Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
KILLIAN
Idial the number I swore I’d never call again. I’m not sure why I haven’t deleted it from my phone, but right now, I’m glad I didn’t.
“Killian Bonetti,” he says as he answers the phone, clearly still having my number as well.
“Yeah. I’m as surprised as you are, but I’m outside and I want to make a deal.”
I can almost hear this creepy motherfucker’s smile through the phone.
Father Murphy owns the asylum, although not on paper.
It’s registered as ‘St Dymphna’s Home for the Mentally Ill’.
But he owns it. He has more than signing authority.
Father Murphy is in charge of everything.
And for him, it has nothing to do with healing the sick—it’s about money.
So much for that vow of poverty. Not only is he not poor, but he’s fucking wealthy.
I drive up to the tall, black metal gates and stop. Rolling down my window, I wait as the armed guard approaches me and I hand him my driver’s license.
“Killian Bonetti to see Father Murphy. He is expecting me.”
He keeps his eyes on me as he confirms what I told him on his earpiece.
“Go through the gate and park in the Temporary Business Office Parking. Front door. Ring the buzzer. Leave any weapons in your vehicle. You will be searched.”
I don’t bother telling him I know the rules since I’ve done this before. After parking, I get out and walk to the front door. I press the button and wait. The door clicks open, and I step inside. Two armed guards approach me and pat me down, looking for weapons.
“This way,” the Russian one says, so I follow him. We walk into Father Murphy’s office, and he nods to the empty chair, so I take a seat. The guards stand behind me, and I know from experience that’s where they’ll stay.
He looks up from his computer and acknowledges me.
“What can I do for you, Killian?”
I drag my hand down my face and say, “Heather Mancini. How much to get her out?”
He shakes his head as he sucks in a sharp breath, dramatically.
“That will be tough because someone paid a lot of money to get her here.”
“Who?” I ask, even though I already know the answer to my question.
“I can’t tell you that. It’ll be expensive. In fact, it’ll probably cost you everything. So, I think you need to decide how badly you want her. Is she worth—everything?”
This is different from last time. What the fuck is everything?
I have no idea how much money he’s talking about, but she is worth everything.
Knowing she’s here and I can take her back where she belongs—there is no question about it.
I’ll do it, regardless of the cost. I created this problem, and I’ll be the one to fix it.
“What do you want?”
He grins wide, looking like the predator I know he is.
“Everything, son. Just like with your brother. A deathmatch from which I get 100% of the proceeds. You fight. Maybe you live, maybe you die. I don’t know.
If you don’t win, I expect your family to honor our deal.
And to keep you from backing out, Heather will be there, along with your brothers.
I am warning you now. Back out and she dies, while you watch. ”
My muscles are tense as I sit in the chair fighting myself from getting up and killing this motherfucker right here and now. Gritting my teeth, I hiss out my response.
“Fine,”
He laughs obnoxiously, and I move to get out of the chair, losing my internal battle and needing to punch him in his scarred face. A gun is immediately at the back of my head, causing me to still.
“I’m not done. I want the chop shop with your employees.”
I grip the sides of the chair as I realize he really fucking means everything.
“I cannot sell you my goddamn employees. They are human beings who make their own choices. They work for us willingly.”
He takes a sip of the amber liquid in a tumbler and sets it back down on his black desk.
“Fair enough. The fight will be in thirty days. Plenty of time to prepare. I will personally pick your opponent. If you leave here with her, you agree to my terms. I don’t think I have to tell you again what backing out means for the four of you.”
I nod in agreement because I won’t back out. I’ve never in my life backed down from a fight, but it does make me wonder what he has up his sleeve. But it doesn’t matter. Because I’d agree to it, anyway. If he wanted me to trade my life for hers—I would in a heartbeat.
He glances at one of the two men, “Rocky, go get her.”
I nearly roll my eyes at his name but stop myself because I’m so fucking relieved to be getting her out of here.
Every minute feels like an hour as I wait for her. When Rocky comes in carrying her in his arms, I’m ready to lose my shit and cost us this deal. I jump out of my seat and nearly sprint to her.
“What the fuck happened?”
He places her in my arms and says, “Passed out, but she’s fine.”
She blinks her eyes open, and fear registers all over her face. It guts me, but I can’t blame her.
“I’m not going to hurt you, baby. I’m taking you to Knox and Carter.”
I’m not an idiot. I did this. Instead of being her safety net the way my brothers are, I’m the enemy. Once again, I only have myself to blame.
“Put me down, dick.” She groans as we exit the office. It’s not meant as a term of endearment, but fuck—it feels like one.
Leaning forward, I whisper in her ear.
“I need to get you out of here. Fast.”
She continues to struggle in my hold, but I don’t let her go. Instead, I tighten my arms around her, my chest clenching with the pain I know I’ve caused her. All three of them. As soon as I put her down, she may never let me touch her again.