Page 1 of If Tomorrow Never Comes

The Kennedy brothers are desperate to get their women back after being captured the night of Madison’s graduation dinner.

With the help of their connections in Miami, they track their captors down.

But that’s the easy part.

Getting them back is becoming more and more challenging as secrets begin to rise to the surface.

Tension builds between the brothers. Liam finds himself arguing with Killian over just about everything—especially when it comes down to Madison.

Meanwhile, Killian faces an impossible decision. A decision that leaves Madison’s fate dangling in the hands of theBone Breaker.

A man so feared he has the criminal underworld speaking in whispers.

He is lethal.

He is calculated.

And he takes what he wants.

Except the one thing he wants—he can’t have.

Madison.

A persistent buzzingradiates throughout my skull.Over and over and over again. It's a unique melody, horrendous and torturous. At this point, I can’t be sure of its origin. Pain and dehydration? The obnoxious flickering of the fluorescent lights? Caffeine and nicotine withdrawal?

Or maybe it’s my lovely cell mates—the flies and mosquitoes.

Welts and bruises scatter my body so extensively that with one look, you’d think I came down with the plague.

Heavy, languid footsteps approach my door, encouraging my heart to thrash against my bruised rib cage. That nightmarish sound can only indicate two things—pain or food.Sometimes both.

The sound of my racing pulse whooshing in my ears temporarily replaces the buzzing. I can’t tell which I prefer:

Whooshing or buzzing?

Buzzing or whooshing?

“Haha,” I laugh out loud to myself. My hand slaps across my mouth as another hysterical giggle rises and bubbles in my throat, threatening to slip out. A testament to my slipping sanity.

How is this my life right now?You just had to fall in love with—not one—but two mobsters, didn’t you? Didn’t you, Maddy? God.Even my mind is turning against me.

“I thought we were supposed to be friends,bitch,”Iretort,the words just a whisper as they leave my mouth.

Just like my poor lips, I’m starting to crack. My tongue darts out, running over the peeling flesh in an attempt to soothe them.What I wouldn’t give for some chapstick. A metallic taste awakens my taste buds as the cuts reopen from the abrasive contact. My mouth is so dry it feels like I ate an entire sleeve of saltine crackers.

Oh wait, I did.That was my breakfast.

Stale saltine crackers, I might add.

When the bland little squares are one of the only forms of sustenance you get, you become rather fond of them.

At least I get three meals a day.

Every morning I wake to a sleeve of saltines, followed by one tiny piece of grilled chicken—if you would even call it that—for lunch. The quality is so bad, I wouldn’t even feed it to the stray dogs. A majority of the time, it isn’t even fully cooked. But you do what you gotta do to survive. Like eating around the raw pieces and praying you won’t be on your knees vomiting your guts out in a few hours—which has happened a few times now. The rancid evidence of that resides in a five-gallon plastic bucket in the corner of my cell.

Last but not least, the final meal of the day: a meager bowl of questionable fruit. Yesterday was exciting…pineapple.Mmm.Wonder what today will bring?I always love a good surprise.

A tray slides into the small opening in the door. I waste no time at all, guzzling down the bottle of water placed on it.Slow down, Madison.I really should save some for later. I’m sure I’ll need it. There’s a high probability I’ll vomit again from the pain of today’s torture…or this game of chicken roulette I’m playing.

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