Chapter Seventeen
ISLA
When I wake up alone, I feel confused and discombobulated. The moment I open my eyes, though, I remember where I am—Liam and Cillian’s childhood home.
I was taken against my will by men who thought I was someone else, had to fight for my life as I tried to convince them I was the wrong woman, and then somehow the three men who took me made love to me.
I can’t believe I agreed to be their pet, but honestly, what choice did I have? It was either that or death.
And yet, all the same, I can’t say that I hate it. I can’t say that I didn’t absolutely love every minute of last night.
Surely, it’s a one-time thing, right? All of them, like that?
It makes me kind of sad I didn’t enjoy it more.
God, and then Cillian... he was so... passionate. Unlike I imagined. I thought he’d be the roughest one, but really, that’s Liam.
And Liam made me come so hard I saw stars, so I can’t complain about that, either.
I was always a one-man woman, never cheated, never wanted flings or one-night stands. I was always into the deep relationships, even if they were few. But after last night, I have to wonder…
Am I sluttier than I thought I was?
Because three men is way more than I can handle, and when the three take me as one, I should want to run away and hide. But deep down, I really hope it wasn’t a fluke. Deep down, I hope we can all be together again.
God, I am a slut. But only for these three men who drive me up the wall.
I slowly stand up, feeling sore all over, and put on a pair of high-waisted shorts and a t-shirt I find in the dresser. I still have no idea whose clothes I’m wearing, but I guess I’ll find out in due time.
I have no idea if Liam was serious about killing me, but not only don’t I want to risk it, I also want to see where this goes.
They’ll have to let me go, eventually, and until then, I can work on gathering information for my article.
The scoop I was thinking about with the billionaires is nothing compared to busting the Irish mob in the area wide open. Imagine the headlines.
I walk—well, limp–into the living room to see Dare lying on the couch, snoring like a bear. I guess after I fell asleep, Cillian and Liam either left or took the other bedroom.
I’m a little sad I didn’t wake up with Cillian, but I try to push it away.
It’s not like I have feelings for any of them. It’s not like I’m going to fall for any of them. They kidnapped me. They’ve kept me prisoner here for days. And sure, they are attractive, like way too attractive, but I can’t be the person who falls for her captors.
I have goals in life, I have self-worth, I have a life waiting for me out there.
My eyes fly to the door. Closed but unlocked. Then to the sleeping man on the couch.
I could leave. I could go right now, escape. But my legs won’t move.
I tell myself my journalistic ambitions are stronger than my survival instincts. Than my will to repeat last night at least once more before I have to say goodbye to these men forever and go into hiding.
A picture of my mother, the two black eyes my father had given her, flashes through my mind.
Da was on the life. He had always doted on me, never laid a hand on me, but Ma? She was his punching bag, where he took out all the daily frustrations.
She warned me from the moment I could understand her to run from this life. From the people in it. From the prison, the shackles that come with being tied to someone from the mob.
Looking at her battered face and body, I listened, I nodded, I promised her. And for the longest time, I kept my word.
But fate pulled my leg and delivered me at the devil’s door.
And stupid, stupid me, instead of taking this chance to run far and fast, wants to stay. Because I’m horny. Because they give the best orgasms. Because I want to know where this goes. At least until I can write my article and let the world know the truth.
Maybe it’s time to stand up and take a stand—not just against the men who kidnapped me, but against my father. Against men who believe the women they claim to love are nothing but property they can use and abuse without consequence.
And the three men who took me are just as bad.
Right?
Right!
I sit down gently on the edge of the couch, and Dare stirs, snorting himself awake. Instantly, he puts his arms around my waist, pulling me against him on the couch, nuzzling against the back of my neck.
I hum, his touch igniting things in me I thought were long dead.
Why are these the men who make me feel like this?
But then again, am I any better than them?
I want them to open to me, to tell me all I need to know, but I lied to them about my name and who I was.
I’m still lying about my family. My deadbeat father is in the wind, and my mother passed a few years ago.
But if they think someone’s looking for me, they might not kill me. At least, that was the reason at first.
“Good morning, a ghrá,” Dare murmurs, voice raspy with sleep.
Arousal pools in my belly as he sweeps his hand up my hip, leaving it possessively on my upper thigh, squeezing the flesh there.
“Good morning.”
“How are you feeling?” He kisses the side of my face.
I’m not surprised he’s an affectionate lover, from the way he acts. Cillian, on the other hand? That had floored me.
“A little sore.”
He chuckles. “Understandable. I’ll run you a hot bath later.”
“Cillian already did, last night.”
He freezes. “Did he now?”
“Aye.”
His eyes sparkle as he looks at me. “You really are half-Irish, aren’t you?”
“I told you I was.”
“Guess I didn’t quite believe it until I heard you say that. Takes one to know one, I suppose.”
“You wouldn’t like me so much if I was, say, Italian?”
“I love Italy, so sure I would. I just like you, Isla. If that is your real name.”
He’s teasing, but it hurts regardless.
“I keep telling you that is my real name.”
“Then why did you lie about your surname?”
I blow out a breath. “I don’t know. Seemed smart not to give all my information to kidnappers.”
He winces. “Aye, I guess you’re right about that. So, Quinn, huh? I know some Quinns around. Are you related to any of them?”
I shake my head, even though it’s quite possible I am.
Hell, I could even have half-siblings from my father out there, somewhere.
But there is no way I’ll let them know who my father really is.
Not because he is someone important; he isn’t, but because I don’t want them to use that information against me.
My father is a nobody, but he is a nobody who earns a living on the wrong side of the law.
“And they live on the west coast, you said?”
“That’s what I said.”
Dare looks at me curiously but doesn’t press. “You’re a bit of an enigma, Isla Quinn.”
I can’t deny that it feels good to hear him use my real name.
“I could say the same about you.”
“Me? I’m an open book.”
I snort.
He chuckles. “Well, ask me whatever you want, a ghrá. I’ll tell you anything you want to know.”
“Your parents?”
He shrugs. “Piece of shit junkies who either spent their time high or acting as each other’s punchbags.
When I was five, they decided punching me was a better option.
By the time I was eight and several trips to the hospital later, never taken by them, of course, and never telling anyone the truth, one of them OD’d, and I was taken from them.
I got shipped around to fuck knows how many foster homes before I turned sixteen and ran away to the city. ”
“They punched you? When you were five?”
Who does that? I can’t imagine. Of course, I didn’t have my father around much, and he was also a piece of shit, but he’d never hit me, and my mother took good care of me.
My heart aches for little Dare.
“Aye. Unlike when they hit each other, I didn’t hit back, so… “
“Cowards! I’m sorry you had to go through all that. And to be homeless and alone at sixteen…”
“Better than what was waiting for me at any of those homes. And after a couple of years on the streets, I met Liam and started doing little jobs for him. He took me in and protected me, which is more than I can say for anyone else until then. I started hanging with him and Cill from that point on.”
“They’re like family to you.”
He nods. “Aye, they are. Both of them.”
“So, you didn’t grow up in the life?”
“Nah. I mean, I’m Irish, so I was always aware of it. But I didn’t start doing jobs until I met Liam. And by then, I was an adult.”
“Eighteen isn't much of an adult."
“For legal purposes, I was. And I had lived what felt like lifetimes by then, so…” He shrugs and gives me a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.
“You’re a tech whiz, right? What made you choose that line of work? Where did you learn?”
He shakes his head. “Tit for tat, a ghrá. Tell me something about yourself. Something the other guys don’t know."
I raise an eyebrow but turn slightly to whisper in his ear. “I absolutely despise macaroni and cheese.”
He barks out a laugh. “What? That’s like, the best food on the market.”
I wrinkle my nose. “I hate how slimy it is.”
“Ah, so it’s a texture thing. That makes a little more sense. Still think you’re crazy, though.” He smiles at me, drawing me ever closer.
His morning wood pokes my hip. I couldn’t miss it. He’s huge.
“Get that thing away from me.”
Dare laughs again. “Can’t help it, a ghrá. He likes you.”
“Clearly.”
He shifts me, propping me up in his lap, and I straddle him easily.
I want to grind down against his erection but stop myself, not wanting to start something I can’t finish given my level of soreness.
“So, how was last night for you?”
My cheeks burn. “For me? Unbelievable. How was it for you? Didn’t mind sharing?”
He stiffens. “It’s not usually the way I do things.”
“You guys have really never...”
“Never what?” He smirks. “Don’t back down now, a ghrá.”
I huff out a breath. “You’ve never... shared a girl before?”
He slowly shakes his head. “The three of us? No.”
I stare at him. “So, you have had group sex before, just not with them?”
“Oh, aye, sure. But never with them. What about you?”
“It was my first time with more than one person.”
“You’re practically a virgin,” he teases, leaning up to nibble on my earlobe.
I shiver. “Nothing like that. At least not since I was a teenager.”
“Who was your first?”
I blink. “That’s a personal question.”
“My dick has been inside you; I’d say that’s pretty personal.”
“His name was Peter. Peter Morrow.”
“That’s a shitty name.”
I snort. “You can’t possibly be jealous of a guy I slept with a hundred years ago.”
“He clearly didn’t appreciate you. Or else he’d still be around.”
“What if I broke up with him?”
“Did you? Little heartbreaker.”
I giggle. “You’re right. I didn’t. He cheated on me with the cheer captain.”
Dare scoffs. “Then he clearly deserves my rage.”
“What, you gonna track him down and beat him up?”
“I mean, I could. I can find anyone.”
Except Maggie Sullivan.
But I keep that to myself.
I need to change the subject. This should be about my career, my one shot at getting inside information, so I need to get deeper. I need to find out something real. I can’t write an article on what I assume to be true.
But also, if he isn’t bragging and he’s really telling the truth, he knows my name. He could find me, find out that I’m a journalist and that I’m still lying to them.
I touch his arm, the right one, which has a raven tattooed on it.
“What does this mean?”
He grins. “Oh, are you one of those people that thinks tattoos have to mean something?”
I shrug. “Not really, but since you only have the one...”
“Fate.”
I raise an eyebrow at him. “You believe in fate?”
“You seem skeptical.”
“I am.” I laugh softly, but his face is serious, his grin fading.
“I don’t understand people who don’t believe in fate,” he complains, seemingly on a rant. “I mean, you lot really think the universe is just random?”
“Isn’t it?” I can’t help but smile at his passion.
“No, of course not! That’s like us, a ghrá. We met by chance. I was looking for Maggie, but I didn’t see Maggie when I looked at you. And it turns out, you’re not her. Doesn’t that make you think about fate?”
“You think that me meeting you, Liam, and Cillian was fate?” My eyes widen.
“Aye. What else could it be?” His green eyes are serious for once, staring into me like he can see into my soul.
I swallow hard, feeling oddly vulnerable, almost like I want to cry. In my defense, I’ve been through a lot the last couple of days.
“A ghrá.” His voice is low and comforting. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine.” My voice trembles, but I wiggle out of Dare’s arms anyway and stand up, heading back to my room and slamming the door before the tears come.