CHAPTER TWELVE
– QUINN –
I’m drowsy, my head hurts, my mouth feels like cotton, and waves of nausea are hitting me hard. I try to swallow at the dryness in my throat while I squeeze my eyes shut in an effort to focus through the hazy cloud my brain is stuck in.
“Open your eyes. You should take a few sips of water,” a voice states from my left.
A jolt of fear hits me, and I instantly regret jolting up right while I stare at the unknown man beside the bed I’m in. I’m in a bed? The room doesn’t seem familiar, and it’s definitely no hospital room.
“Who are you?” I snap and wince at the dull ache echoing inside my head.
His hands go into the air, palms facing me. “I’m a doctor.” He points at the glass of water on the bedside table. “You should drink something.”
My gaze glides to the open leather bag at his feet, showing different medical things.
At this point there’s not much to lose since I already feel like shit, have no clue where I am, and judging from his bag with medical stuff.
..I think this guy is telling the truth.
Taking the glass, I sip and let the cool water slide down my dry throat.
At least I don’t have to worry about this guy drugging me since I just woke up, right? A flow of images shoots through my brain and I become aware of the last things I remember right before everything went dark...then I woke up in this room.
Shit. I place the glass back on the bedside table with a little too much force, making the rest of the water spatter up. I jump off the bed on the other side and have to place my hands on the mattress due to the wave of nausea and unsteady legs.
“Where’s my brother?” I snap and point at his bag. “Did you tend to him as well? Is he in a room next to me? Tell me.”
The man looks confused and starts to shake his head. “I don’t know who you’re talking about. I was called to come here for you.”
There’s a knock on the door and it instantly swings open.
A guy steps in the room and rumbles, “Everything okay here?”
“I want to go home.” Firming my voice, I snap with a load of determination, “I’m going home.”
The guy who just entered the room glances at the doctor. “She okay?”
“Fine for now, better if she takes it easy for the next few hours, preferably gets some sleep, and some fluids inside her along with some food.”
The guy nods. “We’ll handle it.”
The doctor grabs his bag and they exchange some hushed words before he leaves.
“Nice. That guy went home, now it’s my turn.” I take a step toward the door and the fucker shuts it.
He leans against the door as if he’s the muscle to guard the exit. “Sorry, doll. I have orders to keep you here. I just received more orders from the doc, and with it so did you. Get your sweet ass back into the bed and I’ll make sure you’ll get something to drink and eat.”
I don’t have time to throw words at him, or so much as punch the stupid grin off his face when he slips out of the room. Dammit. The distinctive sound of a lock sliding in place lets me know it’s useless to try and open the door.
Will it stop me from trying to escape? Nope. I go for the whole rattling the doorknob, screaming curse words along with demands meltdown. I keep going until my throat hurts and eventually step back to glance around me, hoping to come up with a backup plan to escape.
I take a few wobbly steps in the direction of the door on the other side of the room. It’s a bathroom and I slip inside to splash some water on my face. I keep my wrists under the cold stream and sigh in relief.
When I stumble back into the room, I notice a tray filled with food, along with two bottles of water and a soda can. Why didn’t I hear anyone come in when I was in the bathroom? The door was open, right? A sigh rips from me. I’m so damn tired and my brain is still fuzzy.
I check the sandwich and it looks edible.
Once I devour it, I eat another one and down a bottle of water in one go.
Placing the tray on the desk in the corner, I return to the bed and lay down.
My head hurts, my brain is still foggy, and my body feels completely drained.
There’s nothing else for me to do but sleep.
My eyes fall shut and I instantly drift off. I have no clue what time it is when I wake up. The room is dark and the curtains are still open, which means it’s nighttime. Stretching, I sit up and glance around. The suitcases near the door make my eyes widen.
I recognize them as mine and jump out of the bed to check. Holy shit. Cillian’s men not only kidnapped me, they cleared out my bedroom. Does Bri think I went home to my father? Is that the reason they brought all my things? She wouldn’t believe I’d just leave, would she?
My chest tightens as I stare at my belongings.
Will anyone miss me? Bri is my only friend, my father clearly couldn’t care less, and my brother.
..my brother. I have no clue if Cillian was telling the truth, but if he was, it means my brother is still alive.
Which means my father lied. Not such a shocker, all my life he’s either not told me shit, given half-truths, or straight up lied.
Cillian can’t be trusted either. He gets rid of bodies when shit goes wrong during an underground fight. That right there raises multiple red flags. I need to get out of here. Scanning the room once again I let my mind drift to the fact I have absolutely nowhere to go if I do manage to escape.
I fall back onto the bed and cover my face with my hands. What the hell am I going to do? Emotions start to overwhelm me. My eyes sting and I feel the tears spilling down the side of my face. Two months ago, I still had a grip on my life, my future...and now?
A sob rips from me and a wave of nausea makes the bile burn the back of my throat. I rush to the bathroom where my knees hit the tile and I barely manage to lift the toilet seat to puke my guts out.
What the hell did they give me when they kidnapped me? I groan and reach out to flush. Placing my forehead on the toilet seat to take a few deep breaths, I try like hell to calm my overheating body. Pushing myself up, I stumble to the sink and rinse my mouth with water.
A new toothbrush catches my attention along with toothpaste. Snatching both, I quickly brush my teeth. Feeling like shit and knowing I can’t get out of this room, I grab some clean clothes from my suitcase and return to the bathroom.
I take a long shower and feel somewhat better when I’m in my own clean, comfy clothes. Though, I still have the same problem I had when I woke up. Dammit. How long have I been here? And where the hell is here?
My stomach churns and I place a hand on my stomach to breathe through the heated wave of nausea flowing through me. I’m about to go to the bathroom in case I do need to puke when I catch movement near the door. My breathing picks up and I stumble back when I see a man entering the room.
“You,” I whisper in shock.
I can’t watch the smirk on his face when the bile rises in my throat and I’m yet again running into the bathroom. This time I dry heave a few times and nothing comes out. I spit and groan when I rise and flush the toilet. Going to the sink, I rinse my mouth and yet again brush my teeth.
“How long has this been going on?” His voice is cold and unaffected.
What in the hell is Fiero doing here?
“Why do you care?” I grumble and turn to face him. “Are you friends with Cillian?”
My mind is running with so many options and freezes at an eerie thought.
Swallowing against the nausea, I ask, “Did he sell me to you for another fantasy deal? Are you two working together?”
His jaw tics and those blue eyes pin me in place when he calmly states, “Cillian will be dead soon for touching what’s mine. So, no. He’s not a friend, and I’m the only one making fantasy deals. Though, I normally don’t participate.”
“Normally,” I echo.
I get a slight dip of his chin. “Too many complications, but I’ve never encountered a...complication like we have now.”
“We have a complication?” Is he insane? “I’m the only one with a fucking complication because Cillian kidnapped me. Or was it you?”
Again, with the indifference when he calmly states, “Cillian intended to kidnap you, but I arrived in time to intervene.”
I blink a few times at his weird statement.
“The almost kidnapping isn’t a complication. I will handle Cillian. The complication I’m talking about concerns the results of your blood test.”
“My blood test?” Ugh, it feels like I keep echoing parts of his sentences.
Fiero nods. “You’re pregnant.”
For the third time, I rush into the bathroom and hug the toilet.