Chapter Three – Thea
Max gets back in just over an hour, and he says he’ll take the first watch. I’m all too happy to hand him the gun and go upstairs, mostly to put some distance between me and the dangerous man I helped kidnap.
Shit. It makes a lot more sense now why that guy at the bar, the one who wouldn’t take no for an answer, got so pale and freaked out when he saw me with Silus. I basically asked one of the most feared men in the city to pretend to be my boyfriend just to get a creep to go away.
And he did it. Let’s not forget that Silus pulled me onto his lap and kissed me so hard every nerve in my body tingled.
It’s the memory of that kiss that keeps me up as I lay in bed, staring at a dark, cracked ceiling. I’m in my pajamas: an oversized T-shirt and fuzzy shorts with adorable kittens on them. Though I’m exhausted, I couldn’t keep the club’s uniform on. Had to tear it off me as fast as I could the moment I reached my room.
The stress of the day exhausts me, so I should have no problems at all falling asleep, but sleep doesn’t come. I end up sprawled on the bed, one foot under the covers and one foot sticking out—for temperature purposes, duh—and I replay my interaction with Silus over and over in my head.
He could’ve easily told me to fuck off, but he didn’t. He almost seemed amused when I came over to him, asking him to be my boyfriend in that moment. What would he have done if he didn’t play along? A man with power like that could’ve easily gotten me fired, and then I wouldn’t be laying here in bed while there’s a mafia boss in my house.
If this works and neither of us end up dead, I really am going to kill my brother.
Okay, fine, maybe not, but I will never, ever agree to be part of one of his schemes again. This time, he got me due to the fact that our mom should get out in less than eight months, and we both agree that she needs help we can’t get in the city. She needs actual rehab, maybe even therapy, and no access to her old habits and dealers of those habits.
Money. It all comes down to money in the end.
After a while, I roll over and check my phone, and I see that two hours have passed. Two hours and I’m still wide-awake. At this rate, I won’t fall asleep before sunrise, so I might as well relieve my brother from watch duty so he can try to sleep since he has a big day coming up.
Meeting with Cormac O’Connor. The sentence almost doesn’t want to formulate in my head, that’s how crazy it sounds.
I yank my phone off the charger and roll out of bed, stuffing it into my shorts’ pocket. The house is dark, but it’s the house I grew up in, so I can navigate it easily without a speck of light. The only bit of light comes from downstairs, and I only see it once I’m halfway down the steps. I come into the living room to find my brother lounging on the couch, playing some cupcake game on his phone, the gun laying on his stomach.
When I move between him and our guest, I set my hands on my hips and glare at him, but he doesn’t notice me, too entranced in that silly little game to realize a third person is in the room.
Jesus. Silus could’ve woken up and Max wouldn’t have known.
I cough, and the action finally alerts my brother to my presence. He drops his phone and sits up, grabbing the gun with his other hand as we meet eyes. “Oh, shit,” he whispers. “It’s just you. I thought—”
“If I was one of Silus’s men coming to save his boss, you’d be dead right now.”
Max gives me a stupid grin. “Yes, but you’re not, so—”
I point to the stairs. “Go get some sleep. I’ll take watch. I can’t sleep anyway, and it’s clear you’re capable of relaxing even when you’re under a lot of stress, so you might as well just go.” I snatch the gun from him and collapse on the couch beside him.
“You’re mad now, Thea, but I’m telling you, this is our ticket out of this shitty city. You’ll see.” He jostles my shoulder once before getting up, and he doesn’t spare our guest a single look as his feet shuffle to the stairwell.
“You better fucking sleep,” I call out to him, “and not stay up all night playing that game!”
Max gives me a middle finger before heading upstairs.
With a sigh, I turn my focus to our guest. He hasn’t moved an inch, mostly because he’s restrained with an ungodly amount of duct tape and handcuffs, but also because he’s still passed out, his head slumped forward.
If he could never wake up, that’d be great.
No, wait. If he never wakes up, that means he’s dead, and then Max and I will have a host of different problems to deal with and be out of the money we would’ve gotten for him. No dead mafia bosses in my house, please.
Unlike Max, I don’t play any mindless games on my phone. I get bored of the silence after a while, so I do turn the TV on—though I turn the volume down real low. Max and I don’t have cable, and we only pay for streaming services when there are deals. Right now, there’s nothing, which leaves us with whatever we can grab for free from the air with the antenna.
Seriously, the best thirty dollars we ever spent. We get local news and a bunch of other broadcasted channels. The only problem now, however, is that it’s so late at night, or so early in the morning, depending on how you look at it, is that nothing’s really on. Basically, it becomes nothing but background noise, but at least it helps me stay calm, gives me something else to pay attention to besides the large, dangerous man a few feet away.
I find some channel that only does reruns of a show where people bid on storage units without knowing what’s inside. It’s the most interesting thing I’ll come across at this hour, so I leave it on that channel.
It’s actually an interesting show. There’s some weird shit out there people buy and store away, forget about, and then either die or stop paying on their unit. This one unit has an entire golf simulator in it.
Who the hell needs something like that? People with money, man. They’re ridiculous.
A groan fills the air, and the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. My gaze is on the TV, but that groan… it was a manly groan, the kind of groan a man might make when he’s starting to wake up after being drugged. As I let out a shaky breath, my back straightens and I slowly tear my eyes away from the TV and bring them to our guest.
To Silus fucking McLean.
He’s in the process of slowly lifting his head, his dark brows furrowed but his eyes still closed. His shoulders snap into place as he tries to move his arms, but when he realizes he can’t, his eyelids sluggishly lift—and when they do, those pitch-black eyes of his instantly find me.
I cannot emphasize this enough, but fuck .
“You,” Silas mutters, still out of it. His gaze is glassy, a little unfocused even though he’s staring at me. I don’t know what it’s like to wake up after being drugged, but I can’t imagine you bounce back like a spring flower after a late snow.
All I can think of to say is an awkward, “Hi.”
Should I get Max? No. I’m going to have to deal with this guy sooner or later, as much as I don’t want to, so might as well get over the initial awkwardness now.
“What…” Finally, he looks around, at our house, or what he can see of it from where he sits. “Where am I?”
“Uh, you’re at my house.”
“Why? What did you…” He swallows and shakes his head a bit, as if he’s trying to mentally push off a headache. “What did you do to me?” With each word he speaks, he sounds as though he’s regaining his composure, and I know it’s only a matter of time until he’s all threatening and murderous.
Can’t blame him, since we drugged and kidnapped him.
“I slipped something into your drink,” I slowly say. “Sorry about that, by the way. I, uh, didn’t know you were the target until after I—” I stop myself from saying it. It’s possible Silus doesn’t even remember.
But his next words, with how viciously they’re whispered, tells me he remembers it all: “Needed a knight in shining armor?” The corners of his mouth quirk into a devilish smile when he adds, “You’re welcome for that, by the way.”
The intensity he had at the club is back in full-force now, and it’s hard for me to look at his face without letting my gaze drop to his mouth. “Uh, yeah, thanks.”
Silus leans his head back and tries at his restraints again, but the handcuffs don’t give, nor does the mountain of duct tape wrapped around his chest. “Is this how you repay every stranger who does you a favor? Not what I had in mind, but I am intrigued.” The way he talks, it sounds like he believes this is some sort of joke.
When I don’t say anything, Silus goes on, “If you wanted to tie me up, all you had to do was ask. I am your boyfriend, after all.” He smiles harder after that, and that smile nails me in place.
I don’t really know how to respond to him, so I stammer out, “Thank you for helping me back at the club, but—”
“Is that my gun there? Tell me, love, do you even know how to use it?”
I hate the way my body reacts when he calls me that. It takes everything in me to glare at him and say, “Yes, I know how to use a gun, thank you very much.” Attitude seeps into my reply before I can help it.
“Feisty. Now, tell me why I’m here, in your house, why you drugged me and why I’m now subjected to a pounding headache.” Silus still grins like he knows something I don’t. “What is it you hope to gain from this? Can’t say I’ve ever had someone try to kidnap me before. Kill me, yes, all the time, but kidnap ? This is a first.”
I don’t see a point in lying to him. “We want to sell you to Cormac O’Connor.”
A muscle in his jaw tenses, and I hate to admit it, but it’s damn near the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen in my life. “You’re selling me to Cormac O’Connor? Really? I assume that means this is about money. A pity. There could’ve been a much easier way to go about this.”
“Oh, yeah? So if I asked you for a cool four-hundred thousand, you would’ve given it to me?”
“Oh, love, I hope you’re selling me for more than that—but yes, it’s what a good boyfriend does, help out his girl whenever he can. You said ‘we.’ Who else is there?”
“That’s none of your business.”
“I certainly hope it’s not another man trying to take you away from me, because then we’re going to have a problem.”
I can’t believe this guy. “Do you always make jokes when you’re in situations like this?”
“I already told you: I’ve never been kidnapped before. This is as new to me as it must surely be for you. I have to say, I am impressed you and whoever you’re working with pulled it off, but you have to know my people will find me sooner or later, so I hope you’re arranging a meeting with Cormac soon.”
“We have it handled.”
His observant reply comes swiftly, “Just like you had the creep at the bar handled, hmm? No. Here’s what I think: you’re in over your head and you know it. You might not have known who I was at the club, but you do now, so you know how big the pile of shit you just stepped in is. You think you have no choice but to go along with this silly plan of selling me to Cormac, but let me tell you what would happen if you go through with it.”
Silus’s gaze narrows at me as he tells me, “You may get your money, but I will do everything in my power to kill every single man that stands between me and my freedom. You might believe you can run, that in leaving this city behind you can put to rest this chapter of your life, but I will stop at nothing until I find you and make you and whoever else you’re working with regret selling me.”
The way he says it, so simply, as if killing countless men wouldn’t be more taxing than a flick of his wrist, makes my stomach churn.
“Or,” he says, “you can come to your senses and realize what a foolish idea this was to start with, and you can bring that cute little ass of yours over here and help me out of these cuffs and this ridiculous amount of tape. You can let me go, and I’ll leave this house without spilling a drop of blood.”
I don’t say a word, mostly because I don’t know what to say. Even tied up as he is, every word he speaks still sounds like a threat, a promise of future violence, and though a part of me is anxious and maybe even scared, I’m also weirdly turned on.
He’s hot, okay? Forgive me for not thinking clearly.
Silus smirks harder as he says, “I suppose there’s also a third outcome: you don’t release me, but my brother and my men find me before the sale can happen and you hand me over to Cormac. They would gladly kill anyone who stands in the way, including you, love—but don’t worry, I wouldn’t let them. Do you know what I’d do then?”
God, I wish this guy would stop talking. Why couldn’t he have stayed knocked out for a bit longer? I swallow hard before I mutter, “What?”
“I’d grab you, throw you over my shoulder, and take you with me. It’d only be fair, wouldn’t it? You kidnapped me so I kidnap you—though, I think, if I tied you down, I wouldn’t leave your clothes on.”
My cheeks burn after I hear that, and I have to look away from him in an effort to regain my composure. If a random guy said something like that to me, I’d be sketched out and want nothing to do with him. But this guy… he’s anything but random.
“You know, the more that I think about it, the more I like that option better than number two, so how about this: you bring your cute little ass over here and let me go now, and I promise your time with me will be short. If, however, my brother and my men find me, I might just keep you forever. Is that what you want?”
My body wants to scream yes, but for obvious reasons, my mind is saying a harsh no.
Silus then asks me a question so out of the blue, I have to look at him: “What time is it?”
“Uh, just after three in the morning,” I say after looking at the time on my phone. “Why?”
“For every hour you keep me here, I’ll take a month of your life, so I suggest you take a moment and think to yourself if this is really what you want.”
He’s threatening me, saying he’s going to kidnap me. I can’t say I don’t deserve it, but he’s a freaking mafia boss, so it isn’t like he’s the picture of perfection. He’s a bad man, and honestly this is what he deserves.
I have to keep telling myself that.
I get up and walk over to him. I set a hand on the chair behind him, and in doing so I lean over him with my best tough persona. My other hand still holds onto his gun. “For a guy who’s pretty much tied up and helpless, you talk an awful big game,” I whisper. “Maybe you should shut up.”
The whole time, Silus never breaks eye contact with me, nor does his smirk fade. “You want to know what I think?”
Being this close to him, I can smell him, and damn it to hell, the man smells good. Like I want to bury my face against him and breathe him in. Musky and manly in all the ways to drive me crazy.
“Not particularly, but I have the feeling you’re going to tell me anyway,” I whisper, losing my bravo in spite of myself.
He flashes me a set of perfect pearly whites. “I think I’m going to have a lot of fun with you.” Even though he’s clearly not in the position of power in this situation, it feels like, somehow, he switched our roles and suddenly I’m the one sitting on the chair with his large body looming over mine. “And you know what else?”
My breath catches, and I have to lean the hand with the gun against my hip, otherwise my arm trembles so much it’s noticeable.
“I think you’re going to enjoy it just as much as me,” he whispers, his voice taking on a husky tone that makes me shiver.
I push away from him and mutter, “Shut up. Just… stop talking.” I give him my back as I return to the couch, a frown on my face. If I don’t frown, I fear what I’ll do. That man… he’s worse than dangerous, but I can’t deny the way a simple look from him makes my mind leap firmly into the gutter.
Like, yeah, I’d love for that man to do unspeakable things to me, but no, I don’t want him to kidnap me. I’m not that far gone.
Nice try, though.
When I sit on the couch, he’s still staring at me, smirking. It takes every ounce of willpower in me to not pay attention to him and to watch the storage show on the TV.
I shouldn’t have the hots for someone like Silus McLean. First off is the obvious: he’s a mafia boss, and therefore the things he’s done no God could ever forgive. I don’t want to know how many people he’s killed. Secondly, he’s our mark. Our target. He’s basically a big bag of money waiting to be cashed in.
The third thing? The third thing might just be the worst: he’s in his thirties.
He’s old.