CHAPTER SIXTY
Ella
W ater splashes in my face, and I gasp a breath. Head pounding, I crank open one eye and my world tumbles out of control.
Wesley fills my vision. In his police uniform. As if I need the reminder.
“Hello, Estella ,” the breathy way he says my full name turns my blood cold.
I lift my head to scream, only to realize I’m tied to a table. Flat on my back with my hands over my head. When I try to kick, I realize my legs are tied to each corner as well.
I shiver and realize I’m stripped down to my bra and panty.
“My clothes! Where are my clothes?” I bellow, twisting against the bindings.
“The clothes some other man bought you?” he grinds out, sounding furious.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I play dumb.
How much does Wes know about my life now?
“I have all you need right here.” He picks up the box that was left on my doorstep, the one he dropped off.
The idea he got into my father’s apartment has me thrashing on the table. “Stop. Stop it. Help!” I scream.
“Relax, Ella,” he says, scrunching his nose.
“Don’t tell me to relax,” I snap. “Where the hell am I? How long have I been here?”
“I can’t say where you are.” He smiles. “But you’ve been here for three days.”
Breath whooshes from my lungs. Three days? Is Balor looking for me? My father? Combined, they’re a deadly duo.
“You are a stupid, stupid, dead man, Wesley,” I grind out.
“You belong to me. Did I not make that clear?” His fingers grip my shoulder. Sharp nails like talons dig into the tatted skin. “And what the fuck is this?”
“It’s a tattoo to cover where you engraved your initials into me like a monster.”
“I branded you as mine,” he screams.
“I am not yours ,” I scream back. “You’re a damn cop who knows the law. You can’t own another person.”
“You’re tied to a table in my basement, so maybe the situation says otherwise.”
“Where’s my phone?” I wiggle against my restraints. If it’s nearby, and I can get my hands free, I might be able to drop a pin where I am.
If Balor isn’t looking for me now, eventually, he will. Right? I’m still having his babies.
My father will realize I’m missing and ask for his help.
“Your purse is at the bottom of the river.” Wes smiles and holds up my phone. “Don’t worry, I kept this little souvenir.”
“My wallet, my license? Why—”
“You’re not leaving this house anytime soon. You don’t need money or your license. You. Are. Mine.” He tosses my phone on a wooden table, raises a large hammer, and smashes it. Pieces go shooting off in all directions.
Killing my last hope that anyone will find me.
Except...
Balor knows about Wes and will find his address, which isn’t too far from Astoria.
River...
“You threw my stuff in the river. What river?”
“Hudson River.” Wes grimaces. “Upper Hudson River. We’re at my dad’s house upstate.”
Oh crap.
“When you say, I’m not leaving here... ”
“You caught on.” Wes paces. “I still have to work. When I’m gone, you’ll stay here.”
“You’ll untie me?”
“I don’t trust you not to run away,” he says.
“Wes, you work long shifts. And then there’s the drive.” I look at him with pleading eyes. “Surely you won’t leave me all day like this.”
“Not just all day.” He smiles. “All week, too.”
I swallow, thinking this has to be a nightmare. “You’re going to keep me tied up, all week. No food, no water, no way to go to the bathroom?”
“I’ll put out bowls of food and water and a wee-wee pad. It’s only until you’ve atoned for your sins.”
“ My sins?”
He takes out a photo from his back pocket. “You’ve been a very bad slut.”
Eyes flickering across an ultrasound photo, I see my name printed in the top right-hand corner.
“Where did you get that?”
“Your purse!”
“Now you know I’m pregnant , Wesley. The father is a dangerous man. Are you insane?”
Wesley takes out his gun and presses the barrel to my forehead. “Who’s dangerous?”
“Wesley, please. I’m having a baby.”
His Adam’s apple bobs up and down, anger transforming his face. “You let that fucker dump his poisonous seed inside you?”
I close my eyes. “Please, Wes.”
“You won’t be pregnant by the time I’m done with you.” He digs the gun harder into my skull, and I have to breathe through the pain. “And you’re going to pay extra for letting another man touch you.”
I shiver at the thought of him, or anyone, hurting my babies .
“You’re sick, Wesley. But it’s not your fault.” I try to use sympathy as a ruse. “Just untie me. We can talk, work this out.”
He ignores me and takes out another phone and texts someone.
“Who... Who are you texting?”
“The doctor.”
I heave, bile rushing into my throat. Gagging, I struggle to sit up to swallow down the stinging acid.
“Wesley, my acid reflux,” I gurgle out.
I’m sure he remembers those times when I bolted out of our bed, choking, to get to the bathroom. When I woke him, interrupted his sleep, and he kicked me while I lay huddled in a ball on the bathroom floor.
“Choke on it. Like that guy’s cum.”
I will myself to breathe through my nose, yanking my neck up. Through watery eyes, I see him smile at my pain.
“If you hate me so much, why the hell do you want me?” I cry.
“I don’t hate you. I love you. You just need to be taught a lesson.”
“A lesson?”
“On how to act. Be the wife I want and need.”
“Oh, being a normal human being isn’t your thing, I forgot.”
“Don’t fucking sass me. You’re tied to a damn table. I can put you in an unbelievable amount of pain.” He smirks. “Oh, right, I plan to do that anyway.”
My fractured mind wonders if he’s bringing a butcher here to give me an abortion. My babies? Oh, God. Balor. I’m so sorry. Where are you?
“Wesley, what is the doctor for?” I ask quietly.
“To laser off these tattoos.” Wesley takes out a knife. “I’ll have to find new places to carve my initials into your skin. ”
“Why?” I scoff. “If I’m never to see the light of day again.”
“Oh, you’ll see the light of day. I’ll even let you see your father. And when you do, you will be perfectly behaved. I’m going to beat the will to fight me right out of you.” His smile makes my stomach turn. “There’s no way to escape me this time, Ella. I thought I could trust you, but you ran away from me. Never again. I also used a contact at the State Department. Your passport has been invalidated. Can’t leave the country this time with your crooked old man.”
And with no driver’s license... Even if I did get away...
“Fuck you.” I pull violently against my restraints. “You’re fucking insane.”
Wesley grips my face, squeezing so hard my eyes feel ready to pop out. “And just for that, you won’t get any anesthesia to laser these tats off.”
Terror rushes through me, but I refuse to just give in. I’m not going down without a fight this time. “You don’t know who you’re really messing with by doing this to me.”
He stares at me, lips curled in a feral snarl. “Do it. Say his name. The man who knocked you up. That fucking nerd.”
“Then you know it’s Balor O’Rourke and what his family can do to you.”
Shaking his head, he says, “Oh, I know the O’Rourkes pretty well.”
“I would expect you to know criminals operating under your nose.”
“I never met Balor, but I know Riordan O’Rourke.”
Lips trembling, I stay silent.
“Do you know how I know them?” he asks.
I just give a slight head shake.
“I’ve been on the take from them for years. They trust me. I’ve kept their asses clean. That murderer brother of theirs should be in Rikers. In the psych ward.” Wes paces around the table, face going red. “I make sure all the dirty, bloody trails he leaves behind gets cleaned up. They have a warehouse where they kill people . Like the roach motel. Sleazeballs go in and never come out. Not in one piece anyway. Who do you think patrols that location and keeps other cops away?” Wesley goes on. “Me. I’m more fucking important to them than you and your bastard child.”
“That’s not true,” I scream.
Balor is in the shower waiting for me...
“You can lie to me all you want. One thing I do know about Balor is he only fucks whores. He doesn’t want a family. He has no use for you or this kid. I’m doing him a favor. Riordan O’Rourke tells me everything. And pays me well for my silence.”
“And killing his brother’s baby is going to keep you in his good graces?”
“You don’t fucking listen. Balor O’Rourke doesn’t want you. He wants his whores back. He doesn’t want kids.”
Is any of Wesley’s rant true? If he’s known the O’Rourkes for years, can he make these assumptions about how Balor feels about kids? But what about his Irish-Catholic brothers shrugging off losing one?
I’d only met them a couple of times. I was so fucking wrong about Wesley. Clearly, I can’t rely on my own judgment.
“You’re next, I promise,” Balor’s sweet sister had whispered into my ear, the sincerity rattling through me.
But she’s their innocent treasure who doesn’t work for them. Shea has nothing to do with their business.
All while my life is over.
Wesley’s phone buzzes and he smiles. “Oh good, the doctor is here.”