Page 80 of Dublin's Danger Dancer

I hear rustling in a drawer. Liam takes out what I think must be cable ties. He trots towards me. He buckles one wrist to the swirling scrollwork metal headboard I’d seen when he flashed his torch.

“I don’t need to tell you. Don’t try anything because you know what will happen to you if you do.”

I lay exhausted, listening to the sound of mice running above us and the sound of Liam kicking off his tux. He lies on a bed that must be close to mine because I could feel his body heat.

Inwardly, I felt like a knife was plundering again and again into my chest. My heat stings with all the lies I’d swallowed. Perhaps karma had delivered back to me exactly what I was giving the world: betrayal.

Ferg’s blood drenched eyes are at the centre of my dreams.

Chapter Twenty-one

I wake to sharp lights filling the room. I look around myself. The stone walls of the outhouse are now visible. I look up to see solid beams above us and racks of hay barrels.

There was straw all over the floor and when I look over to where I expect to see Liam he’s not there. I’m still chained to the bed, but now I’m chained by my wrist and ankle, unable to move.

I desperately need the toilet. I wonder if the smells circling the room are coming from me or some nearby farm animals.

The door of the structure opens. Liam’s carrying a plastic bag full of what looks like food.

“We’re going to eat breakfast,” he says, going over to a camp stove and beginning to set things up.

“I really need the toilet, Liam.”

“We never tried golden showers,” he says, looking down at me with malice in his eyes.

“Please,” I plead.

“I’ll tell you what, I’ll let you go to the toilet. Once you dance for me,” he says.

“Fine,” I breathe, staring at him blankly.

He walks over to me, pulls his gun from his waist belt and pushes it beneath my jaw. The coldness of it jolting into my skin makes adrenaline shoot through my body.

“Stand up,” he demands.

“I would if I wasn’t tied up and you weren’t holding a gun under my neck.”

He takes a knife out of his pocket and slices through my cable ties. He pulls the gun back. “I won’t hesitate to shoot you.”

“Please, can I use the toilet first? Dancing with a full bladder could end badly.” I say, trying to solicit the smallest of smiles from him.

“Use the bucket over there,” he says, motioning with his head in the corner, where there is a black bucket.

I walk over, pull up my sequined gown that gratefully kept me warm in the night, and crouch down over the bucket. The smell of ammonia fills the barn.

“Where are we?” I ask.

Liam sits down in an old wooden chair that is carved at the back with a heart. He opens his legs wide and beckons me to come over.

“I want my dance now.” He laughs. “Is there some kind of garda school where you go, learn to become a stripper?”

“A burlesque teacher taught me.” I say walking towards him, running one finger over one of my breasts.

He looks up at me.

“None of this, leaving your shorts on. I want you to take off every single thing you’re wearing.” He opens his legs wider and pushes his palms into his knees.

“I need you to unzip my dress.” I say, cocking my chin into the air as my eyes try and search through the cracks in the door for any clues as to where we are.

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