Page 21 of Dangerously Deceptive

“Fuck’s sake, Bane. Let her go or she will ruin my design,” Bell-Bottoms shouts towards Bane who quickly lets go of my clit. As the blood rushes to the swollen sensitive nub, the pain increases and I can’t help but cry out from the pain.

“She better answer then, and quickly,” Bane replies, and I try to desperately rack my brain for the question, but all I can focus on is the throbbing in my clit.

Luckily, Whiskey steps in. “For fuck’s sake, Shayla. Tell Bane what a dirty little bitch you are, before he cuts your clit off,” he snarls, making it sound as though he’s threatening me. But I can hear what he’s really saying. He’s telling me the answer to the question. Although, how he knows I don’t know, is another question entirely. He always says he knows me better than anyone else, maybe he’s right.

“I-I’m a…a dirty slut. I-I love…it. Need…to…come. Filthy whore. Slut. Cunt. More please,” I babble. My words that are uncoordinated and sound strange are being spluttered out amongst the tears and snot. Not to mention the cries of pain from all the aches, pains, and stinging my body is experiencing. Those pains are so intense they overpower the stinging coming from the tattoo gun.

Bane, obviously pleased with my response, goes back to rubbing my now overly-sensitive clit and I can’t stop the cries. Within just a few strokes my body betrays me, and despite feeling nothing good at all from the motion, my body begins to climb that peak. I can feel my muscles beginning to coil, as my body prepares for the ultimate treason.

Wasting no time, Bane continues stroking my clit, and the cat-calls and hollers all around us increase as more derogatory slurs are aimed my way. With all the things going on, I don’t know how I even notice, but I feel the tattoo gun stop stabbing into my body. That’s when my father roughly takes hold of the hair on the top of my head and tilts me so I can see down towards my pussy. Or at least I could if Joker removed his hands. He appears to be waiting for something.

That’s when I feel Bane climb off me, and as he spreads my legs wide, he thrusts two fingers into my pussy. At the same time Joker moves his tear-stained hands from my eyes. It takes me a few seconds for my eyes to adjust, and just as my body begins to fall apart of its own accord, I look down and see the tattoo. A perfectly drawn reaper complete with a black cape and scythe. Then, the writing all around the tattoo is clearly my father’s input. At the top it says ‘Property of the’, and at the bottom it says, ‘Celtic Reapers’. They have only gone and fucking branded me for life!

I don’t care as my body orgasms, my desperate cries filling the room alongside more shouts about what a whore I am. I feel as though I’m floating away, like this isn’t really happening to me. Or at least, that’s my wish. Except it is, and there’s no getting away from it. This is my life now. Or it will be if I don’t get my ass to Church and demand my freedom.

As I lay there, the assault and humiliation continuing, I hatch my plan. I know there’s something my father wants more than anything. I also know the reason they don’t have it is because it’s near enough a suicide mission. Luckily, I’m the perfect girl for the job because either outcome is a win-win for me. Either I achieve my goal, and the Reapers have to grant me my freedom, or I fail, and I die. Both sound pretty good to me right now.

* * *

Flashbacks of those memories,and the repeated episodes that I have survived since fill up my mind, reminding me of exactly why I am doing this. When the partition door opens, and Kellan walks back into the room looking sexy in just a low-hanging pair of grey sweats, I want to concentrate on the hard planes of his abs, and to explore where that happy trail leads. But, I can’t ignore the solemn look on his face.

“The heist is on, it’s happening today!”

Ican’t stop repeating the words over and over in my head. “The heist is on, it’s happening today!”

Ever since Kellan said those words a couple of hours ago, it feels as though the day has passed by in a blur. Kellan has been permanently attached to his laptop, and we have been running through drills and scenarios for all possible options. It sounds as though we have the perfect plan, on paper. But we both know that perfection on paper is nothing compared to real life. There are so many unknown variables that we just can’t predict, but Kellan assures me we have everything covered.

Time is ticking on, and as we get word the plane has landed in Ireland, my nerves starts to set in. We only have a couple of hours before I need to go and do this. Or fail miserably.

No! Positive mental attitude, I kept repeating to myself, as my heart starts to race. My breathing is becoming faster and more irregular, and I could feel the panic beginning to consume me. Until a knock on the door physically gives me a heart attack. I’m not kidding, I literally jump a good two metres in the air as the light knocking on the door continues.

Looking around, I try to remember what I did with the gun Kellan gave me. He has been taking me out into this field in the middle of nowhere to teach me how to shoot. He says on the day I won't actually be able to have a gun, the security is far too tight for that, but if things go sideways, and I can get a hold of someone else's gun, it’s better to know how to shoot. A few times when he talked as we trained, I wondered if he was teaching me this to use against the Reapers. At least, that's who I had in my head when I was practising.

Kellan, on the other hand, doesn’t appear to be searching for a gun, and instead heads straight for the door. Given how devilishly tight that black t-shirt he has on is, there’s nowhere for him to hide a gun that I wouldn’t be able to see. Besides, even when he was showing me how to shoot—and fuck can he shoot—it didn’t seem like Kellan. I think it’s something he learned how to use, and he is good at it, but only out of necessity. My tech geek is much better suited to fighting wars from behind a computer screen.

Whoa.Mytech geek. Where the fuck had that come from?

I guess I hadn’t really had much opportunity to process what happened between us because as soon as I woke up this morning, it all kicked off. And, don’t get me wrong, I fully heard every word he said last night. Particularly the parts about him not being interested in anything long-term, and that he doesn’t do relationships. Which is good because I have no idea what a healthy relationship looks like. Would I want to give one a chance with Kellan? Obviously! The guy is gorgeous, caring, and fuck does he know how to bring my body to life. But if all he’s willing to give is the here and now, then I am here for now, secretly craving more.

As soon as the door opens, Kellan doesn’t hesitate to open it wide and let his guest inside. Once in, and the door closes, they just appear to stare at each other. Like they aren’t really sure if they are friends or not. Despite having some obvious differences, they look like they could be brothers. They both have the same lean, athletic shape, with muscles in all the right places. I wonder if the new guy has washboard abs too. I almost laugh at my thoughts. Of course he will. No guy this hot can’t be perfect in every way.

His sandy blond hair flops across his forehead, and his perfect face makes him look like he should be in a man band. Not a boy band because this guy is certainly all man, but he is definitely beautiful enough to be the bookend of a boy band. He’s giving me some serious Westlife vibes right about now, which any Irish girl my age would be falling all over. But then he smiles at Kellan, revealing those perfect fucking dimples and I’m swooning. How do women pass this guy in the street and not throw their bras at him?

He pulls Kellan in for a man hug, and I realise Kellan has an equally large smile on his face. “Bro, it’s been far too long. Thank you so much for coming all this way. Although I’m not sure Liam will have given you much choice in the matter. I didn’t even know you guys were still in touch.”

I listen to Kellan talking, absolutely transfixed as I get an insight into the man who hasn’t really spoken much about himself the entire time we’ve been spending time together. Even when I was in the hospital and we had literally nothing else to do but talk, we always talked about me, or the Reapers. We barely covered his life. All I know is that he sees Liam as his brother, and that he was raised with Liam after his mum abandoned him. I don’t think he has ever even talked about a dad. He sure as hell has never mentioned any other friends.

“It’s been too fucking long. But you still look the same, geek. I’ve missed you,” he says, before he takes a long, deep breath and continues, “I miss Liam. It’s good we can still chat, and we play each other on Fortnite every so often. It’s so refreshing to watch a world-class assassin get trashed by ten-year-olds when we play against random kids that are way better than us. Even if it does make me feel old. I just wish that we could be a family again. I hate that everyone is all over the place, not talking to each other.”

“I know, Finn. But, if your dad could be any less of a psychopathic wanker then we might be able to. But it was getting to the stage where we couldn't even have a family dinner without him bloody shooting someone. Remember the last one where he shot Evan’s driver, Brock, because he thought he was making eyes at the girls?” Kellan recalls, and I really don’t know if I should announce my presence or not. They’re clearly having a reminiscing moment that I should not interrupt, but at the same time, I’m worried I shouldn’t be listening at all.

“Yeah, if only Dad knew it was bloody Ryleigh chasing him. But, I know what you mean. I’m not even going to lie and say he’s got better. Something is going on with him, and with Evan. It feels like they are falling further down a rabbit hole, yet they have no idea where it leads,” the cute guy says as he runs his fingers through his hair. Would they notice if I start fanning myself?

“Don’t worry about that. If there’s one thing I know about Desmond Doughty, it’s that he will always fall on his fucking feet. Even if he has to use everyone else to do it. I know Liam wants you and Evan as far away from him as possible. So, why are you still there, bro?” Kellan asks, his voice sounding almost pleading. I can tell that he has a lot of love for this guy.

“I have my reasons.” His words sit, and it’s as though all the atmosphere gets sucked out of the room. This guy clearly doesn’t look happy about staying, but he also doesn’t want to talk about his reasons. Now this is something I can fucking relate to.

So many times when I have been to the hospital with injuries, they always assume I’m in an abusive relationship, which in a way, I guess I am. But the nurses, particularly if they have looked after me before, they always get this look on their face, and I know they are trying to be helpful but it still isn’t. They ask me why I don’t leave. Why won't I accept help? Why won't I fight back, or fight to get free? Sometimes, what they don’t realise, is that even by just being at the hospital, that is me fighting. I have my reasons, just like this guy does.

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