Page 11 of Twisted Road

I ring down to the guardhouse. Nick’s gravelly voice comes through the line. “What you need, boss?”

“Did you take care of Caden?”

“The boys are sending him away now.”

That’s mafia speak for ‘body disposal’.

“Good,” I grunt. “Did he suffer?”

“Like the son of a bitch he was.”

I hang up. That’s one less problem. Caden did a shit job staking out the Dullahans. I just hope there are no more surprises he failed to uncover.

Chapter 8

Aurora

I wake up sometime around ten. My eyes are sore and cracked. I cried myself to sleep last night. I lay there for a while waiting for something to happen or any idea of what I should do. Never have I been in such a crazy situation, but I think I can get used to this. I hope I can get used to it.

In the end, I get ready for the day and creep cautiously downstairs. I hope none of Caine’s men are around. The house is nice. It looks like how I would decorate my own home, which only serves to annoy me.

I walk into the kitchen and ignore Caine making breakfast. I make to return to the guest room.

“Aren’t you hungry?” he asks.

Reluctantly, I turn around. As if on cue, my stomach growls. I flush in embarrassment. Caine flashes the easy smile I recognize fromthatnight.

“Have a seat. I make an excellent omelet. I hope you like eggs.”

Slowly, I sit down at the kitchen island. It gives me a decent view of the omelet Caine is making. I train my eyes on the kitchen counter.

“Between kidnapping girls and gunning men down, I’m surprised you cook. Where do you find the time?”

He smirks. Amusement dances in his eyes. “Girl.”

“Huh?”

“Girl. Singular. I don’t make a habit of it,” he says. “Cooking is how I unwind. It’s important to eat right.”

I sneak a peek at his form and my mouth goes dry. Caine has a swimmer’s physique that looks effortless. Having seen what’s underneath those clothes, I know those muscles don’t come from slacking off or eating junk.

“I’m so happy to hear kidnapping me is stressful,” I mutter. “I’m going to make you so stressed your hair will fall out.”

Caine rolls his eyes, unbothered by my attitude. “You seem surprised. You don’t cook?”

I shake my head. “My mom used to. Since I moved in with dad and Liam, it’s been all takeout all the time.”

“Well, not here. In my house we eat proper food.”

Before I can protest, he slides a plate with half the omelet and toast my way. Then he fills up a coffee mug and a glass of orange juice for me.

“Thanks,” I mutter.

He winks. “It’s common courtesy to feed your hostages. Did Queen Elizabeth leave Mary Queen of Scots to starve?”

“I wouldn’t know. Not much of a history buff,” I say. The world’s best breakfast and a few smiles will not make me forget I’m a prisoner. Charm won’t work on me, jackass.

He takes the bacon out of the oven and I think he’s lost his mind, but it looks delicious.

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