Page 29 of Twisted Obsession

“He’ll kill her,” I murmur, horrified at the thought of her being returned to this place, but Mika shows absolutely no sign of hearing me. But I can’t let it go. I’d stay with Dominic if it meant keeping Maricela safe… Janey Mack, I’d likely stay with him anyway. But poor Maricela….

“Please,” I whisper urgently, needing Mika to listen. “She’s been through so much horror at Vito’s hands. My brothers treated her better than her so-called fiancé. Please don’t let him hurt her.”

Mika says nothing, just opens the rear door and gestures for me to get in. But I turn to look at him again, my expression pleading. Then, before I slide onto the leather seat, he places a blindfold over my eyes and leans in. His voice is no more than a hushed breath of sound when he says, “I’ll do what I can.”

It’s the best I can hope for.

Out loud, Mika says, “Standard procedure," his tone neutral. "For your safety and ours."

I nod as he helps me into the vehicle, swallowing hard against the lump in my throat. The car starts moving, and I lean back, trying to steady my breathing. The darkness behind the blindfold is disorienting, and my mind races when I realize Mika didn’t get into the car with me. Instead, a hard hand lands high on my thigh, sending dread coursing through me, and an oily voice rasps in my ear. “What a pity I never got to finish what I started.”

I whimper, pathetically, at the sound of the Viper’s voice. Surely they haven’t left me alone with him?

Then there’s the sound of a throat being cleared and someone else moves in on the other side of me. He doesn’t touch me, but his presence thankfully has the Viper pulling away. Everything inside me eases, the fear and tension diminishing, because although I may not be able to see, I’d know Dominic’s scent, his presence, anywhere.

The journey seems to last forever. I lose all sense of direction as we drive, surprised at the distance, because I always assumed I’d been detained at the LCN compound in Little Italy, lower Manhattan, just a stone’s throw away from Ár n-áit in Hell’s Kitchen. The distance we drive suggests otherwise. I guess that’s why I’ve been blindfolded.

Without any other discourse, my mind races with questions. Where are they taking me? How far away is home? Will I ever see Dominic again? Will Maricela be okay? What does all this mean for the future of our two organizations?

There are no answers forthcoming.

Eventually, the car slows and comes to a stop. I hear muffled voices outside, then my door opens, and a hand reaches in to help me out of the vehicle.

Despite my brain attempting to take everything in, the thing I’m most conscious of is something small and flat being pressed into my palm. Paper if I’m not mistaken. Instinctively, I close my hand around it protectively, as my mind races.

Then I don’t have any more time to think, because the blindfold is removed, and the glare of the sun temporarily blinds me, causing me to wince and close my eyes until I’ve acclimatized.

After that, it’s all business. Dominic takes my arm, his fingers warm, but impersonal on my bicep. We’re in a deserted lot, with no familiar landmarks to hint at where we might be.

I recognize the armored van my brothers often use, but even its welcome, familiar sight doesn’t ease the tension that hangs thick in the air like a living, breathing entity.

All around us are Cosa Nostra soldiers, and even if my brother's vehicle is packed full—which I doubt is the case—they’d still outnumber us five to one. And the firepower they’re toting looks like they’re going into battle.

Janey feckin’ Mack, I can only pray to the mother of God we’ll get out of here alive, because the odds do not look good right now.

A quiver of fear, for myself, for my family, shudders through me, and Dominic must feel it, because his thumb, on the underside of my arm, brushes soothingly against my skin. It’s not much, but it calms me enough to stop me from disintegrating into ablubbering mess. No one needs that kind of distraction right now, and any unexpected move is likely to cause an incident, so I lock my knees and stoically put one foot in front of the other in what feels like the longest walk of my life.

From the opposite side of the lot, my brother, Ciaran, climbs from the van, helping Maricela out, while Callum remains inside. Both scrutinize me, undoubtedly searching for injuries and probably ready to do battle, laying down their lives in the process, if they find anything amiss.

I know then that my sass has to make an appearance. I don’t want to contemplate the consequences if they suspect anything is amiss. Especially not with the kind of odds they’re currently facing. It feels too much like an ambush.

“Well, you took your sweet time,” I tell Ciaran when he’s close enough to hear me, forcing a hint of belligerence into my voice. “I was beginning to think you didn’t want me back.”

“Feck!” Ciaran growls under his breath. “Can you not behave yourself for two minutes? I bet they couldn’t wait to get rid of you.”

He murmurs something to Maricela, who looks sadly resigned. The knowledge of what she’s returning to spears me in the chest, and I can’t hide the torment in my eyes when I look at her.

I send up a silent prayer. Please, God, let her be okay.

Then there’s no more time to think.

The exchange is made, me for Maricela, and the last exchange I have with Dominic is no more than an inconspicuous squeeze of my arm before he hands me over and takes Maricela in my place.

Ciaran wastes no time pulling me to him and hustling me into the back of the van none too ceremoniously, but I understand his concern.

Callum pulls me in and engulfs me in a bear hug, and I feel tears begin to prick my eyes, but I force them back, not wanting to freak my brothers out. Any breakdown can wait until we’re out of danger, and I have some privacy to fall apart.

Ciaran pulls the door closed behind us, and immediately the vehicle jerks forward, the wheels spinning and spitting gravel as our driver, Liam, puts his foot down to get us out of here.

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