Chapter 38
Chapter Thirty-Eight
ISLA
I really shouldn’t have taken that nap, but the pregnancy makes me exhausted all the time. It’s like my two moods are emotionally exhausted or ridiculously horny. I guess it’s the hormones and building a whole person in my uterus.
Cillian said that he knew where they were, but I’m worried.
What if they ran off half-cocked to do something stupid? God, what if they just... leave? I couldn’t blame them if they did. After all, that’s what I did.
I ran away. I didn’t talk to them about everything like I should have. Now what reason do they have to trust me? Not to mention, maybe Dare and Liam don’t want kids. I smile slightly, looking down at my still flat belly and thinking of how sweetly Cillian had treated me.
I think it's pretty clear that Cillian does want kids, but I can’t guarantee that he’s the father. Even if I could, I don’t know if I’d want to.
I don’t know who I want the father to be. Honestly, there’s merits to all of them. Liam is well put-together, stable, intelligent. Dare is charming and fun. Cillian is sweet and protective.
They all have such wonderful traits, and the problem is, I’m in love with all three of them.
How is that even possible? To really have deep love for three different men?
I look out over the balcony, thinking of where I first met Dare, my heart falling.
It’s not like I would want for anything if I did choose Cillian, if the baby was his. He’d make me happy. I know it. But I don’t know if I could be as happy as I was with all three of them.
Even though I was a prisoner, that cottage felt like home, those men like my lovers.
I used to only be interested in my work, thinking that love was something people just put in books and movies, some fantasy to help people sleep at night.
I groan, pacing around the room for what feels like hours before I realize I have to go and find them. I need to tell all of them how I feel about them, tell them that I want them all, see what happens.
My mother always told me that if I want something, I have to go after it. And I always have. Until now. I’ve been keeping secrets, more than just the baby growing in my belly.
I slide on a pair of drugstore flip-flops—how I’ve fallen from my designer heels at the gala—and exit the room, not bothering to lock it behind me. I figure I’ll find at least Dare at the bar downstairs.
Liam doesn’t drink often, but Dare does, and I can’t imagine he’s not there after everything that’s happened.
The other two won’t be far.
I walk out into the hallway. An older man, handsome and casually dressed, stands by the elevator, waiting for it to ding.
“Oh, it doesn’t work,” I tell him as I walk toward the staircase.
He chuckles. “Thanks. I would’ve been standing here for God knows how long.”
He turns to look at me, and his dark eyes widen slightly.
I look away, not wanting him to get any ideas. I’m beyond taken, and besides, he’s probably my mother’s age.
I try not to be nervous as he follows me down the stairs—after all, he has no choice–but I feel strange as we reach the lobby, like something’s wrong.
I shake it off.
Of course, something’s wrong. Everything’s wrong because my men aren’t with me, and they’re hurting. And it’s my fault.
“Excuse me, ma’am?” the man calls, and I turn, a frown on my face, ready to tell him I’m not interested, but the words die in my throat.
There’s something… wrong with him. Something dead behind his eyes.
The metal he shoves between my ribs is cold, and I gasp.
“Don’t say a word, Magpie, if you don’t want a bullet between your ribs.”
The baby.
Taking a shuddering breath, I can only wish I could scream.
I stare at the neon lights above the bar, knowing Dare is in there and praying that something tells him to come check on me.
Damn Maggie Sullivan or whatever ancestor we shared that made us look alike.
“If you are looking for Maggie Sullivan, you have the wrong person. She’s dead,” I say hoarsely, but the man just chuckles.
“Please. I know we haven’t met in person yet, but I’ve heard your voice on the phone often enough. Just because you’re hiding your Irish accent doesn’t mean I can’t hear it, dolly.”
He ushers me out the back door, which is right next to the staircase, and the receptionist watches us with a single raised eyebrow.
Right before he drags me out, I have enough presence of mind through my terror to slide off the only present of Dare’s I'd kept—a tennis bracelet with a “D” charm.
The older man leads me to a Rolls Royce and shoves me into the backseat with another man, a big one, bigger even than Cillian.
I scramble to the door, but it’s locked and there are no lock mechanisms on the inside. It must be custom.
It’s not until I slowly start to put it together that I recognize Cormac Callahan.
I’ve only seen old pictures of him, when he was younger, so it took me some time to realize. Too much time.
“Look, I told you, I’m not Maggie Sullivan!” Tears spurt from my eyes as Cormac gets into the car and starts it, driving away.
I claw at the back window until the man in the back grunts and pulls me down.
I fight him, clawing at his forearm just as I did with Cillian that first night, that first night that seems now like a million years ago.
He hisses and hits me in the face, and everything goes fuzzy for a few seconds.
Cormac’s voice seems to come from far away. “Hey! We don’t hit ladies, Reese. Not yet, anyway.”
“She scratched me!”
“Don’t be a baby, boyo. You’re big; you can handle it.”
“Please,” I whimper, dignity lost when I think about the baby. “Don’t do this. Maggie is dead. My name is—”
“Aye,” Cormac says cheerfully, and I know he doesn’t believe me from the tone of his voice.
I’ve heard the guys talk about him–how he doesn’t discriminate between men, women, or children, how he sells hard drugs to kids…
Not to mention, my father used to work for him. So, I can’t even give him my real name.
I’ve done my research over the years, and Cormac Callahan is known to be the most dangerous man in the city, even more so than Ronan Hayes.
I’m in and out of consciousness as we drive, my head spinning from being punched, and my left eye swelling up. God, he really hit me hard. I can’t keep my bearings, feeling dizzy.
It takes hours, but it seems like a blink that we’re hundreds of miles away from my men, coming back into the city limits.
Reese tries to touch me when we park, and out of instinct, I hiss and lash out with my nails, getting him along the neck.
He hits me again, and when I come to, my nose aches, and blood crusts my nostrils.
Blinking slowly out of my only seeing eye, I sit up and look around.
I’m in a huge bedroom, on a big, four-poster bed. Like the cottage, the thread count on these sheets is a lot higher than the bed and breakfast.
After a spell or two of dizziness, I manage to get up and walk to the door, trying the knob, but it’s locked from the outside.
I break down, dropping to my knees, covering my face with my hands and sobbing.
I sit there, shoulders shaking, letting it all out, for a long time.
When I finally collect myself, I notice a sandwich and a bag of chips sitting on the vanity.
This was clearly a woman’s room at some point, because there are lavender curtains and expensive makeup on the vanity.
I sniffle, pulling myself together to go and sit at the vanity, chewing and swallowing the small meal mechanically.
The baby needs to eat, even if I’m injured and terrified.
I have to keep going for the baby. I have to stay alive, just long enough for the guys to find me.
I finish eating and manage to keep it down, crawling back into the empty bed.
I close my eyes, trying to ignore the pain of my black eye and possibly broken nose.
My only hope is that Dare finds my bracelet and tells the others. He’d found me for God’s sake, and I’d done everything I could to keep him at bay.
Please, please, Dare. Cillian. Liam. Find me.