Page 122 of Unholy Obsession

I cometo in total darkness, my head throbbing like I spent the night downing tequila shots and banging my head against a brick wall. Well, the last thing I rememberisdowning a margarita, a bunch of shots, and then a beer, but I don’t recall a brick wall.

Annnnnd there’s the little fact that my arms are yanked behind my back, plastic zip ties biting into my wrists, and my butt is aching from a cold, hard concrete floor.

Oh. Right. I gotkidnapped.

There’s a groan next to me. Then a muttered, “Fuckinghell.”

Mads.

I exhale sharply, my own breath hot under the fabric covering my face. We’ve been hooded. Fucking fantastic. That’s agreatsign.

“Mads? You alive?”

“Unfortunately.” A beat of silence. Then, “Moira. You absolutedisasterof a human being. This is one hundred percent your fault.”

I bark out a laugh. “Oh,myfault?Youwere the one dragging me down the street like we were late for the fucking Oscars!”

“Yeah, because I was trying tosave your life!” she hisses. “Jesus Christ, I tell you to break up with your priest, and instead of listening like a reasonable person, you drop that little bombshell—Oh, by the way, we got married—and the next second, we’re getting thrown into a goddamn van!”

I roll my shoulders, testing the zip ties. No give.

“That had nothing to do with this! Nobody even knows about that. He made sure the marriage certificate was confidential so it’s not a matter of public record.”

Not that I understood why at the time, but now I’m starting to get it. “Nobody would have even known I was with him. This is about that stupid paparazzi picture because you had to go smoke a stupid fucking cigarette when you knew there were fucking photographers around!”

Mads lets out a strangled noise. “Oh,fuck you, Moira.Fuck. You.I should’veleft youthere. I should’ve just walked away and let you handle your own goddamn mess.”

I snort. “Uh-huh. Becauseyouwere the one who got dragged intomybullshit, not the other way around?”

“Oh my God, Ihateyou.” She shifts against the floor. “Where evenarewe?”

I tilt my head, listening. No city sounds. No people. Just the faint hum of industrial lighting and the drip-drip-drip of something thatbetterbe water. “Warehouse, maybe? Basement? Definitely somewhere creepy and murder-y.”

Mads sighs. “Fabulous. Just how I wanted to spend my night. Tied up next toyouin a discount horror movie set.”

“Would you rather they knocked you out again? Because I could start screaming and see if they come back.”

“Don’t you fucking dare.”

“Then shut up and let me think.”

“Oh, great, Moira’s gonnathink. This is already goingso well,” Mads mutters.

I shake my head. “Why didn’t you go running to your billionaire fiancé? Domhnall could have an entire army of mercs to protect him and you.”

Silence. A tense, angry silence.

Then I get it. “Oh shit, this is too big for even Domhnall to fix, isn’t it? But at least he could’vetried.”

“And ended up with us all dead if any little thing got fucked up? No! I won’t risk him.” Then she growls, “You’re the idiot who fucked the son of the richest man in the world. So fuck you.”

“Took the words right out of my mouth.”

She groans. “Okay, well, whatever yourbig planis, I assume it involves some level of stupidity.”

I inhale deeply. “Oh, absolutely.”

“Of course it does,” she mutters. “This is really working out great for both of us. Just stellar planning all around. I love being tied up in a murder basement. Best day ever.”

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