Chapter 10
Trinity
Screw him.
I can’t believe I kissed him. I can’t believe he kissed me.
Even if I find his strength and rugged voice sexy as hell, I hate him.
The seduction game didn’t work, and I’d rather not embarrass myself by trying again.
Because I hate him.
I yank on my left leg, but it’s still cuffed to the bedside table. I need to free myself. Quickly. Who knows where Brody went or how long he’ll be there?
I reach for the alarm clock and lift my leg as high as I can. Then, summoning all the helpless fear and rage I’ve accumulated over this day, I smash the digital clock against the wood.
Over and over, I slam the device into the bedside table until plastic and metal begin to fracture. Once the clock’s in sufficient fragments, I sift through the sharp-edged rubble for a shard that’s about the right size and length to pick the lock.
I fidget with the metal, threading the shard through the keyhole.
Lock-picking is a childhood activity I associate with Finn and Dad.
After what happened with Angelica, they did a lot to get me through the trauma.
Nothing helped, but still. They tried to train me in self-defense so I could gain my confidence back.
And Finn taught me lock-picking so that I’d never be trapped by a pair of handcuffs.
I was terrible at it as a kid, though, probably because I lacked interest in learning anything criminal at the time. Eventually, Dad and Finn gave up on teaching me survival skills.
I think they just gave up on me altogether.
Dad decided to send me away instead. First to boarding school in Long Island—although the commute to the estate in Manhattan was fairly short, I rarely went home—then to college here in California. Supposedly to keep me out of danger, but the little girl in me can’t help but feel abandoned.
And look what happened. They kept me away for so long that I never had a chance to get too close to any of them.
Now it’s too late with Dad. Over the last few years, Finn and I had just started rebuilding our sibling bond.
He visited me a couple summers ago, and we spent a week taking surfing lessons together, watching classic eighties movies, and catching up on life.
But still…
Even during his visit, he was distant at times.
I figured out quickly certain topics were off limits, like his first wife.
He married her while I was away at boarding school.
Before I even met Brianne, she was brutally murdered.
Then, while I relocated to California for college and dove into my studies, he became wrapped up in avenging her.
Next time I came up for air, Finn was getting remarried. He’s super in love. And I just—
The lock on the cuffs clicks as a fresh tear falls from my eye. As I free myself, I realize my problem.
I told Finn not to come to my graduation due to fear.
Not because I didn’t want the mafia baggage but because I’m terrified that my brother won’t like me.
He’s so much older than I am. His mother and younger brother were killed, and his dad remarried my mom, who was younger than him and already had my brother Liam. Finn probably felt like Dad was leaving him behind to start a new family.
I was in elementary school when my mother died of cancer, and after that, my father hired a nanny to care for me.
Dad’s presence forced Finn to tolerate me, but with Dad gone…what’s left to hold us together?
I swipe my eyes and rise. Finn’s the only Gallagher family I have left. Despite our age difference and the distance between us, I love him, have always looked up to him, and desperately want us to fix the rift.
But unless I escape and manage to stay alive, that will never happen.
Finn might not even know I’m missing. I’m a total asshole and rarely call him. He typically calls me first.
Urgency rushes through my limbs. After splashing water on my face and rinsing my mouth, I open the door and slip out into the hallway, my eyes slicing in both directions for any sign of Brody.
This place, this hotel, the Cypress, is my one ray of hope.
I saw the sign as Brody hauled me inside earlier. The Cypress Hotel is part of the nerve center of the Port Kings, and apparently, where one of Finn’s guys—Kellin, Brody said—now stays. I met Kellin at my father’s memorial service, so I’ll recognize him if I see him.
If I can find my brother’s man somewhere in this hotel, he’ll protect me.
I hit the emergency exit stairwell and begin climbing down concrete flights, motion-sensor lights flipping on as I scurry. Every creak causes me to jump.
I expect Brody to come racing after me any second.
All I have to do is find Kellin.
I believe he helps run the place, so he shouldn’t be too difficult to hunt down. I’ll head downstairs, stay out in the open where Brody can’t kidnap me without creating a scene, and ask the people at the front desk if I can speak with Kellin.
While they alert him, I’ll borrow their phone and call Finn myself.
I try to remain focused, but I can’t do anything about the wild hope sprouting in my chest as I near the ground level. At the bottom of the stairwell, I gingerly pull the door open and peek out at the hallway that leads to the lobby.
No sign of Brody.
With my heart thundering beneath my ribs, I slip through the doorway and walk briskly—but calmly—toward the front desk.
A bright-eyed blond wearing chandelier earrings that skim the top of her shoulders beams at me as I approach. “Hi there. Can I help you?”
“Yes, I’m looking for Kellin Brennan. Is he around?” My god, it’s hard to keep my voice normal when I’m one wrong move from a total catastrophe.
“Let me see if I can find him…” The receptionist picks up the phone but stops mid-dial. “Actually, there he is now.”
My heart soars like a firecracker as I track her gaze. Down the corridor that leads to the elevator bank, a tall, elegant man speaks with a short, bald employee.
He seems too well-mannered and gentlemanlike to be a lieutenant for the Irish Kings, but I suppose that controlled charm is what makes him so good at his job.
Salvation is a mere thirty feet away.
I take a single step in his direction, ready to race toward him like an Olympic sprinter if necessary. Clearing the length of the reception desk, I’m almost within range to call out his name when an iron fist clamps around my forearm and rips me sideways through a doorway.
On the other side, a rigid body slams into me from behind. An arm like a steel pipe folds around my waist, yanking me back into the shadows of a dim, narrow hall.
The cold, unmistakable muzzle of a pistol presses into the small of my back.
At Brody’s low growl, a shudder quakes through me. “Going somewhere?”
My hope shatters like bullet-shot glass. “I…”
“You call for Kellin, I shoot you,” Brody whispers. “Or him. Maybe both, if the mood strikes.”
I stiffen. “No, you won’t. Because then they’d kill you.”
Every nerve in my body braces for action. If I scream Kellin’s name in this moment, he’d probably hear me.
Brody releases me just enough for us to lock eyes. “And I’m also dead if I don’t bring you back to Declan. I believe they call this an impasse.”
Dust motes swirl in the faint light streaming through a high window as I scour his face for the lie.
“Come here.” Brody grabs my hand again, like he did when he towed me through Koreatown. He drags me out of the recessed doorway and to our right.
I whip my head back and glimpse Kellin in the hall. He’s finished his conversation and is walking our way. I can still—
Brody jerks me around a sharp corner and shoves me inside a cool, empty office. I barely have enough time to gasp before he’s at my back again and closing the door behind us.
My eyes adjust to the dimness in time to witness Brody rip open a walk-in closet. He all but tosses me into the cramped space, following me inside and slamming the door shut.
“What the hell are you doing?” I raise my voice to just below shouting volume.
“Shut up.” His throat rumbles a deadly warning. “Because of you, we’ve got to sneak out of here.”
I lunge for the door handle, but he snares my wrist and tugs. Next thing I know, he’s pressing me face-first against the nearest wall, his body forming a suffocating barrier at my back.
He’s so close, I can feel the coiled tension in his muscles, and the warmth radiating off him. The fire spreads from his body to mine, curling through me like a creeping blaze.
One of his hands clamps over my mouth, stifling my scream. His free hand snakes around my waist and rests there, his fingers splayed wide over my stomach.
Possessive. Threatening.
Tantalizing.
I try to speak but only manage a muffled huff of nothing.
Brody shoves a knee between my thighs, towering over me with his hand still covering my mouth. Panic, tension, and acute arousal flood my system.
My logical mind shrieks of danger, but the hard heat of his body fills me with frenzied sexual signals that buzz through my veins. His warm breath on the back of my neck chases away the shadows with bright colors of lust.
I tell myself this involuntary, unwanted physical reaction is totally normal for a woman my age and has nothing to do with Brody.
Any handsome man enveloping me in a dark closet on the second worst day of my life would elicit the same unfortunate sexual response.
Me compartmentalizing the hotness of this moment as an anomalous psychological phenomenon seems to work…until Brody bends his head toward me.
His mouth hovers over my shoulder, and his breath tickles my cheek. Despite the barrier of our pants, the stiff ridge of his cock presses into me.
The rational voice in my body screams at me to fight. Bite his hand. Stomp his foot.
But my fear isn’t strong enough to overcome the thrilling, syrupy-sweet vine snaking through me. Against all logic, my body betrays me again.
A reflexive arch of my spine tips my hips back to meet his erection head-on. The sensation prompts me to shut my eyes and surrender to this sultry, dangerous darkness.
As I do so, shame grips my heart. Is it actually possible that I want this disgusting, arrogant, hard-jawed bad boy?
Behind me, Brody stills. Like a predator scenting injured prey. Then the broad hand on my stomach slides over to my hip. His fingers dig in enough to leave bruises as he tugs me into him and rocks against me.
My lungs hitch as Brody’s thumb hooks into the waistband of my jeans. With deft, practiced fingers, he slips his hand under the fabric.
My chest aches, my heart pumping so hard that he must feel the beats through my back. The burn of arousal eats away at every fiber of sanity I have left. Calloused fingertips on the sensitive skin of my lower belly cause me to shiver.
He glides his hand down, tracing the high-cut border of my underwear. My whimper of protest goes ignored as he trails his fingers lower.
The moisture between my thighs has nothing to do with him or this incriminating position. Absolutely not.
Brody releases a raspy groan of satisfaction. His lips brush my ear. “You feel that?” He presses his finger over the fabric covering my damp clit. “You’re mine now, and Kellin can’t help you.”
He rolls his hips forward in a deliberate thrust against my ass. I shudder as another soft whimper escapes my throat.
Brody’s no longer merely holding me captive. He’s stealing every last bit of my common sense, right here in the dark.
I’m seconds from either complete capitulation or a psychological breakdown when the office door swings open. Someone flips the light switch, painting us with warm slices of light through the slanted vents in the closet door.
We both freeze as Kellin Brennan, the one person who can save me, strides into the room.