Chapter Five
ISLA
I scream and kick in the trunk until my voice is hoarse and my muscles ache.
It feels like we’ve been driving for a long time, but with the dark and the quiet, I can’t make out anything but the low murmur of their voices, and not even much of that.
I have to take long, slow breaths through my nostrils not to hyperventilate. I don’t need to pass out.
How much oxygen is in a trunk, anyway? Oh god, what are they going to do to me?
This is not worth it. This story is not worth my life.
I don’t want to die…
What was I thinking, going to this gala?
I now know why the name Dare Kavanagh was so familiar.
He works for Liam, all right. Liam Hayes. And boy, have I heard of Liam Hayes. He is rumored to be the dark prince of the Irish mob.
There isn’t much about him out there. A few articles, a few arrest records.
I knew there was a possibility that some of the Irish underground would be there, but what were the odds I’d get entangled with them? I’m no one.
I live for my job, sure, but I’m not that good yet that I would uncover anything major at the gala. I hoped I could find some connections, get some key contacts, but nothing like this.
And the worst part is, I really liked Dare.
And now I’m going to die. Or be tortured. Or…
I shiver.
What I have to do is fucking run. Run as if my life depended on it, because it probably does.
I stop screaming. I need to preserve both my breath and my strength if I want to have any chance at this.
Too soon, we arrive at our destination.
The motor cuts off. A second car comes to a stop close by.
Doors open and close.
“Open it.”
I can tell it’s Dare, I recognize his voice.
I close my eyes and let my head fall to the side.
I have to think of something fast, and maybe me being ‘passed out’ will catch them off-guard and give me a head start.
The trunk opens, and I remain as still as possible as my heart gallops in my chest.
“How the fuck did she get knocked out?” The voice sounds worried, and I assume it’s the brooding one from the elevator. Uh… Cillian.
“Maybe it was the stress. Or exhaustion. It’s not like she wasn’t screaming her head off halfway here!” This is Liam, I think.
But why do they sound so affected? Aren’t they kidnapping me? So, me passing out should be nothing to any of them.
I mean, I’m all tied up and everything. That doesn’t scream ‘concerned citizens’ to me.
A shadow falls over me, and I open my eyes and push myself up, nearly knocking over Dare and falling out onto the hard ground.
I gasp, looking up at him and scrambling backward. I hit the bumper of the car.
There’s nowhere to go.
“Listen, a ghrá—”
“Don’t you dare call me that.” I look around with wide eyes, trying to keep my bearings. “Where am I? Where have you taken me?”
“We’re not going to hurt you,” Cillian says quietly, but he doesn’t look convinced and neither am I.
“Okay, listen here, Maggie,” Liam orders, and I glare at him.
“Who the fuck is Maggie? You’ve got the wrong girl. I’m Isla.” I point to Dare. “Ask him. We met.”
Liam crosses his arms over his chest. “Right. Because traitors never lie about who they are.”
“Traitors?” My heart speeds up and my breath comes short.
What the hell is happening here? Who is this Maggie? And why do they think I am here?
I look all around.
There’s no way out. And I have no idea where I even am.
“Don’t even think about running. It’ll be worse for you.” Liam points toward the cottage. “In the house. Now.”
I stare up at him for a long moment, and when Dare takes my arm, I wrench away from him.
“Don't touch me,” I snarl.
Something passes over Dare’s face, too quick to recognize.
I stalk toward the cottage and look up at the fairy lights strewn along the top of the door.
It’s a strange safehouse, the cozy home. Maybe they’re planning to kill me here.
My breath catches in my throat as I walk into the house, and I hate that I’m trembling.
I cross my arms over my chest, fighting back the tears that threaten at the backs of my eyes. I will not cry in front of these lunatics.
“A-are you going to kill me?” I hate the stutter in my voice and hug myself tighter as the three men surround me, like predators coming in for their prey.
“No,” Dare says, while the other two remain silent. It doesn’t exactly fill me with confidence.
“Then what do you want from me?”
Liam scoffs. “Cut the act, Maggie. We know who you are and what you’ve done.”
“Didn’t you hear me before? My name is Isla.”
“This is a waste of our time.” Liam doesn’t even look at me. “Get her back in the trunk. We’re taking her straight to Da.”
Dare holds his arms up. “Come on, man, think about it. You know what will happen the second we walk in there with her. Can you live with that?”
“I’m starting to think I can.”
Dare lowers his arms and shakes his head. “Why don’t we just keep her here for today? We can interrogate her.”
“Interrogate her? What else do you need to know other than she is a traitor, Dare?”
Dare huffs out a breath.
Oh. I’m in deep shit.
“The code, man. Remember?... Even Cillian abides by the code.”
Code? What code? And even Cillian? What does that mean?
I glance over at Cillian, and he’s just standing there, shoulders stiff, looking into space. It’s like he doesn’t even know I’m here.
I scan my surroundings, trying to get my bearings.
I was in that trunk for what felt like hours, but it couldn’t have been. The moon is still high outside, and it was nearly midnight when I was taken.
The house is small, it looks like two bedrooms. There are two exits—the front door, which Cillian is standing near, and the back door where Liam and Dare are.
Essentially, there’s no way out.
They keep arguing, going in circles.
It appears Dare wants me to stay here. He doesn’t want me harmed or killed.
Liam wants me dealt with as soon as possible.
I guess I know where he stands on me retaining the ability to keep breathing.
And Cillian? Well, he clearly doesn’t give a shit about any of it.
I want to scream at them, tell them I’m Isla, a reporter. That I was only even at the stupid gala because of my story.
But would that help or hurt my chances?
It’s not like the Irish mob wants reporters sniffing around.
I look around again, hoping to find something different, but fear descends over me like a hot blanket. I’m trembling all over from the adrenaline, and I wonder if I’m fast enough to get to the door before Cillian catches me.
He’s not really paying attention to me anyway...
Fuck it.
I rush for the door and get my hand on the doorknob.
Cillian’s hand closes around my wrist, making me freeze.
“You know you scarred me with those nails of yours,” he murmurs, and a rush of fear and... something else runs through me. “If you don’t want matching ones, you better play nice.”
There’s something in his voice that tells me he means it.
I swallow hard and turn around.
Cillian breathes slowly, chest moving up and down, scratches across his forearm in the shape of my nails. He’s broader than I realized, tall and looming over me.
My breath catches in my throat, and I can’t help feeling just a tiny bit... aroused, pleasure swelling in my lower stomach.
What the hell is wrong with me?
“Look, I don’t know how many times I have to say this, but my name isn’t Maggie,” I say through gritted teeth. “I’m Isla, remember? Introduced myself in the elevator before you kidnapped me.”
He scoffs, shaking his head. “I know who you are, Maggie Sullivan.”
He reaches behind him, and my heart drops into my stomach.
Is he going to pull a gun?
Cillian pulls out his phone instead, showing me a picture.
“Are you going to try and tell me this isn’t you?” His voice is short and serious.
I peer at the picture, narrowing my eyes before widening them.
It’s uncanny. She really does look like me. We could be sisters.
“Her cheeks are rounder. And she doesn’t have the scar.” I tilt my chin up to show him the long scar under my chin from falling off my bike and my chin hitting the curb.
He barely looks at the scar. “Nice try. You probably got that in the weeks you’ve been running. Lost some weight, too.”
Dare and Liam have moved into another room, and all I can hear are their low voices, not quite making anything out.
I’m so terrified I can’t think straight, but the adrenaline is keeping me sharp.
He’s close, so close I could lean up and plant a kiss on his full mouth.
I take my nail and slowly slide it across his chest.
“We could work this out, you know?” I hope my voice doesn’t sound as desperate as it is.
It’s not like I’m actually going to sleep with the guy to get out of here, but if I buy some time...
He snorts. “Are you really going to try that after you did this?” He lifts his arm to show me the scratches. “Because if you are, prepare to be punished. I don’t tolerate bad girls.”
A shiver runs through me, and not all of it is fear.
“I was startled.” I pout. “Wouldn’t anyone lash out?”
His light green eyes search my face. “Yes. Especially a traitor like you.”
His voice is soft but almost dangerous, and he smells like sweat and pine. God, he’s handsome, the way his jaw clenches as he looks down at me.
They are all handsome, but that doesn’t change the fact that I’m in big fucking trouble.
And my seduction skills do not seem to be working.
“How do I prove to you that I’m not this Maggie person? I suppose you won’t accept any picture ID like my passport.”
He shrugs. “Easy enough to fake those.”
I huff out a breath, the tears threatening to spill over.
“I’m not her!” My voice breaks, tears spilling down my cheeks as fear takes over.
Cillian looks almost bored, but there’s something flashing in his eyes when he looks at me. “Are you done with the waterworks?”
“Fuck you,” I manage, but it’s weak and broken.
“Not happening,” Cillian says with a sigh, his Irish lilt obvious.
I take a shuddering breath, trying not to break down.
It’s going to be okay. You can talk your way out of this.
I can talk my way out of anything.
Right?