Surrounded by nothing as I got out of the car.
I popped the trunk and walked around. I grabbed the black satchel in back and pulled up the carpeted floor. I grabbed hunks of cash, counting them out in my head as I shoved it into the bag. Five hundred thousand. A measly sum of money, in my opinion. I got paid that kind of money per job. What kind of small-time asshole had these kinds of balls?
Liam.
It was probably my anger talking. But if that jerk-off had anything to do with this, the Maguires would officially be an enemy. There was no coming back from something like this. Not even Patrick himself—the patriarch of the family—could smooth-talk his way out of this shit. Not this time.
I wouldn't let it.
I slammed the trunk closed and tossed the bag over my shoulder. All of the lights in the warehouse were out except for a few off in the distance. Practically a massive blinking arrow telling me where to go. I started across the parking lot and made my way for the back left corner. I stuck close to the building, keeping my eyes and ears peeled for anything. The cock of a gun. The rushing around of footsteps. The Callaghan pistols I had strapped to either side of my body called to me as I came into the light. The side door hung open. I followed it all the way inside. Down the musty-smelling hallway until Abby’s sobs hit my ears.
“Shut up, bitch.”
“No!” she shrieked.
A crack echoed down the hallway and red dripped over my vision. I picked up the pace, letting my presence become announced if it hadn’t been already. My heavy footfalls echoed behind me, preceded me as I turned the corner. I walked into a darkened room before two men appeared behind me. Closing the door and locking me in.
With Abby underneath a spotlight.
“Brody,” she whimpered.
The sight infuriated me. The poor girl was stripped down to nothing but her underwear. And from the bruises on her face, they had beaten her pretty good. No one laid a hand on Richard Callaghan’s daughter. And they’d pay with their souls for something like this. Abby whispered for me. Asking me for help. Begging me to get her out of there.
My eyes fell to her body before I dropped the black satchel onto the ground.
“You have your money. Give me what’s mine,” I said.
A man stepped out from the shadows and I was very disappointed in his presence. Just another bodyguard completely clad in black. I looked around the room at the men surrounding us. I could drop each of them in a heartbeat without touching my goddamn gun. But there was no sign of the man running this show. No sign of who had ordered something like this to take place.
Though, there was this disgusting smell in the air.
“Untie her. Now,” I commanded.
A snap of someone’s fingers came out of nowhere and the men moved. I watched them closely as they released the binds around Abby’s wrists. From around her ankles. She struggled to get up and I saw that her fingertips were blue. They’d tied her down so fucking tightly that they cut off circulation to her appendages.
“Come here. I gotcha,” I whispered.
I made my way for her, ignoring the movement of the men around me. I scooped her into my arms and glared at each and every one of them. Then, I carried her out of that fucking place. She cried against me. She shivered in my arms the second we stepped out into the cool nighttime air. I walked her back to the car and slid her in the passenger’s seat, helping her clip into her seatbelt.
And after shrugging my coat off, I let it fall against her like a soft blanket.
“Where are you staying?” I asked.
“Thank you. Bro—Bro—Bro—”
I locked my eyes with hers. “You’re safe. Gray Garden Hotel, right?”
She sniffled. “Yeah.”
“What room?”
She cleared her throat. “The, uh, the…”
She pointed up, and I understood what she was saying.
I closed her door before wrapping around the car. And when I pulled out of that parking lot, I didn’t stop the car until we were at the hotel. I took her in the back entrance, making sure to keep her concealed as I made my way for the elevator. I didn’t want anyone seeing her like this. I didn't want anyone laying eyes upon her naked skin. Her face fell into the crook of my neck as she continued to cry. Soft, silent tears that fell against my skin.
Fueling my anger and my want for revenge.
The elevator carried us up. It stopped at the top level, but the doors didn’t open. Abby raised her head, her lips falling against my ear.
And the heat of her breath made my gut jump.
“14-3-6. Use the level buttons.”
I pressed them in that order, and the doors gave way. I walked through the opulence of the penthouse hotel room and headed straight for the first set of doors. I walked around until I finally found the master suite with her suitcases stashed in the corner. Her clothes were tossed around everywhere. Her bed, unkempt and unmade. I made a mental note to call down to the front desk and ask them why someone hadn’t gotten up here to make the girl’s damn bed.
But, for now, I had to get her to calm down.
I set her on the edge of the bathroom counter, but she clung to me. I had to unravel her from my body before I cupped her cheeks. Her body tensed at my touch, but she didn’t move away. Instead, her frantic eyes settled against my gaze as I watched her. Waiting for her breathing to even out.
“Shower, clean clothes, then bed. I’m going to help. You tell me when it’s too much. All right?”
She blinked. “What?”
“Tell me when it’s too much.”
I slid my hands down her neck and over her shoulders. I watched goosebumps trail along her skin. Her eyes searched mine as I held her gaze, trying to make her as comfortable as possible. I knew her hands and her feet were still numb because she rested her hands over my forearms and could barely move her fingers. I slid my hands behind her, my fingertips making their way to the clasp of her bra.
“Brody,” she choked out.
I halted my movements as more tears rushed her eyes.
“Your hands are numb. You’re going to need help showering. I won’t do anything you don’t want me to do. But you can’t stand on your own or get clothes on. Let me help.”
“But you’ll see me—”
I nodded. “I can call Fiona, if you’d like.”
She shook her head quickly. “No, no. It’s—you’re—”
She bit her lower lip and it made me want to kiss it.
Kiss her.
What the fuck is happening right now?
“Okay,” Abby whispered.
I unclasped her bra and slid it from her body. I let her lean against me, ignoring how amazing her breasts felt against my chest. I lifted her up and slid her panties off, dragging them down her thick legs. The smell of her womanhood jumped my cock. I felt myself growing. Thickening. Coming to life. And I took deep breaths to try and mitigate my feelings.
Though, every part of me wanted to dive between her legs until she forgot about this entire nightmare.
I scooped her naked body into my arms and placed her in the tub. She shivered with a chill as I turned on the warm water. I made it as hot as she wanted until steam wrapped around both of us. Then, I added bubbles until she told me to stop. I sloshed the water around. I picked up a cup and poured water softly against her stomach. Against her chest. She sighed with relief, but her bruises told me she was in pain. The one growing against her jawline made me nervous. But the bruising around her calves had me nervous.
“Did they—”
“No,” she said quickly.
Her eyes slowly found mine before she sighed heavily.
“They tried, but no,” she said.
“Trying” alone meant their death. Trying to take something that wasn’t theirs meant their blood would coat the pavement of this city. The bathtub filled under her and her body was covered in bubbles before I turned the water off. I washed her hair. Conditioned it twice. I ran a rag up and down her body
as she hissed through the pain in her hands and feet. Finally, the sensation returned. But that came with a price.
Tears glistened in her eyes as she slowly moved her fingertips. Reacting as if someone were stabbing her with thousands of needles.
“Shit,” she hissed.
“Don’t fight it. Just let it happen,” I said.
And the more I washed her down, the more she relaxed.
Releasing in my presence, instead of tensing up.
5
Abby:
Warm. As my body slowly came back to life, the first thing I felt was warmth. Something warm was beside me, and I was afraid to move. Afraid to breathe. Afraid that I might scare it away. I stared up at a ceiling I recognized and breathed in scents that were familiar to me.
Except one.
It smelled musky. Of sweat, wood, and oak. The cool air of something wafted against my face. Over and over. Rhythmically.
A fan.
I blinked a few times to clear the fog from my eyes. To force the haziness of sleep to lift itself. And as I slowly pulled out of my deep slumber, last night came barreling back.
Including what Brody had done for me.
Brody. Is that who’s beside me?
Every movement of my neck hurt, as if my body had been stung by a trillion bees. Every part of me ached. My ankles and wrists, too. I whimpered in pain and the shadow beside me jumped. The figure whipped around, and I screamed out. Literally, screamed.
“It’s okay. It’s just me. I’m here. Abby, it’s Brody. Calm down.”
With his lips pressed against my ear, I relaxed. Immediately. I drew in shallow breaths as tears rushed my eyes. I leaned against him. His lips traced the outline of my ear. And I could’ve sworn they puckered against my skin.
Did he just… kiss me?
“Brody,” I whispered.
“I’m right here. You’re safe, okay? We’re in your hotel suite.”
I nodded slowly. “I know.”
“Does that hurt?”
“A lot hurts.”
“Can you be more specific?”
I sighed. “Uh, my neck hurts.”
“What kind of pain is it?”
“I need coffee for this conversation.”
“Not until I can figure out what else hurts.”
How Brody hadn’t taken advantage of last night, I’d never know. I mean, he had me naked. In a tub. At his surrender with every rub of that soapy washcloth over my skin. He could have had his way with me. Done anything, and I probably would have gone along with it just so I didn't have to fight anymore. It shocked me, really. Men always took what they wanted. They always took advantage any chance they got.
It was why I always stayed home instead of having a social life back in Switzerland.
Even in that beautiful country, men were pigs and nothing more.
Not Brody, though.
Apparently.
“I need you to answer me,” he said.
The gravelly sleep-ridden voice sent shivers down my spine.
“Uh, it’s a dull pain in my neck,” I said.
“Good.”
“Good?”
“Sharp means a possible hospital trip. Dull means your muscles are sore.”
“My wrists and ankles hurt a lot, too.”
“Sharp pains?”
I shook my head slowly. “No, still dull.”
“Is any pain sharp?”
Only the pain of my pride. “No. Just a dull ache everywhere.”
“All right. Let me send for some coffee. There’s room service here, right?”
I snickered. “Your mother always needed the best.”
He paused, but he didn’t say anything. And when he slid off the bed, I wanted to reach out to bring him back. I still couldn’t believe I had been kidnapped. Less than two hours after my father’s fucking funeral, and I had already become a way to squeeze ransom out of the Callaghan family. And Brody had paid without batting an eyelash. Why the fuck did Liam do it? He was supposed to be helping me. I mean, sure, he was a pig. An idiot, unlike his father. But did his father order him to do it?
That wasn’t possible. His father was a great friend of mine. And my father’s. His father would never order him to do something like that.
Right?
“Are you hungry?” Brody asked.
I sighed. “No.”
“I’ll order you some fruit to snack on.”
“Glad my opinion didn't matter.”
He didn’t respond, though. I heard the murmuring of his voice in the other room before he reappeared beside me. And as his hands fell against my upper thigh, I jumped.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“Even with basic pain medication, we have to work some of this soreness out. I can call up a private masseuse or we can keep this quiet. Your choice.”
I gazed into his stern stare before nodding.
“Fine. Whatever,” I said.
His hands massaged my muscles and I groaned. Holy shit, it hurt. It hurt and felt fantastic at the same time. How was that even possible? He worked his way down my leg, massaging my inner thighs and working his way down to my ankles. He rolled my foot around, causing me to hiss.
But my sounds didn’t deter him from his course.
As he worked his way up my other leg, a sizzle worked its way back up my spine. The touch of his fingertips sent me through the room. I tried my best not to groan every time he dug his hands against my muscles. His touch ignited something inside me. It churned my gut. Suddenly, my thoughts turned to more salacious adventures.
And all because of the palms of his hands.
“Let me know if it’s too much,” Brody murmured.
“Oh, never,” I moaned.
He paused and my eyes ripped open before his chuckle filled the space around us.
“Noted,” he said.
His hands moved up my inner thighs. Digging in. Releasing my muscles. Pushing some of the soreness away. My pussy jumped for him and my panties dampened. Wait, no. Did I have panties on?
I rose my head up and saw I was still naked.
“Holy shit,” I murmured.
“You smell divine, by the way.”
My eyes widened as I blushed furiously at his words.
“I—uh—I just—”
“Don’t worry. I’m just massaging you,” he said.
His fingertips brushed against my lower lips, though. Making them jump. Making my abs contract. Making my tits softly move against my chest before he rolled me over.
“Time for your back,” he said.
I moaned with his touch. I didn’t even try to hide it any longer. It felt much too good. The pain didn’t hold a candle to how my body yearned for him. Even at my father’s funeral, my eye had been on him. For other reasons, of course. But Brody’s brute muscles and gravelly voice called to something within me.
Something I hadn’t found in Swiss-world.
“Are you okay from last night?” he asked.
I sighed at his touch. “Yeah, I’m good.”
“Are you sure? I mean, in your mind? In your heart?”
His hands massaged my ass cheeks and I groaned against my pillow.
“Oh, yeah. I’m good there.”
He chuckled. “Good to know.”
He spread my legs and massaged my hamstrings. He worked his way down my calves as a wet spot grew between my legs. I shivered at his touch. My nipples puckered against the soft sheets of the hotel bed. I couldn't contain myself any longer. I wanted to know what he felt like.
My mind fell into darkness as I slowly lifted my hips.
Brody chuckled as his hands fell away from my body. With my arms outstretched, fisting the sheets, I wiggled my ass softly at him, jiggling for his viewing pleasure. He slid from the bed, his presence circling around. Taking me in from every angle as I let my knees slide away from one another. Slowly parting my wet pussy lips.
“So, what are you gonna do about it?” I asked.
“
You don't know what you’re opening, Abby.”
“I’m sure I have some idea.”
“This isn’t a road you want to go down.”
“I don’t know. I’m pretty sure my scent says differently.”
He let out a soft growl before I heard shuffling around. The sound of a belt buckle clinked around in the air before clothes piled against the floor. I braced myself. I waited for him to fill me. For him to slide against my walls and spread me in ways I hadn’t experienced since my college days.
“Brody, please,” I whispered.
Then, I felt his tongue against my wetness.
“Oh, shit,” I moaned.
His face seated itself against my ass cheeks as his tongue extended. He lapped me up, flicking my eager clit before filling my pussy with his tongue. I bucked back against him. I bounced my ass against his face. He licked me from my clit to my asshole, rimming that tight, puckered little bud. I whimpered at the feel of him. At the warmth of his tongue. At the way he gripped my hips. He slurped me down, devouring me with every stroke as my legs trembled.
“I want to feel you. Brody, please. Fill me up.”
He cracked his hand against my ass cheek and I moaned.
“Shit.”
“Such a bad girl, telling me what to do. Take what’s given to you and know your place.”
His words should’ve angered me. But all they did was spur me on. I bucked back against his face, wanting nothing more than to feel our bodies intertwined. One finger eased into me. His hands fell away from my hips. I pushed against him, feeling him fill me with a second finger before softly stroking my walls.
“That’s it. Swallow those fingers, sexy.”
“Fuck,” I hissed.
He cracked his hand against my ass again. “Such foul language. Who’s my sweet girl?”
I whimpered. “Me.”
“Who’s my innocent little angel?”
“Oh, me, Brody.”
“Who wants to cum all over my face like a good girl?”
I groaned. “Me. Me. Me. Brody, please. Me.”
I fucked myself against his fingers. My juices sprayed against his skin. He chuckled as my cheeks flushed with embarrassment. Yet, I didn't hate it. In fact, I liked it. I loved it. The humiliation of soaking him. His words, talking down to me. I cried out as my orgasm raced through my veins, clenching every sore muscle.
Brody: The Callaghan Mafia #2 Page 4
