"I'm sorry Mr. Kelly, but I'm not scared of you, and if my daughter's missing, I'm absolutely calling the police. It's the first thing I'm doing."
"I'm sorry Mr. Richie, but I can't let ye do that. I'll have to stop ye if ye get involved. I'm not gonna stand by and watch ye get her killed."
"Who the hell are you, and who said anything about her getting killed?" Alan yelled.
Candice let out another long sob, keeping her face covered, and Addie sat next to her, watching the guys go back and forth.
"Rory you need to pipe down and let me handle this, please," Tom said calmly. "I was just about to explain to Mr. Richie that we've got everything under control." Tom looked at Alan with a calm smile. "Mr. Richie, I know you have no reason to trust me, but we are your best chance at getting your daughter back safely." Tom reached out to put a hand on Alan's shoulder and stare into his eyes. "Unfortunately, I cannot give you all the details, but I promise you, father to father, that we have everything under control. Calling the police would only complicate matters and prolong her safe return. Please know that I'm telling you the truth. Please understand that we only want what's best for your daughter."
Candice continued to sob, and Alan just stood there staring blankly at Tom.
"I give my word that we're your best shot. If you'll trust me on that, we can get the ball rolling on bringing her home safely right now."
"Do you know where she is?"
"No, but we know she's close." Tom said, lying. He'd already heard from Mike who was steadily putting the pieces together. He knew they traveled from Miami to Puerto Rico by plane, and then by boat to the Dominican Republic. Mike would continue to do research, and by the time the guys got to the Dominican Republic, he'd probably know right where Megan was.
"We really need to be going," Tom said, shaking Alan's shoulder. "Can I trust that you'll leave this to us?"
Alan was quiet for a second and Addie said, "Just listen to him, Mr. Alan. They're good guys and they wouldn't do anything to hurt Megan."
Alan stuck his hand out to shake Tom's but didn't offer a smile. "Please find her."
"We will," Rory said from behind his dad. "And we'll kill the people who took her."
Candice wailed again at the thought of men taking her, and Tom glared at Rory. Rory looked at Alan and whispered, "I'm gonna bring yer daughter back sir."
"What are you waiting for?" Alan said.
Without another word, Rory and Tom were gone, and within the hour, Tom, Rory and Drake were all on a small plane bound for the Dominican Republic. Drake hated to fly, but got over it since he was so enraged about her being taken. Most of the time, he didn't care about being left behind when his dad and brother traveled, but he wanted to be present when they exacted revenge.
Mike had a team of two guys there to meet Tom and his sons when they got off the plane. It was 10PM Sunday night when they got to the spot Mike had squared away for debriefing.
They knew Megan had gotten off of a boat and been transported by truck to wherever she currently was. They had video from the dock and had seen her being carried. She looked limp and lifeless, and it took every ounce of Rory's restraint not to let his temper rage out of control right there.
"We have reason to believe they're on land within a fifty mile radius of here, but we can't pinpoint until we make contact with them. We just have to wait for them to call."
It was two hours later when Rory's phone rang. The guy on the other end assumed it was the first Rory was hearing about the kidnapping and that he was back in the United States. Luis had no clue how much intel the Kelly's had, and would never expect them to be this close when he made the phone call. He talked to the guy for a second before they put Megan on the phone. Rory knew Megan had been taken, but it didn't stop his stomach from sinking at the sound of her voice over the phone. She sounded extremely weak and vulnerable, and he knew he'd have blood on his hands before it was all said and done.
One of the guys they were working with was keeping tabs on the call being tracked and gave them a thumbs up when they had the location. Rory felt a surge of anxious excitement knowing it was about to go down.
The guy on the phone said he'd be in touch in eight hours, but their location was only thirty-two miles away. It was inland over rough terrain, so it would take them over an hour to get there. Within minutes of ending the call, Tom and his boys, along with the two others, left for the shack. They had no idea what they'd find when they got there, so it was a relief to find a shack in the woods rather than a big compound with guards and walls. Rory smiled when they caught sight of the shack in the distance, thinking it would be a piece of cake.
The team made a plan to approach the shack together, but agreed (at his insistence) to let Rory go in first. They were dressed in dark clothing and were all armed with guns and knives. The team gathered at the door, listening for a minute.
It sounded like there were two guys. Both of them were speaking Spanish, which Rory understood. They were talking about getting some sleep, and one of them mentioned not needing to worry about her escaping since she was so weak anyway.
Rory didn't ask permission from his team, or even okay it with them. At the first word of how weak Megan was, he pushed open the door and stepped inside. There were two guys, one standing near the door with a machine gun slung over his shoulder, and one sitting on a folding chair in the corner. Rory didn't hesitate to point his pistol at the armed man and shoot him three times between the eyes.
Bang, bang, bang.
He looked toward the cot where Megan was curled into a ball. He didn't know if she'd done that because of the gunfire, or if she'd been like that, but the sight of her in that position was gut wrenching. She was hooked up to an IV bag, which made him want to take his time torturing Luis before he killed him.
His gaze shifted to the guy at Megan's bedside. This wasn't Luis. This was one of the Americans they'd thought they were working with. "What are ye doing with her, Will?" Rory asked, pointing his pistol right at Will's face.
Will had been taken unaware, and hadn't had time to draw his weapon. He stared up at Rory in utter confusion as to how he'd found them so quickly. Megan registered that it was Rory who'd spoken, and when she did, she picked her head up to look at him. Rory kept his weapon trained on Will, but shifted his gaze to look at Megan. It was the first time she looked up since he came in, and the sight of her pitiful face with dark purple bruises covering a good portion of it was too much for him to handle. He knew in that instant that he'd kill any and everybody who had a hand in this.
He hesitated for a second—and Will used the distraction to jump on him. He tackled Rory, and they rolled, fighting for the gun. Drake and Tom trained their pistols on the action, waiting for the movement to stop so they could take a shot, but before they had the opportunity, Rory pulled a knife out of his belt and performed a violent, backhanded swipe across Will's exposed neck. He cut him so deeply that Will only struggled for a few seconds before the life drained out of him.
Rory tossed Will's body to the side, and stood to take a look at Megan. It had been less than two days, and he couldn't believe she'd deteriorated that much. He hated himself for letting that happen to her.
Chapter 11
The fluids from the IV were helping with my delirium, but I was still hazy during the time after I talked to Rory to give him the ransom demands.
I was on my side on the uncomfortable, narrow cot when suddenly there were three loud gunshots. The sharp, shrill sounds startled me so badly that I rolled into a ball, covering my face. I heard someone say something after the gunfire, and even though I didn't register what they said, I knew that it was said with an accent. It was an Irish accent like my Rory's. Could it be Rory? How long had it been since I talked to him? I looked up to see if it could be possible he was actually there, and yes, there he was. Was I dreaming? Our eyes locked and I tried to convey how thankful and relieved I was that he'd come for me. His expression was intense but unreadable.
; Then out of the corner of my eye, I saw Will fly across the open space and knock Rory over. I watched as they rolled and struggled for a second, but Rory quickly ended it when he ran a knife across Will's throat. I actually hadn't seen what happened since Rory was on bottom and Will was blocking my view, but the gory results were obvious when Rory surfaced holding a bloody knife.
He stood and turned to face me. Then proceeded to stare at me for so long that Drake and Tom finally came into the room.
"Where are the other two?" Tom asked.
"They…" I cleared my throat. "I think Will killed them, I overheard something about it." My voice sounded puny, even to my own ears, but there was just nothing I could do about it. A puny voice was all I had.
"Are there any others?"
"In and out, but mostly these two I think."
Rory came to my cot and kneeled beside me while Tom and the others (Drake and two I didn't recognize) began inspecting the contents of the shack. There wasn't much to look at, but they continued to comb the place, inside and out, while Rory just kneeled at my bedside and stared at me. With a set jaw, he looked me over. They were all fully armed, which only added to the craziness of the situation.
"I'm so sorry they did this to ye," Rory finally said, reaching out to lay his hand on mine.
I didn't have a response, so I just let the very corner of my mouth raise in an almost imperceptible smile.
"Why are ye hooked up to this thing?" he asked, he scowled at the bag as if he were ready to rip it out of my arm if I said it were causing me harm.
"I needed it," I whispered. "I think I threw up a lot and got dehydrated. I was really sick until I woke up with this thing in my arm. That's when they made me call you." I stared blankly at his gorgeous green eyes, forgetting in that split second that all this was his fault. "It seemed like it was only a little while ago that I called you. Has it been a whole day?"
"It's been an hour. I was thirty miles away when you called."
I wanted to ask how he was so close, but I didn't have the will or desire to carry on a spoken conversation with anyone. Rory picked me up and stood face to face with his dad as I rested my head on his warm chest and closed my eyes.
"Get her another bag of fluid. We're taking her to a hotel for a day before she makes the trip. I'll take care of Luis before we leave."
"We'll come with you," Tom said. "We're done here."
The hotel we checked into was extremely nice. It was one of those all-inclusive resorts on the beach, but I only knew that because I saw the brochure of the amenities sitting on the bedside table. I didn't leave the bed for the next eighteen hours.
I knew Rory had taken care of Luis and anyone else he considered a threat, but I tried not to listen since I wanted to be left out of their business from now on. It was near sunset on Tuesday when we made the flight back to Miami. I was still in a dazed state, but capable of walking on my own and carrying on a conversation.
I'd seen myself in the mirror from a distance, but still hadn't gotten close. It was bad. I bruise easily anyway, but he'd hit me hard across the jaw, and there was a lot of color from that. The binding around my mouth also caused dark marks that extended from the corners of my mouth onto my cheeks. That was especially freakish looking, and most of the reason I hadn't looked at myself up close.
All of our travel was private, so I didn't have to worry about seeing anyone. I flew with Rory, Tom, and Drake straight into Miami where they had a car waiting for us on a small, private landing strip. I kept my eyes closed for most of the flight since it was loud, and I didn't feel much like talking anyway.
As we approached the car, Rory moved to stand next to me, blocking the way where none of the guys behind him could see or hear. We'd had no time alone during the last day, and he seemed anxious to speak to me in private. His intense stare made me cock my head in question.
"Megan, I need ye to know I'm a good guy."
I offered him a fake smile. "I know."
He gave my chin a feather light touch to make me look at him. "Look at me. I'm so sorry this happened. I'm sick about it. You have to believe me when I say I'm never gonna let anything happen to ye again."
I gave him another fake smile, and just then, Drake and Tom got into the front seats and Rory went around to get in the back with me. We didn't talk all the way to my house. Tom got on the phone with my parents and told them what to expect when I got there. He told them the state of my face and to have a room ready for me to go into when I got home.
Rory held me all the way to my house, but mostly just because I needed to be held. We went directly into my parents' guesthouse when we got there. Mom and dad, along with Addie, were all sitting in my living room when I walked in. Tom went in first.
"She has a lot of bruising, but she's fine. We've been watching her for the last day, and she's doing well."
I came in the door behind Tom and stared at the three stunned faces looking back at me. My mom gasped and buried her face in her hands, wailing uncontrollably, my dad rushed over to me, and Addie stood there and put a hand on my mom's back in an effort to stay out of the way. My dad stopped before he reached me, and stared at my face in disbelief before shifting his very pissed, wide-eyed glare over to Tom.
"I thought you said she was all right," he said through gritted teeth.
"I am all right, Dad," I said, wanting the drama to stop.
My mom continued to cry on the couch.
"Mr. Richie, I know you have no reason to trust us, but please know that we meant no harm to come to your daughter. The person responsible for what happened has been dealt with and is no longer alive to try anything like this in the future. It's very important that you do not contact the police with this story. If she needs assistance, medical or otherwise, please contact me directly and I'll see that she gets it."
"I'll take care of her," Rory cut in.
"Like hell you will," my dad said, looking at Rory like he was crazy. "I think you gentlemen have done enough here."
Tom looked at his boys and then at me. He gave me a sweet smile. "You're an amazing young woman," he said.
I knew it was untrue, but it still felt good. I knew all I'd done was gotten sick and curled up into a ball the whole time. I wasn't brave or amazing at all, but I was alive, and that's better than the alternative.
"You've done enough," my dad repeated. He physically moved toward them, shooing them out the door.
My mom had gotten herself together enough to look at me without bursting into tears, and the first thing she said when she got a good look at me was, "What else did they do to you?"
"Nothing," I said, trying to make her feel better. "Just my face."
"And your hands," Addie said.
I looked down at my wrists that were bruised from me straining against the binding.
"Megan, have you been checked out by a doctor?" Dad asked.
I nodded. "Tom had some paramedics come into the hotel room. They brought me some fresh fluid for my IV, and—"
"IV?" My mom said indignantly. "Why were you on an IV?"
"I got dehydrated."
"What did the doctor say?"
"That I was bruised up and dehydrated," I said as patiently as I could.
"Are you sure nothing's broken?" he asked.
I shook my head.
"Where else are you bruised?"
"My hip's got a pretty bad one, and my face obviously. There's my ankles and wrists, but that's it really."
"What happened to your hip?" Mom asked.
I remembered falling painfully onto the ground when I was trying to escape. "I don't really know," I said. "Struggling, I guess." I made it clear by my tone that I wasn't ready to relive any of it yet.
"I'm gonna want to look at everything, Megan," Dad said. He might not be an ER doctor, but he was still a doctor, and ever since I was a kid, he'd been checking out my bumps and bruises. This one was a doozy.
My dad told me to get into some loose clothing so he could take a look at my inju
ries. He wanted to keep an eye on everything and make sure nothing was at risk of clotting or becoming infected. I changed into a tank top and pair of shorts, and Dad came into my bedroom to take a look. I told him I wanted him to come alone, mostly because I didn't want to deal with Mom bursting into tears every five seconds.
Addie stayed in the living room with my mom, and I stretched out on the foot of my bed so Dad could inspect the damage. I watched him look at me and could see by his expression that the inspection was extremely painful for him. Tears stung my eyes at the sight of his obvious pain. I looked away.
"Is it this hip here?" he asked, touching my right side. I nodded and rolled over. I stretched my shorts up to expose the massive bruise on my backside and hip. He stared down at it with a clinched jaw for a while before letting his gaze roam over the area.
He got a serious, almost sad expression when he said, "I'm not sure that I want to know the answer to this, but did they rape you Megan?"
"No," I said defensively. Rory had already asked me that, and I told him the same thing. I'd definitely remember if someone did that. "No," I repeated.
"Are you sure?" he asked.
"Why are you asking that?" He glanced down at my legs. When I pulled my shorts up to expose the bruise, it also exposed a red mark at the very top of my other thigh. It was right up next to my crotch, and looked very suspicious.
I stared down at it, wondering if I'd been raped without even realizing. Then it dawned on me that I'd seen that mark before—that it was there before I even got taken. It was the one Rory had put on me when he spent the night here. I marveled at the fact that it was still there. It had only been three or four nights since he put it there, and it seemed like a freaking eternity.
I looked at the red mark, remembering how he said it was a good one and would be there a week. I bet he never imagined it would be next to all these others. It seemed insignificant by comparison.
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