled her foot into her lap. There was a one inch cut on her heel with blood and dirt caked around it. She examined it, prodding at the skin around the cut. She didn’t think she needed stitches, but it needed to be cleaned.

Olivia leaned her head against the back of the chair. Exhaustion wormed its way through every nerve ending. She looked out the window at the full moon. For the hundredth time in the last week, she tried to come up with a way out of her situation, but nothing came to mind.

It was time to talk to Declan; this couldn’t go on any longer. Something had to give.

Chapter 10

Declan

Declan had just finished helping Conor get the car unloaded and into the garage when Walsh and Murphy arrived. They quickly unloaded the SUV, pulled it into the backyard, and threw a tarp over it. Once they were done, he crossed the yard and went through the back door into the kitchen. He slipped off his coat and dropped it on the back of a chair. After washing and drying his hands, he moved away as his men descended on the kitchen. He tossed the towel to Conor, who caught it deftly with one hand.

“You got a minute?” Declan asked Conor.

Conor nodded and followed Declan back through the house to the room Ezra called the library. He gestured to Conor to close the pocket doors while he poured two glasses of scotch. Once the doors were closed, he handed the drink to Conor.

“Did you talk to her?” Declan asked quietly.

Conor nodded. “She’s in. According to her, Drew is being held by Clyde at the Muldoon compound. She thinks she can either get us in or maybe get him out. Either way, she’ll do whatever we need.” He took a sip of the scotch and cleared his throat. “Maybe we could talk to Olivia. She lived at the compound, Deck. She’s familiar with the place. It’s worth considering that she could be helpful to us.”

Declan shook his head. “I don’t want to put her in any more danger—.”

“But you’re okay with Ruthie putting herself in danger?” Conor snapped.

Declan sighed. “I didn’t say that.”

“It’s implied.”

Ruth Fraiser lived at the Muldoon compound, running the household. What Donovan Muldoon didn’t know was that Ruth despised him and did everything she could to undermine him. Declan had been working with her for months, trying to get his brother out.

“Do me a favor and tell Ruthie to be careful. And that I said thank you,” Declan said. “I know she’s putting herself at risk, but the sooner we can get Drew out of that place, the sooner we can take off. You know as well as I do we can’t hide here forever. It’s not going to be long before Clyde wants to send us out on another job. I can only stall him for so long. And if Walsh talks to him—.”

“We’re done for,” Conor finished. “Have you come up with an excuse to get rid of Walsh and Murph?”

“I think so,” Declan said. “I’m going to send them to Ohio to scout the next job. By the time they figure out we aren’t meeting up with them, we’ll be long gone.”

“So, we’re gonna move fast,” Conor said. “Get rid of Walsh and Murph, move in and get Drew, and disappear?”

---