Page 23 of Taken By the Mobster

The men in the room stared helplessly at one another, obviously unsure of what to do. Declan and Ezra appeared to be trying to help; he checked Drew’s wounds while Ezra frantically wiped away the copious amounts of blood smeared across Drew’s face.

Olivia took a deep breath and stepped into the room. Only one man noticed her and, of course, it was the one who hated her the most. Walsh pulled his gun from its holster and pointed it at her, an angry scowl on his face. Olivia flinched, but she stood her ground.

“What the hell are you doing down here?” Walsh demanded. The other men in the room turned to look at her.

Olivia ignored Walsh and the gun he had pointed at her face. She focused on Declan and his brother, pushed past the men surrounding them, and crouched between Declan and Ezra. She put a hand on Declan’s arm.

“I can help him,” she whispered, close to his ear.

“Wh-what?” Declan was confused and agitated. He blinked several times before he looked at Olivia, as if he’d never seen her before. “How can you help him?”

“I told you I was a nurse.” Olivia swallowed the lump of fear rising in her throat. “Remember how I said I went to nursing school and worked as a nurse for a year?” She glanced at the other men staring intently at her. Olivia didn’t know what these men knew about her and her past, so she was vague. “Before … before I met my husband.”

“Oh, for the love of Christ.” Walsh still had his gun out, though he’d lowered the weapon and held it at his side. Now, he stalked across the room, grabbed Olivia’s arm, and yanked her to her feet.

Something flickered in Declan’s eyes—anger and maybe hope. He straightened his shoulders and glared at Walsh. “Shut up, Walsh,” Declan snapped. “Put your damn gun away and let go of her.”

When Walsh hesitated, Declan jumped to his feet and grabbed the man’s wrist. His fingers trembled, but his voice was darkly threatening. “I said put it away and let her go. Now.”

Walsh yanked his arm free, released her, and glared at Declan and then Olivia. He huffed loudly and stalked away from the room. A few seconds later, a door at the back of the house slammed shut.

Declan turned to Olivia and pointed at the man on the sofa. “Help my brother.”

Drew muttered, “thank you,” to Olivia before he drifted off to sleep. She didn’t move, choosing to stay with him so she could watch over him. She also needed a minute to catch her breath.

Olivia hadn’t used her nursing skills since a year after college. After escaping the Muldoon compound, she decided it would be best if she didn’t work as a nurse. It would be too hard to keep her certificate current or even get credentials.

A quiet moan came from the man in the bed, pulling her from her thoughts. She got up to check on him, but he was asleep, out cold, thanks to the half-bottle of whiskey his brother forced down his throat; it was the only sedative available. Olivia brushed Drew’s long hair off his forehead, then she returned to her seat.

Drew’s appearance improved after they cleaned the blood off his face and stitched the cut above his eye. She still couldn’t believe she’d stitched him up cleanly; it had taken two shots of whiskey for her and Declan and Conor to hold Drew down while she worked. She’d bit her lip raw, and tears had run down her cheeks as Drew screamed and moaned while she worked. Intense relief flooded her when she finally dropped the needle on the table.

Declan helped her dress Drew’s ribs as he grumbled. Then they got him out of his soiled garments and into something clean. Afterward, Declan and Conor took Drew to a bedroom on the second floor.

Declan excused himself shortly after they got Drew settled, leaving Olivia to sit with Drew. She was relieved to see him go. He was a bundle of nerves: on edge, pacing and hovering, the anger rolling off him in waves. He tried to question Drew, ask him what happened, and how he’d gotten to Ezra’s, but Drew was too exhausted and in too much pain. When his brother couldn’t answer, a frustrated Declan walked out, slamming the door of the second-story bedroom shut behind himself.

Declan was gone two hours before he returned to the house. He stepped into the room with a determined look on his face, hat pulled down low over his eyes, coat buttoned to his chin, and an expensive bottle of whiskey clutched in one hand. He strode past Olivia and went directly to his brother. Without turning around, he spoke.

“You can go, Olivia. Thank you for your help.” His cold, distant voice scared her.

“It’s alright, I can stay with him,” she said. “I can stay with you.”

“I said you can go,” Declan repeated. “Conor is waiting in the hall to escort you to your room. Thank you for helping my brother.”

Olivia rose to her feet and moved to the bed to stand beside Declan. Her shoulder brushed his arm as she leaned around him to check on Drew. She adjusted one bandage and tucked his hair behind his ear.

She turned to Declan and put her hand on his arm. “Don’t shut me out, Declan. Let me help you.” She kissed his cheek and left.

Conor waited in the hall, just as Declan said he would be. He gestured for her to go in front of him and followed her up the stairs to the third floor. He stood aside as she stepped into the room, mumbled, “Good night,” then he closed the door behind her.

Olivia stood in the center of the room, tense and uncomfortable thanks to the anger and frustration rushing through her. She glanced at the clock on the bedside table: 2 a.m. Sleep was what she needed.

She went through the pile of clothes from Ezra, looking for something to wear to bed. The nightgown she found was pale pink, oversized, and looked like it belonged to her eighty-year-old grandmother. She tossed it aside, undressed, and slipped on the pale blue shirt Declan had given her.

Olivia climbed into bed and turned off the light. She thought she might have trouble falling asleep, but she’d barely pulled the blankets up to her chin before she dozed off.

Chapter 12

Declan

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