Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty-Three
Killian
It took longer than he’d expected for his phone to ring. Nearly three hours after he’d plucked Aria off the streets of Charleston in broad daylight, her father finally called, his voice full of frantic worry when Killian answered.
“Aria’s missing. She never showed up for work this morning, she didn’t stop at her usual coffee place, and she isn’t answering her phone. I think someone took her, Killian.”
Guilt pricked at the back of his mind. He’d done what he’d needed to do, and he would do it again in a heartbeat, but hearing his friend so panicked over his missing daughter hurt in a way he hadn’t anticipated.
And because it did, he put Braden out of his misery rather than dragging the call out the way he’d been considering before the phone even rang. “She isn’t missing, Braden. She’s safe.”
“What? How do you know? Where is she?”
“She’s safe,” Killian repeated.
Silence stretched between them. “Killian.” The panic had gone now, leaving behind steel and fury. “Where the hell is my daughter?”
“With me, safe and sound.” Even with the prickles of guilt, he couldn’t resist twisting the knife a bit.
“I really expected more from you, Braden. Letting her wander the city alone after I told you she was in danger. You’re lucky it was me who found her first and not the Italians. Or worse, the Russians.”
The Italians would have taken her, kept her for ransom until Killian caved to their demands. Which he never would have done, and then the city would have been dragged into an all-out war between the families because he instead would have slaughtered every single one of them for daring to touch her.
But if the Russians had gotten to her first…
He didn’t want to think about what would have happened if they’d gotten to her first.
“Fine. You’ve made your point. Holden has a team ready to go to watch over her. I’m on my way to pick her up.”
“No.”
More silence, this time thicker and deadlier than the first. “Excuse me?”
If Killian had been anyone else, he imagined he would have been intimidated by that tone. But he knew Braden didn’t have the resources or, if he was being brutally honest, the stomach to take Killian and his family on, no matter what was at stake.
Still, he ached for the distance he could feel widening between them with every passing second.
“Since you and Aria both failed to grasp the seriousness of this situation, I’ve decided to take matters into my own hands.
Aria has resigned from her position with Richard Williams, and she will be staying with me until I am convinced she can and will take her safety as seriously as I do. ”
“Are you threatening to hold my daughter prisoner?”
“You know me well enough to know I don’t make threats, Braden. I simply do what needs to be done. And this needed to be done.”
“The hell it did. I’m coming to get my daughter, O’Rourke, and if you know what’s good for you, you’ll stay the fuck out of my way.”
The call ended and Killian sighed before pressing the button on his landline that would connect him to the guard station at the front of the house.
“Braden Elliott is on his way. He is to be escorted directly to my office without any interference. If any harm comes to him for whatever reason, whoever is responsible will answer to me.”
“Got it, boss.”
Satisfied his people would do as he’d instructed, he made another call, this time to the kitchen.
No doubt his guest would be hungry when he arrived. Righteous anger was bound to burn plenty of calories.
Aria
She was starving.
According to the digital clock on her nightstand, she’d been snatched off the streets three hours ago and locked in this room for over two hours. And since she’d been too nauseous to eat anything that morning, it had been over twelve hours since she’d put anything in her belly.
Just as she was considering the benefits of a hunger strike in forcing Killian’s hand, a knock sounded on her door. Curious, she slid from the bed and made her way across the room.
On the other side of the door stood a man who couldn’t have been much older than her, if at all. A cousin, maybe? Whoever he was, he kept his expression carefully neutral. “Come with me, please.”
So polite for a criminal. “No.”
Surprise flickered across his face, but only for a moment before that blank mask was once again in place. “It wasn’t a request, ma’am.”
“Ma’am? I’m the same age as you.”
“I’m aware.”
That was it. No explanation, no nothing, just like the man who, she assumed, signed his checks. “I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what’s going on.”
“Killian sent for you.”
Right. And everyone in this damn house jumped to do Killian’s bidding. “Well you can tell Killian I said if he wants me, he can come get me his damn self.”
She slammed the door in his face, but the smug sense of righteousness only lasted for a moment. Poor kid was just doing his job. Did he even know he was working for a criminal empire?
He had to, right? From the few episodes of The Sopranos she’d managed to stomach after she’d learned who Killian was, it seemed like the kids knew at least the surface level of what their family was involved in even if they didn’t know the ins and outs of the business.
So it seemed unlikely the baby-faced guard didn’t at least know something about how the O’Rourkes operated.
Which meant she had absolutely no reason to feel guilty about slamming the door in his face. None at all.
Ugh.
She’d just about made up her mind to open the door again and apologize when said door swung open, revealing an amused Killian.
“Stubborn little princess,” he said, that same amusement coloring his words as he slowly made his way across the room to the bed she’d once more planted herself on. “Or maybe you just wanted to see if I would come running when you called. Which is it?”
He stalked her, with the same slow, easy grace of a panther slinking through the jungle. In direct contrast, her heart was galloping in her chest just at the sight of him, beating harder and faster with every step he took toward her.
“Well?” He asked when he reached the edge of her bed, his voice a low purr that once again put her in the mind of some kind of sleek jungle cat. “Which is it, Aria?”
Swallowing the mix of fear and desire that had lodged itself in her throat, she raised an eyebrow in what she hoped was a regal manner. “Maybe I just don’t like being ordered around by proxy.”
Interest glinted in his eye. “Just by me directly, then.”
Dammit. “That’s not what I meant.”
“Oh, but I think it is, princess.” Leaning in, he placed his hands on the bed on either side of her, caging her in, his lips a whisper from hers. “You certainly enjoyed being ordered around when I had you tied to that bed in your father’s club, forcing you to come until you forgot your own name.”
Heat pooled low in her belly as the memories crowded her. And it was very definitely just from the memories, not from the man himself invading her space. “You think very highly of yourself, O’Rourke.”
His expression shifted, ever so slightly, revealing his irritation before he smoothed it over into an amused mask again. “You may call me Sir, or Killian, or even Daddy if you prefer.”
Oh, she’d hit a nerve.
Good.
“Why are you in my bedroom, O’Rourke?”
Again there was that little flicker of irritation before he managed to smother it. “You need to eat. Come.”
Stepping back from the bed, he held out a hand. Part of her, the part she recognized as completely childish, wanted to stay put. But that would be cutting off her nose to spite her face seeing as how she actually really was hungry.
So she ignored the offer of his hand and slid out of the bed. Killian dropped his arm with a shrug and turned to lead the way out of her room.
As she followed, she scanned her surroundings. Now that her emotions were a bit more under control than they had been when Reagan had been showing her to her room earlier, she could take things in with a more critical eye.
The house was just as gorgeous as she remembered it, a fact that burrowed under her skin like an itch she couldn’t scratch.
It wasn’t right that people could generate this kind of wealth, generation after generation, by breaking the law.
Not when there were families doing the right thing, following all the rules, and still struggling to just put food on the table.
More than that, though, she hated how much she liked his home. Under different circumstances, she would have taken the time to stop and admire the artwork scattered throughout the house. Would have enjoyed the simple elegance of her temporary home.
But these weren’t different circumstances, so instead she found herself searching for cracks in the armor. Places where there might be gaps in surveillance, areas she could slip into unnoticed when the time came to make her great escape.
She still didn’t see any guards, other than the baby-faced boy stationed outside her bedroom.
It could be that Killian was confident in his own abilities to ward off any would-be intruders, but she couldn’t reconcile that kind of carelessness with the man who had kidnapped her off the street just to prove a point about the precautions she’d neglected to take.
So for the time being, she would operate under the assumption the house was well guarded, both electronically and by humans. She just needed to figure out how.
Killian led her not to the dining room as she’d expected, but to his office.
Unlike her father’s home office, which trended more modern, Killian’s inner sanctum whispered of old money like the rest of the house.
A heavy wooden desk sat in the middle of the room and she slowed as she studied the piece.
Instead of four legs or even the columns of drawers one might expect, the dark wood of his desk was held up by four carved lions. Regal and commanding, just like the man hovering behind her.
“My great-grandfather had the piece commissioned after he claimed the docks in a bloody battle that cost our family nearly a dozen men.” He spoke softly, and the grief in his tone was palpable.
The grief confused her. She would have expected pride, maybe even a bit of smugness.
But this sadness over men he’d never met… it didn’t make any sense.
Moving around her, he settled behind the desk, running his hands over the gleaming wood. “The lion, my father told me, is a very important symbol in our family. ‘Deathless courage’. Which is rather ironic considering how many of us have died in the building of our empire, but there it is.”
“Then why do it?” As soon as the question slipped out, she wished she could take it back. She didn’t want to know him, didn’t want to feel this burning curiosity tugging at her.
But the question was asked, so there was no taking it back. And, to her surprise, Killian didn’t simply wave her off. He raised his head, those glittering emerald eyes locking with hers.
“We were never taught any other way.”
It was the truth, at least as far as she could tell. And her heart broke for the boy he’d once been, learning the violent ways of a world he’d been dragged into without any say.
He had a say now, though. That boy had grown into a man who could make his own decisions, forge his own path. And yet, he continued on the one his family had laid out for him. Was it weakness or greed or some disgusting combination of both that kept him chained to that desk?
Killian’s gaze shifted to something behind her, a small smile curving his lips. “Ah, there you are. I’m so glad you could make it.”
Whipping around, she froze in shock at the man standing in the doorway to Killian’s office, fury all but radiating from his pores.
“Dad?”