Chapter Thirteen
ISLA
I eat the sandwich slowly, wanting to make it last. They’re not exactly feeding me three meals a day, after all. And I’m one of those annoying people with a fast metabolism, so I eat a lot. But as long as they keep feeding me at all, I’m good.
I just want to get out of this alive.
I look across the table to Cillian.
“You don’t talk much.”
“You never stop talking.” His voice is a weird mix of irritated and somehow, tender?
Maybe I’m cracking his shell finally.
I shrug. “Yeah, my dad used to call me Chatty Cathy.”
“He’s gone?” His voice softens.
I shake my head. “No, nothing like that. He just lives on the West Coast. I’m not exactly close to him.”
He goes silent, and something passes over his face.
Now I’m curious. “What about you? Any family?”
“Just Liam and Ronan. I’m the brother he never wanted.” He shrugs, his lips tilting slightly up.
“Yeah, it seems like you guys just argue all the time.”
“We really don’t,” he mutters, staring down at his half-eaten sandwich. “It’s just you.”
“Are you trying to say I’m trouble?”
He looks up at me. “If the shoe fits...”
I really shouldn’t be thinking of seducing Cillian. Or Liam.
This kidnapping thing is messing with my hormones. That’s got to be it.
But what if I did seduce one of them? Who should I go for?
I loved my time with Dare, but I know it won’t happen again. Besides, all thought about running away just melted when his giant cock entered me.
With Cillian, I don’t think attempting to seduce him would get me anywhere. I was right in front of him, nearly showing him my breasts, and he didn’t even blink.
I look across at him now.
He’s eating and not paying me any mind. His jaw works as he chews, a seemingly permanent five o’clock shadow covering it and his strong chin.
Cillian’s hot, but also cold. It’s like there’s something simmering just below the surface. Something maybe I would be curious to find out if circumstances were different. If my life was not on the line. If he wasn’t the likely candidate to pull the trigger on me.
Because, sure, all of them said they wouldn’t hurt me, but they are not the boss, are they? So, what happens if Ronan orders them to torture me? Or kill me?
Will they do it?
Will he?
He’s certainly talking a lot more than when we first met. Of course, when we met, I was screaming and he was putting me in a trunk, so there wasn’t much room to talk.
Why am I thinking about Cillian as if I want something from him? As if I want him?
Isn’t it enough that Dare and I hooked up?
God, it’s all I can think about. Experiencing that feeling again. The way he’d stretched me out...
But the worst part? I don’t just think about Dare. I wonder what’s in Cillian’s pants, if there’s a monster in there like Dare’s hiding. And Liam? What could he be packing?
God, why am I thinking about them like this? This isn’t me.
It’s like I can't stop thinking about sex. But not just sex. Sex with them.
But when I really think about it, that morning with Dare was the first time I’ve had sex in... God, it’s been years.
Not since Scott, and that was… my senior year in college, I think?
How have I denied myself pleasure for that long?
It’s not even like Scott and I had some big bad end or anything. He got a job in California, and I wanted to stay on the east coast. It’s really that simple.
So, when he left, I focused on my career and forgot about putting myself first once in a while, I guess.
“How was your sandwich?” Cillian’s voice startles me.
I’m surprised he spoke first. I’ve been carrying the whole conversation all day.
“Good. I’m usually a PB and J kind of gal, but that roast beef really hit the spot.”
“You know you can have whatever you want in the kitchen, right?”
“I didn’t. Thank you.”
It’s nice to be able to get snacks on my own. But if I’m allowed in the kitchen whenever I please, I guess they’ve removed all the sharp things in here already. They’re always two steps ahead of me, it seems.
I stand up and place my plate in the sink.
“I’m going to watch some television, if that is okay?”
Cillian grunts, and I head to the living room, lying down on the couch and resting my head against the armrest.
I expect him to stay in the kitchen, but instead, he walks in to sit in the recliner across from me, watching me intently as I watch some stupid reality television show about the rich elite in Texas.
After a few minutes of pretending to watch the show, I sit up straight. “Can I ask you a question?”
Cillian groans. “You’re going to ask it no matter what I say, so go ahead.”
“Are you... rich like Liam?”
“Like Liam? Not exactly.” He gives me a small, predatory smile, showing his even, white teeth. It makes me shiver.
“What do you mean, not exactly?”
“I do well for myself. I own a restaurant and a contracting business outside of town.”
“So, you’re a billionaire, too?”
He flushes, the first time I’ve seen him do so. “Aye.”
Unless Dare happens to be the only one of them without money, I’ve been kidnapped by three mobsters who also happen to be billionaires.
“Killing people must make you a lot of money.”
“It used to. Nowadays, I stick to contracting.”
Is he lying? It seems like he is, since he won’t keep my gaze. Or maybe he’s just ashamed. I haven’t done as much research on Cillian as I have Liam. And it’s not like I did all that much research on Liam to start with. Just enough to know who he was at the gala, in case our paths crossed.
And look at me now. Not only have they crossed, they have merged in a way that I can’t escape.
What am I supposed to do now? These men will keep me locked up until the order comes for them to torture and kill me, and sick, perverted me can only think about them inside me.
Why am I so sick? What is wrong with me? Why do I wan—
“Are you finally done talking?”
I’m surprised into a laugh. “Yeah, yeah. I’m done talking. Sorry.”
“You don’t have to apologize.” His voice is low and comforting.
I stare back at the TV. We’re halfway through the first episode of this show, and it’s full of drama. Yet, I can’t focus on anything other than the man sitting across from me.
This is how I normally relax, but without a huge man watching me like a hawk.
There’d be no way to slip away from him. I’d never make it to the door.
I remember how fast he is, how strong, how he dragged me to the car. How strong his arms felt around me. How hard his body was when he was holding me against him.
Arousal pools in my stomach, and I hate myself.
Do I have Stockholm syndrome? Is that what this is?
If Cillian wasn’t my prison warden, if this wasn’t about my survival, I’d probably like him. Dare, too. I hadn’t seduced him so much as he’d seduced me, if I’m honest with myself.
And even Liam, who’s cruel and rough and all dark clouds, has a certain charm about him.
My eyes drift shut, heavy as the droning voices on the TV lull me, and when I wake up, it’s dark out.
I yawn and open my eyes, realizing a soft blanket has been thrown over me as I lay on the couch.
Cillian.
I find it oddly sweet.
The man is a silent, lethal weapon. For as much as I talked to him today, he kept his words to a bare minimum, keeping his distance. And now this?
Am I making a chink in his armor? Or is there a secret side to him that is worthy of trying to fight to unearth from deep inside him?
I sit up slowly and realize Cillian is still in the recliner, watching television. The same show I was watching, but a few episodes in.
I grin slowly. “Did you get into it?”
“Huh?” He turns to face me, his face slightly flushed. “No. No, I’m not watching. Just sitting here.”
“Theresa really needs to drop Ian and go for David.”
“What? No, she doesn’t. Ian is the best, he loves her.”
I smirk at him.
Cillian groans. “You were testing me, weren’t you?”
“Knew you were watching.”
He breathes out slowly through his nostrils. “There was nothing else to do.”
Not like you have a tiny computer in your pocket or a remote to change channels.
But I don’t say it. I don’t want to push my luck.
Cillian and I seem to be in a good place right now. I’ve developed a small rapport, and I don’t want to ruin all the progress I’ve made.
But what I have done is make a decision.
I have to give a little to get a little, and hopefully I can convince them that I am not this Maggie person... that is if I give them a little more.
I take a deep breath.
“I want you to call the guys. I’ve decided to confess.”
Cillian starts. “You’ve decided to finally come clean?”
I shrug. “It’s about time, isn’t it?”
Cillian watches me, slowly standing up and taking his phone out of his pocket. “This isn’t some trick, is it?”
“I know you’re too fast for me. I can’t go anywhere.”
Even though he has to know that I can’t escape, he watches me as he makes the call.
His light green eyes on me send a shudder of arousal through me.
“Boss? Maggie wants to confess.”
He listens for a moment.
“Aye. See you soon.” Then he disconnects the call. “They’re on the way,” he grunts, pacing around the room, looking through the curtains and waiting for them.
There’s an awkward silence, but for once, I don’t try to fill it. I’m actually terrified that this isn’t going to work. That somehow, they’ll still keep thinking I’m this Maggie bitch forever, and I’ll never get away.
It’s only about half an hour before Liam and Dare arrive, both of them coming inside.
Dare looks nervous, his forest green eyes bright, but Liam looks almost bored.
“What is it that you wanted to tell us, a ghrá?” Dare asks in a soft voice, and Liam just stares at me as the door swings shut behind them.
I take a deep, shuddering breath. It’s now or never.
“My name isn’t Isla Waters. But it isn’t Maggie Sullivan, either. I’m Isla Quinn.”