by L A Cotton
An involuntary shudder worked its way up my spine. Despite knowing Braiden had secrets, I wasn’t prepared for this—the severity of who he was and what he’d done. Daddy always made sure I stayed far away from anything ‘business’ related, but that didn’t mean I was completely in the dark. I’d heard things, occasionally saw things, and Donohue was a name I’d heard more than once in the past.
But I didn’t care.
When I was a young girl, Mom was forever telling me stories of how she and Daddy met. ‘You can’t help who you fall in love with’ she would say, and back then, I thought she meant because Daddy was too old for her or because he was a devout Seahawks fan and she preferred the 49ers, thanks to her schoolgirl crush on Joe Montana.
But now, I understood.
Because I was pretty sure I had fallen for Braiden Donohue. And although hearing Jason’s words scared the shit out of me, deep down, I knew it didn’t change the way I felt about him. The lines were blurred, and right and wrong were no longer cut and dry. But, in the end, it didn’t matter because Braiden had been right all along.
We could never be together.
It was the middle of the night when Jason stopped his car outside Pacific. He cut the engine and fumbled around with his cell phone. Texting Daddy, I assumed. We hadn’t spoken for most of the journey. What was there to say? For him, this was more than just following orders—it was personal. He wanted me for himself, something I wasn’t prepared to give him. Seeing me with a regular guy would have fueled the green-eyed monster in him, but seeing me with the enemy? Well, that must have killed him. And part of me hoped it hurt as much as it hurt me watching Braiden at the end of Jason’s gun.
Growing up the daughter of Frankie O’Connor, I wasn’t raised to be afraid of guns; they were to be embraced. I was eleven the first time Daddy let me hold the handgun he kept in his office. Mom almost shit a brick when she found out. I knew his men carried guns, just as I knew Jason kept a pistol in his underwear drawer in his dorm room. It was just part of being an O’Connor—one of the most revered families in Seattle. But I came to Pacific to escape that. To live a life I chose for myself, not one dictated by my father.
“Let’s go.” Jason’s voice cut through my thoughts, and I sighed heavily, forcing myself to climb out of the car. “You’re on lockdown. Daddy’s orders.”
I didn’t reply. This was how it worked since I had moved to Forest Grove, but it hadn’t always been this way. At one time, I was the apple of his eye. The princess to his kingdom. But the older I got, the more jaded I became with my family’s lifestyle. I wanted to be normal. I wanted to go to college and make new friends and study art and fall in love. In Seattle, living with Mom and Dad was rules and boundaries and secrets and lies. It was suffocating.
And now, Pacific—my one escape—was ruined for me.
I didn’t wait for Jason as I headed to my room. No doubt, tomorrow I would get the third degree from my father. But for now, I wanted to curl up on my bed and try and rid my mind of the look of betrayal on Braiden’s face when Jason stormed into the room. The best day of my entire life ripped out from under me in an instant. The hurt in those electric blue eyes was imprinted on me. He thought I was responsible for leading Jason to him—and I suppose, on the face of it, I was. Of course, when I’d left for Chastity Falls, I covered my tracks. Or, at least, I thought I had. It never occurred to me that Jason would do something as crazy as follow me out there. Probably because finding Braiden consumed me. It was all I had thought about since watching him walk out of my dorm room. And I’d known then that I would find a way to reach him. That it couldn’t be the end of something so real between us.
I was a fool.
Because now my father had Braiden, and Jason had leverage over me.
And what did I have?
A broken heart.
I reached the door, key ready in my hand, and unlocked it. As I stepped inside, a hand clasped around my mouth and pulled me against into a solid wall of muscle. Jason. Struggling against his hold, the door clicked shut and my chest heaved against his arm.
“Not so fast, princess.” His breath licked my ear and my whole body tensed remembering how at his mercy I had felt when he tried to force himself on me. But this time, he wasn’t wasted. There was no lingering smell of liquor on his breath. He was sober.
This time, he was in total control.
Jason moved around me, his hand slipping from my mouth to my neck and he pressed me up against the wall. Pressure shot through my spine and into my neck, but I swallowed the cry rushing up my throat. His eyes had me pinned in position.
“Now, when your father calls you tomorrow to ask your version of events, you tell him you had no idea who Braiden was, got it? Don’t breathe a word about how friendly the two of you have been getting. Are we clear?”
My eyes narrowed as I nodded. Why Jason wanted to keep him in the dark, I didn’t know… and I didn’t care. Because my father would find out eventually. He always did. And then I’d have to see the disappointment in his eyes and hear the hurt in his voice.
“Good,” Jason hissed matching my glare with his own. “The less he knows, the better. For all of us.”
We could agree on that one thing.
His hold on me loosened and I slipped down the wall, sucking in a long breath. “Get the fuck out of my room.” I didn’t meet his eyes. As far as I was concerned, we were done.
“You’ll come around.” There was a hint of laughter in his voice, and I could imagine the smug grin on his face. I’d seen it more than once. “We’re destined, princess. Your father wants it to happen one day, and what O’Connor wants, he gets. You should know that by now.”
I turned my back to him and stared out of the window, blinking back the tears. The reality of what my father wanted was too difficult to accept.
What he wants, he gets.
As Jason left my room and the door closed, silent tears rolled down my cheeks.
And, for once, I let them.
I woke with a start, trying to shake off the fuzzy-headedness from a disturbed night’s sleep. Fumbling around on the nightstand, my hand finally grabbed my cell and I brought it to my face to check the time. It was past ten, which meant I’d not only overslept, but I’d also missed my first class. Relieved to see no missed calls or texts from home yet, I tested my coordination and sat up on the edge of the bed. The room spun and I inhaled a long breath. Lack of sleep was not my friend, but all night I’d dreamed of Braiden and Jason, gunfire and gravestones. Twice, I’d awoken with the bedsheet strewn around my body, heart pounding in my chest.
Braiden was probably in Seattle by now if that was where they were taking him. Tears welled behind my eyes again, but I swallowed hard, forcing them down. I didn’t cry—last night had been a rare exception. It showed weakness, Daddy would say. And usually, I agreed with him. But I’d never experienced this before—a deep aching in my chest, right where my heart resided.
The morning passed me by in a blur. Usually, I looked forward to classes, to seeing my friends and dragging my reluctant ass around the track, but none of it touched my mood. I was too busy waiting for the inevitable phone call. The one in which Daddy would rein in the sliver of independence he had afforded me, and I would let him because it was just easier that way. Because being Frankie O’Connor’s daughter meant sacrificing your own happiness for the family.
For him.
But when my cell finally vibrated, I was surprised to see ‘Mom’ flash across the screen instead of ‘Daddy.’
“Hi, baby.” The sound of her voice comforted me where I stood.
“Hey, Mom.”
“How’s school? Classes going okay?”
“Classes are good.” I silently cursed my inability to sound half-normal, but it seemed Mom bought it as she replied, “Good, that’s good, baby. Jason called your father. He’s worried about your safety on campus.”
“My safety?”
“You’re okay? Everything’s okay down there? Did something happen?”
I dropped onto my bed and shuffled back until I was leaning against the headboard, legs stretched out in front of me. Jason was obviously keeping things from her too, and I wondered what his game was.
“Things are fine, Mom. Same old.” I hesitated wondering whether to spin some white lies to throw her off the scent. But Mom wouldn’t stop until she got answers. If my father was shutting her out too, it was for a reason.
One I didn’t want to think about.
“Cara, what is it? What aren’t you telling me?”
This was more the woman I knew. Nothing ever got past her. She was worse than Dad was, seeing through everything. I think it was one of the reasons she’d stuck by him for so long. She called him out on his bullshit, refused to be kept in the dark about business, and when he did try, she always knew he was keeping something from her. Daddy might have won her heart, but she’d made him earn her trust and respect.
“Nothing, Mom. Everything’s fine.” My voice wavered and I coughed trying to cover it up. “I’m just exhausted. It’s been a long week.”
“Okay, baby. Jason is going to bring you home this weekend. Your father wants to discuss things. If Jason feels you’re not safe in Forest Grove anymore, we may have to look at other schools, baby.”
“Mom-” I started to protest, but she cut me off.
“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. I know how important Pacific is to you. I’ll talk to your father again. I’ll see you in a couple of days, baby. Stay safe and stick with Jason.”
A shiver worked its way through my body, and I drew my knees up, curling onto my side.
“I’ll see you soon, Mom. Love you.” I ended the call and clutched the cell phone to my chest wondering how I was going to get through this.
Chapter Sixteen
Braiden
When the van finally stopped, I breathed a sigh of relief. For the last hour, I'd felt every bump and pothole, pain exploding in my skull and forcing me in and out of consciousness. Jason had done a real fucking number on my head. I could feel the swelling along the side of my eyebrow where the butt of the pistol had collided with my face. They must have loaded me into the back of the van while I was passed out.
The side door opened and unfriendly eyes penetrated mine. "Let's go," one of the guys said, and I gestured to the restraints binding my ankles and wrists. He dug around in his pocket, pulling out a flip knife. "Out," he said as he sliced through the rope binding my ankles.
I sat up, trying to disguise how much pain I was in, and shuffled to the edge of the van. They stepped back giving me a wide berth, and I dropped down onto the balls of my feet. It was still dark, no sign of sunrise, so I had no idea how long I’d been out. It could have been the same night or I could have lost a whole day. Scanning the surrounding area for any clue of where we were, I expected we would be in Seattle, delivered to Frankie O'Connor. But we weren't in the city; we were surrounded by woodland, miles upon miles of dense woods. My first instinct was that they'd brought me out here to kill me and my heart leaped into my throat, but then my eyes spotted the house in the distance. I doubted they had orders to off me in view of potential witnesses. Which meant they’d brought me to one of O’Connor’s places.
"Move it." A hand jabbed against my lower back, and I lurched forward, stumbling across the ground.
We walked in silence, red-hot anger coursing through me as I strained against the ropes binding my wrists to test their strength. The rough fibers scraped against my skin, the friction stinging. Lights in the distance grew brighter and my eyes adjusted, taking in the size of the house.
When we finally reached the property, no one came out. Besides the porch lights, the place seemed quiet. The two men herded me around the back where there were a garage and some kind of windowless annex. One moved in front of me and unlocked a door before stepping to the side.
"Inside." The bigger of the two guys nudged me in the back, but I stood my ground unwilling to step into the abyss staring back at me.
"Look." He sighed. "We can do this the easy way or the hard way."
"Easy isn't in my nature." I glanced over my shoulder at him.
"Figured as much," he replied as his fist drove into my kidneys. I cursed under my breath as I inched forward trying to avoid another blow. Maybe I was a fool, maybe I should have just cooperated, but for all I knew, death awaited me through that door, and I wasn't quite ready to go yet.
There were still things I needed to know. Things that were unfinished.
Blackness swallowed me as the guy jostled me into the room, getting in another kidney shot. With my hands tied, it wasn't like I could fight back, but I could take whatever he gave me. Because I had a feeling the worst was yet to come.
"Don't wait up, Donohue." His voice echoed somewhere in the room, but I couldn't see him through the black void.
The door closed and I heard the lock fitted into place on the other side. Once it was quiet, I waited with my eyes closed listening for a sign of someone being in here with me. But there was nothing, just the sound of my racing heart in the silence.
I squinted trying to force my eyes to adapt to their new surrounds, but with no light to cast shadows, it was useless. Defeated, I held out my hands and moved slowly until my fingers grazed a vertical surface. A wall. I traced the boundary a few inches in both directions and once I was satisfied it was a solid wall, I slid down against it and leaned back drawing up my knees. At least this way, nothing could come at me from behind.
Time stood still. Being stripped of my senses made it impossible to figure out how long I'd been sitting there, but the stiffness in my back and legs and the dull ache in my butt told me it had to be a couple of hours, at least. And while I tried to focus on thinking up a plan, my traitorous piece of shit mind had other ideas. Because all I could think about was Cara.
Only hours ago, I was considering walking away from everything if it meant a shot at us being together, and now, she was the enemy. I clenched my fist squeezing hard before releasing it and repeating the motion. Cara always had the power to ruin me; I just didn't realize she'd trample all over me as well. But I was to blame as much as she was. I'd let her get close. Against all my better judgment, she had wormed her way in, and I let her.
Prison had turned me into a fucking pussy. Someone who believed he’d changed—that he deserved a shot at a normal life. That he was finally worthy of redemption. Fuck. I wanted so badly to believe that Cara had seen me for me. Not for my name or rep, but for the guy underneath.
But she had me fooled.
Bottom line, Cara had played me. Even if she didn't intentionally lead that fucker to my doorstep, she went to him in the motel room. She didn't rush to my defense or beg for my life. She just stood by and watched. That made her just as guilty in my eyes. Hell, she probably played me all along. I bet Jason was whispering in her ear this whole damn time. Fists clenched I lifted my arms above my head and they connected with a cool, smooth surface, pain shooting through my knuckles, but it did little to ease the storm building. It wanted me to fight back, to make a stand and show these goons exactly who they were messing with. But somewhere deep inside me, I couldn’t help but think that it would be easier this way.
That maybe it was time to accept my fate.
I'd been a puppet for too long. My strings had been pulled by my father and O'Connor, and now, I was almost certain I was being manipulated by Jack Doyle and Luke. Even my own sister.
And I was tired.
If I let this happen—let O'Connor do whatever it was he had planned for me—everything would end and I would be free.
Dead ... But free.
Whenever it came down to fight or flight in the past, I always fought. Fists, words, weapons, whatever I needed to get the job done. But if I fought this—and survived—I knew my mind wouldn’t be able to let her go. I’d tasted her, and now, Cara O'Connor was going to haunt me forever. It was the one thing I was certain I couldn't live with.
The door opened, a beam of lig
ht flooding the room. I sat forward waiting. Anticipating what was to come next.
“Thirsty?” a deep voice asked from the shadows. I could only make out the silhouette of a guy.
“I could take a beer,” I shot back unable to hide the sarcasm in my voice.
“It’s water … or water.”
“Water it is, then.” I let my shoulders relax back against the wall. These fuckers were just toying with me, trying to unnerve me. It would take more than a dark room and a few low blows to the kidneys.
A bottle of water rolled toward me coming to rest against my foot. I leaned forward enough to scoop it up with my bound hands. I flipped the cap with my thumb and brought it to my lips.
“I wouldn’t drink it all; you’ll need it.”
The door closed leaving me in the darkness once more. The water felt so good I wanted to drain the whole bottle, but the guy was right. I needed to be smart. There was obviously a reason they were keeping me here. And before I made any rash decisions, I intended to find out.
I must have fallen asleep because I awoke to a suited man dripping a bottle of ice-cold water on my head. It trickled off me, landing on my t-shirt as I glared up at him. Somewhere in the recesses of my memory, I recognized him. Maybe from some of the old photos Dad had lying around the house when I was a boy. I couldn’t be sure.
“Get up.” The guy turned his back on me and stepped away giving me space to haul my ass off the floor. My quads protested, sore and heavy from being in one position for too long, but I managed to straighten up.
Light streamed into the room from the slightly ajar door and I got a better look at the guy. His suit looked expensive, the kind Dad used to wear. So this is O’Connor? He walked to the middle of the room that I could now see was square with racks along the far side housing various boxes. There was a wooden chair in the middle of the room.
“Sit,” he said with little emotion. The guy was a closed book, giving nothing away. Whatever, two can play that game. I moved to the chair and dropped down, relieved for the change in position.
