Page 52 of Taken By the Mobster

Declan

It was every nightmare Declan ever had manifested right in front of him. Walsh sprawled Olivia out on the floor, her arms tied to the couch and her legs spread wide, tied to the coffee table. Walsh shoved the other furniture out of the way and forced Declan to sit on the other side of the room against the wall. He couldn’t move with his hands and feet tied, but he could see everything Walsh did to Olivia.

The first time Walsh hurt her, Declan closed his eyes, but then he heard a terrified, keening sound coming from Olivia. He opened his eyes to see Walsh dragging a knife from her inner thigh to her knee, blood trickling to the floor from the cut.

Walsh stalked across the room, punched him in the kidneys, then he grabbed Declan’s hair and forced him to look at Olivia.

“Keep your eyes open, Declan,” Walsh ordered. “You will watch every second of this. Clyde’s orders. If you turn away or close your eyes for even one second, I hurt you first, then I hurt her.”

“Let her go,” Declan snarled. “Let her go and I might let you live.”

Walsh laughed, the sound filling the room and echoing off the wall. Olivia stared at him as he returned to her side, her eyes wide and frightened. Blood ran down her leg, tears streaked her face, and her sobs filled the room.

Declan’s stomach clenched, and vomit rose in the back of his throat as the knife penetrated Olivia’s skin. He had promised to protect her and keep her safe. He failed her.

After a while, Olivia stopped screaming, her voice cutting off with a strangled cry. Only then did Walsh take a step back. Bruises bloomed all over Olivia’s body, blood dripped from the cuts he had inflicted, her eyes were closed, and her mouth slack. Walsh brushed a hand across his forehead, leaving a grotesque line of blood on his forehead. He turned to Declan.

“I think she needs a break, don’t you?” Walsh sneered, as he crouched in front of Declan with his arms resting on his knees. “I’m going to give her a chance to catch her breath. If I’m lucky, she’ll wake up. I like to see her pretty eyes when she’s begging me to stop.” He stood up, eyed Olivia up and down one more time, then he picked up a bottle of whiskey from the table and took a long drink. “I could use some sustenance too, you know? You stay right there, Deck. I’ll be back.” His laughter drifted back over his shoulder, as he walked down the hall toward the back of the house.

As soon as Walsh’s footsteps faded away, Declan rolled to his stomach and used his elbows to drag himself across the floor. He kept his eyes on Olivia as he moved.

Though she was on the verge of unconsciousness, she watched him with half-open eyes, glazed over in pain. Blood, tears, and snot covered her face and her chest heaved with the effort of breathing. Gore streaked her body, and blood and sweat matted her hair to her face.

“Declan, no,” she whispered, her words barely discernible. “He’ll kill you.”

He shook his head. If he didn’t do something, Olivia would die. There was no doubt in his mind that Walsh would kill Olivia and make Declan watch. Clyde knew it would destroy him, so Declan wasn’t about to let it happen.

He reached the sideboard on the other side of the room, pushed himself to his knees, and braced his bound hands against the wall. As he tried to stand up, he prayed Walsh wouldn’t hear a thing. He twisted awkwardly and leaned on the doorjamb with one shoulder. His feet slipped on the hardwood floor, so it took him a second to get his balance.

Once he had his feet under him, he slid open the drawer, pushed aside the linens inside, and searched until he found what he wanted. A sigh of relief escaped him as his fingers found the knife, one of many weapons hidden throughout the house. He pulled it free, but it fell from his hands. He dropped to one knee and caught it before it hit the floor. The sharp edge sliced two of his fingers, so his blood dripped onto the floor.

Declan glanced at Olivia, but her eyes were closed and her breathing so shallow he wasn’t even sure she was breathing. He couldn’t see her chest rising and falling. His heart stuttered in his chest.

“Olivia?” he whispered. “Liv, wake up, please. Stay with me.”

She didn’t move, not even a twitch.

Declan growled. He twisted the knife in his hand and sawed at the rope binding his wrists. Almost dropping the knife again, he bit his lip to suppress his cry as his fingers slipped on the blood-coated handle. He closed his eyes and listened intently for Walsh’s footsteps in the hallway. When he didn’t appear, Declan took a deep breath and concentrated. It only took a few more swipes of the knife before the rope fell to the floor. He sat down and cut his legs free, then he was back on his feet. He looked around the corner just in time to see Walsh’s back as he walked from the kitchen into the small bedroom Declan and Olivia shared.

Despite the horrific pain working its way through his bruised and battered body, Declan moved to Olivia’s side. As much as he wanted to kill Walsh, he had to make sure Olivia was alive. He patted her cheek gently, praying she would respond.

“Hey Liv, look at me, baby,” he whispered.

Olivia’s eyes fluttered. She opened them and focused on Declan.

“Hi, baby.” He kissed the corner of her mouth. “That’s my girl. I will be right back, okay? I promise.”

She shook her head and whispered, “No.”

Declan kissed her again, the coppery smell of her blood assaulting him. It fueled his anger. “I promise, Liv. I will be right back.”

In the same drawer as the knife, Declan had stashed a gun. He checked to make sure the gun was loaded, but before he could slip down the hall after Walsh, he heard a car pulling into the driveway. He glanced out the window to see the black SUV coming to a stop in front of the house.

“Shit,” Declan cursed under his breath.

Footsteps thundered through the house as Walsh ran down the hall, headed back to the living room, drawn by the sound of the car. Declan stepped back and hid in the shadows against the wall. When Walsh crossed the threshold into the room, Declan slashed out with the knife, nicking Walsh’s arm as he rushed past.

Walsh screamed, though Declan wasn’t sure if it was out of pain or anger. It didn’t matter either way because it slowed him down long enough for Declan to tackle him, taking his legs out from underneath him. They fell to the floor, both of them grunting and fighting for dominance. Walsh pushed Declan off him, knocking him back onto his ass, the gun and knife falling out of his hands.

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