Page 41 of Taken By the Mobster

“The Muldoon compound is a goddamn fortress,” Drew said.

“You got out,” Conor said.

Drew shook his head. “I did. Thanks to Ruth. We’re going to need her help.”

“She’ll get us in,” Declan said. “And we’ll get Olivia out. We’re going to Boston. But we’re not going to steal O’Reilly’s shipment. We’re going to get Liv out. I’m getting her back. Then I’m taking Clyde down, once and for all.”

Chapter 20

Olivia

Olivia woke up gradually. The sounds registered first: faint music coming from somewhere, the thump of tires on the pavement, the sound of other vehicles nearby. She opened her eyes, but she couldn’t see anything. It was too dark, no light visible at all. She tried to sit up, but she met resistance, something hard and metal inches from her face.

It came back to her in bits and pieces—a screaming tea kettle, a knitting needle, blood, Walsh, falling, then nothing.

Her head hurt. She found a lump on her temple above her left ear. Her fingers came away sticky and even though she couldn’t see it, she suspected it was blood. Hot tears burned her eyes. She held them back by sheer force of will.

Olivia took a deep breath, and the smell of exhaust filled her nostrils, gagging and choking her. She coughed, which made her head hurt even more. She realized she was in the trunk of a car, hurtling toward an unknown destination.

The darkness prevented her from seeing the time on her watch. It was unclear how long she was in the trunk of this car, ranging from minutes to hours. She didn’t know. Everything was a blur.

The car slowed, turned a corner, then sped up again. A few minutes later, it slowed again; she heard voices, and the sound of a gate rattling open.

Olivia closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. There was only one place they could be.

The Muldoon compound.

The car stopped, and the engine cut out. She expected someone to let her out immediately, but it seemed like forever before the trunk opened. Fresh air rushed in, and bright lights assaulted her. Olivia shielded her eyes with one hand and tried to sit up.

Staring down at her was that bastard Walsh. A blood-soaked bandage covered his arm where she’d stabbed him with the knitting needle. He grabbed her upper arm, dragged her roughly from the trunk, and set her on her bare feet on ice-cold asphalt. Olivia shivered.

“Let’s go.” Walsh held her arm and led her up a short set of stairs and inside the Muldoon mansion.

They stopped in the large foyer, right in front of Clyde Braniff. Olivia’s mouth went dry, and she thought she might faint.

“Olivia, how good of you to return home.” Clyde smiled, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Take her upstairs. Ruth is waiting. She’ll take Olivia to her room.”

“What do you want, Clyde?” Olivia asked.

“You know damn well what I want,” the mobster snapped. “Lucky for you, I have a meeting in downtown Boston, so we will have to discuss it later.” He jerked his chin toward the stairs. “Take her upstairs.”

Walsh gripped her arm tight and dragged her up the large stairs to the second floor. A gorgeous, petite woman with long, dark brown hair waited at the top. She smiled at Olivia.

“Hello, love. My name is Ruth.” She turned to Walsh. “Thank you, dear. I’ll take it from here.” Her Scottish accent was thick and lilting. She wiggled her fingers at him. “You can go.”

Walsh narrowed his eyes but did as he was told. Ruth pointed down the long, dimly lit hallway. “This way, please.”

Olivia knew where they were going; the Muldoon compound was huge, but she had lived there long enough to know the layout of the house. Ruth was taking her to her old room.

Sure enough, they stopped outside a closed door. Ruth opened the door, put her hand in the middle of Olivia’s back, and ushered her inside.

“Are you okay, dearie?” Ruth asked, as she closed the door.

Olivia shook her head. “No. My head hurts. I’m dizzy and nauseous. I most likely have a concussion.”

Ruth gave her an odd look.

“I was, uh, a nurse. In a former life.” She pushed a hand through her hair, crossed the room, and sat on the bed. “I also stink of grease, gasoline, and sweat. I could use a shower.”

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