Page 105 of Blindsided
“Funny,” Rory says conversationally as he helps Connor secure Mark’s wrists. “Those are exactly the charges Lana could press against you.”
Mark’s face pales. “Lana? What are you talking about?”
“Don’t play dumb,” I snap, leaning close enough that he can’t look away from my face. “We saw what you did to her. The bruises, the broken ribs.”
“She fell,” he insists, the lie pathetic even to his own ears. “She’s always been clumsy—”
My fist connects with his stomach before I realize I’ve thrown the punch. Mark doubles over, wheezing, as Declan places a warning hand on my shoulder.
“Not here,” he murmurs. “Too many neighbors.”
Connor covers his mouth with duct tape when he tries to shout for help. Half-carrying, half-dragging him through the house and out to the waiting SUV, we work with the efficiency of men who’ve done this before—though I try not to think too hard about what that implies about my brothers’ past activities.
Mark struggles harder when he sees the open trunk, but he’s no match for the four of us. We deposit him inside, Rory adding zip ties around his ankles for good measure.
“Keys?” Declan asks as he slams the trunk closed.
I pat Mark’s pockets before we loaded him in, finding them in his jacket. “Got ‘em.”
“Good. We’ll take his car too. Less evidence we were here.”
I slide behind the wheel of Mark’s rental, following Declan as he drives toward the waterfront. Dawn is just beginning to lighten the eastern sky, and the city is still quiet around us. In the passenger seat, Connor checks his phone.
“Security cameras?” I ask.
He nods. “Mia’s handling it. Any footage of us will disappear before anyone thinks to look.”
I’m not sure if I should be impressed or disturbed by how easily my newfound family can erase evidence of a kidnapping. Both, probably.
We reach the docks as the first rays of sunlight streak across the water. It’s a forgotten corner of the harbor—abandoned warehouses, rusting equipment, no witnesses. Declan parks in the shadow of a derelict building, and I pull in beside him.
Mark is surprisingly subdued when we open the trunk, the fight gone out of him as reality sets in. His eyes darted between us, wide with fear above the duct tape.
“Bring him,” I tell the others, leading the way to the end of a rotting wooden pier that juts into the cold, dark water.
We sit him on a piling and secure him to a rusted metal cleat with more zip ties. The harbor water laps hungrily at the pilings a few feet below, black and uninviting in the early morning light.
I rip the tape from his mouth in one quick motion, making him yelp.
“You can’t do this,” he gasps, looking frantically between us. “I’m a respected businessman. People will look for me.”
“Like you looked for Kori?” I ask, crouching to meet his eyes. “Tracking her across continents?”
“That’s different! She’s my wife!”
“Ex-wife, you signed the papers,” I corrected him. “And Lana? What’s your excuse there? She was family, too.”
His expression shifts, calculation replacing fear. “Lana came onto me. She’s always been jealous of Kori, always wanted what her sister had—”
I cut him off with a hand around his throat, squeezing just enough to make his eyes bulge. “Try again. This time without the lies.”
When I release him, he gasps for air, tears streaming down his face. “What do you want from me?”
“It’s simple,” Declan says, stepping forward. “You’re going to disappear from their lives. No contact. No messages. No ‘accidental’ run-ins. You’ll sign the divorce papers without contest, and you’ll forget you ever knew either of them.”
“And those photos you’ve been holding over Lana’s head?” Rory adds. “They’re now in our possession. All copies.”
Mark’s head snaps up. “That’s impossible. They’re encrypted—”
