by Rye Hart
It also left me wondering – which one was the real Killian? Accountant or sociopath?
“We'll do whatever we have to do,” he said, his voice soft, but not in the least bit reassuring. “Family comes first, Kara. I'll do whatever it takes to protect my own family, to keep them all safe, and more importantly, free. And since you know who we are now – well, I think you can figure out the rest.”
With that, he turned to Declan. “Keep her safe, for now. I'll set you both up with a place to stay, and in the meantime, we can take care of Jack for you,” he said. “Remember, if she gets out – there are others more dangerous than us are out there. They're all probably looking for her, and they likely won't be as nice as you are. Keep your head up, brother.”
Great. So Declan here was my only chance at remaining safe and in one piece. He turned and when our eyes met, I felt a breath catch in my throat. While part of me wanted to believe the good I saw in him, and he seemed to hold some sympathy in those eyes as he looked at me, I had to balance it out against who he was. What he did. The fact of the matter was, he still worked for a ruthless son of a bitch like Killian. He couldn't be a good guy working for someone like that. It just wasn't possible – and if what Killian said is true, family likely came first for him too.
Which meant nothing good was going to come out of this for me.
CHAPTER FIVE
DECLAN
Kara sat in the backseat of the car Killian loaned me as I drove. The doors in the back couldn't be opened from the inside – some sort of safety feature. Childproof locks or something, I supposed. Either way, she wasn't getting out, especially since her hands were still tied, something she wasn't happy about and made sure to remind me of anytime I tried to talk to her.
“You know, I don't like this either,” I grumbled.
“Well you're not the one with your hands tied,” she answered.
The windows in the black were tinted so dark, she could barely see out and no one could see in. Yet, she stared at the black window as if she could watch the world passing her by without a problem at all. Killian told me to blindfold her, but I refused. She was still a human being, and this little babysitting job felt shitty enough as it was. If Killian hadn't made it a point to remind me she'd be in worse danger if we let her go, well, I wouldn't be doing this at all. As shitty as I felt, at least I could take some small comfort in knowing I could keep her safe.
Also, he had my son. Not that I thought Killian would hurt his own nephew, but I had no desire to take that chance if I did something to piss him off. I knew my brother wasn't what he appeared to be most of the time, but I'd seen sides of my brother that still surprised me. If it wasn't for the life of his family, I might suspect he was a sociopath. Hell, maybe he was. Maybe the love he had for his wife and kids was fake – emotions that weren't real and were designed simply to make him appear normal. Maybe, having a family and a nice, suburban kind of life helped him blend into society and the world around him better. Maybe he was that good of an actor after all.
The idea that both of my brothers were scumbags didn't sit well with me. I remember that at one point in our lives, we'd been normal kids. We played together. We enjoyed movies and action figures and working on cars. We talked about girls and what we wanted to be when we grew up.
Of the three of us, I was the only one who actually set out to live my dream. I'd always wanted to be a fighter. Even as a kid, I was incredibly interested in MMA. But, somewhere along the lines, my brothers gave up their dreams. Killian had wanted to be a surgeon. Rory had wanted to be a race car driver. Typical dreams for boys, maybe, that are easily discarded as we grow and mature. But, to think that my brothers were both criminal masterminds, possibly even killers, who had no sense of right or wrong filled me with remorse and guilt – and plenty of sadness and loss. They hadn't always been that way.
“Where are we going?” Kara asked.
Her brown eyes were the largest thing on her face. Her skin was pale, contrasting with the rich darkness of her hair. She looked young to me and innocence shone from her in ways I hadn't seen in myself in years. Then again, I was probably pretty jaded growing up the way I had.
Not that it sounded like her life had been any better or easier than mine.
“I don't know,” I muttered as I stared at the GPS that Killian had programmed for me. “But wherever we're going, we'll apparently be there in a couple of minutes.”
We were outside the city of Chicago and had been for a while. Skyscrapers and car-packed streets had long been replaced by corn fields and empty roads that stretched out as far as the eye could see. That was the thing about Chicago – it was a major, metropolitan city in the middle of flyover country. Outside of Chicago, there really isn't much to see other than a lot of lonely roads and farms.
The GPS told me to turn down a one-lane road that was paved – though, just barely. Gravel still coated the road in spots, shooting upward and clanking against the wheel well as the car jostled while we drove over the many bumps and through the even more numerous holes. I squinted to see what was up ahead, but there was nothing. There was nothing but trees as far as the eye could see.
I kept driving for what felt like an eternity, especially at the speed we were going – which was snail's pace slow, to hopefully avoid damaging the tires on the car. My brother had loaned me a black BMW, the nicest car I'd ever personally driven before, and it made me nervous. The last thing I wanted to do was return it with dents, dings, or any sort of mechanical issue.
Finally, the road opened up to a large driveway, and we pulled up to a house at the very end of it. It was set back behind some trees, hidden from easy view. You really had to be looking for the place to actually find it.
I parked and stared at the house for a good, long while. It felt familiar for some reason, but I couldn't place it. It was a nice cabin. Small, but well-maintained. A tall privacy fence circled most of the house, and around the driveway we were parked in. A gate could be closed and locked, keeping us inside the fenced in area. It felt claustrophobic and made it seem almost prison-like even to think about that.
Kara didn't say a word, but she stared at the cabin as well. She bit her lower lip, straining to see over the seat.
“I guess this is home for the next few days,” I said, running a hand through my beard.
“Not my home,” she muttered.
I shrugged. She had a point. It wasn't home. Not even my home. Something felt off about the place. About everything. It was entirely too quiet, as if the wind didn't even dare blow out here. I could hear no birds, no nothing. It was like the whole world around us had drawn in a breath and was holding it. I opened the car door and climbed out. I considered checking the place out before getting Kara out of the car, but I wasn't sure I should leave her alone. I wasn't convinced she wouldn't try to run away. The back doors might not open from the inside, but the front ones did. If she tried running, well, she probably wouldn't get very far, but she could end up hurt or worse in these woods. I was tasked with keeping an eye on her, while keeping her safe, which meant I couldn't take anything for granted and had to keep her by my side.
I grabbed the back door handle and pulled it open. Since I couldn't see in, I wasn't prepared for her. Kara had braced her legs against the door, so when it opened, she pistoned them forward, driving her feet straight into my groin. I hunched over, cursing under my breath as the pain radiated through my crotch.
Of all the places she could have kicked me, she knew where to aim alright to inflict maximum pain. She kept kicking and screaming, flailing as she climbed from the car. She expected to get past me, but I'd experienced enough pain in fights over the course of my career to not let my guard down. As she started to go by me, I reached out and grabbed her by her shoulders.
“Let me go!” she screamed.
Her hands were still tied, but that didn't stop her from squirming and using the rest of her body as a weapon. I kept hold of her while she kicked at me bit at me, and narrowly dodged a
few more well-placed feet that would have been driven straight into my balls if I'd been any slower.
“Kara, listen to me,” I said, keeping my voice calm. “I'm not going to hurt you.”
She spat in my face and continued to fight me. I pulled her in closer to me, to get a better grip. With my hands clamped down firmly, her tight little body was pressed against mine , my cock responded to the feel of her, but if she felt or realized it, she ignored it. I held her in a bear hug, crushing her to me until she was unable to squirm or flail anymore.
“Kara, stop it. I'm actually trying to help you,” I whispered. “I'm not the bad guy here.”
“You kidnapped me, how dare you say you're not the bad guy,” she hissed.
Her eyes were filled with rage, even though she could no longer fight against me. I had no doubts though, that if she'd had a gun in her hand in that moment, I'd already be dead with half a dozen bullets in me.
“I didn't have a choice,” I said. “Now listen, Killian said there are others after you. Or rather, after your father, which means they'll be after you by default since he skipped down. And since I know I'm not a killer, I'm going to keep you here. I'm going to protect you and keep you safe. Just until they find your father, okay?”
“You'll never find him,” she said. Her voice was soft and sad. “He's long gone. He's not coming back for me.”
“Then we'll figure something else out. Just bear with me, Kara,” I said. “Everything is going to be okay. I promise you that I'm not a monster.”
“No, you're only related to them, huh?” she said, her voice filled with sarcasm.
“I am,” I said. “I can't deny that. And I can't really do anything about it, either.”
She relaxed in my arms just a bit and eyed me skeptically. Although we were practically nose-to-nose, she still managed to look me up and down, her gaze judging me. It was as if she was taking my measure. Sizing me up.
“You really aren't like them, are you?” she asked slowly, her voice soft.
“I'm not. I got roped into this mess, and I will see it through, but of all the people to watch you, I'm your best chance at getting out of here alive,” I said earnestly. “Got it?”
She hesitated, but then nodded. I could still see the fear in her eyes though. She didn't entirely trust me. Which was understandable.
“Does that mean you're not going to fight me if I let you go?”
She nodded again.
I relaxed my grip on her, and she didn't fight me. Instead, she relaxed too. I let go of her and she stood there, still standing right against me. I stared into those deep, brown eyes for far too long, finding myself getting lost in them. God, she was a beautiful woman. Her long, brown hair was a knotted mess around her face and shoulders, but even still, she was stunning.
If the situation had been any different, I'd have totally been down for hooking up with her right then and there. But, considering the circumstances, I didn't see that being a very likely option between us. I had a hard time believing she'd be able to put aside all of her fear and anger long enough, to have some great sex with me.
“Alright, let's go inside,” I said, tearing my eyes away from hers. “I promise you, this won't be a prison. It'll be a shelter. I'll keep you safe.”
“Why?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper.
“Why what?” I asked, genuinely curious about her question. “Why would I go along with this?”
She nodded. “You seem like a decent man,” she says. “Why would you get involved with kidnapping and extorting others for money.
I sighed, the weight of her question heavy on me, and it took a moment to formulate my response. I didn't know why, but I felt like I could be honest with her, needed to be honest with her. There was just something about her that inspired me to give her truthful answers to her questions. She didn't ask for this mess any more than I had. “I didn't want to. But, I did it because I just found out I have a son, and I needed the money,” I said. “Now Killian has my son, and while I don't think he'll hurt the kid – I can't be sure. And I don't want to take chances with his life. So for now, I go along with what he says, and I hope you will too. Not just for your sake, but for my little boy's sake too.”
My honesty seemed to touch something inside of her. Her eyes no longer looked angry, her mouth was open as if she wanted to say something but couldn't find the words.
“I – I'm sorry to hear all of that. That must be awful,” she whispered. “But, what I was actually asking was, why you'd protect me? Why you'd keep me safe? I mean, I'm no one to you. Just the daughter of some scumbag who owes your family money.”
“That back there? What you saw? That's not my family,” I said, shaking my head. “Not anymore, at least. I'm not like them and I'm not going to let an innocent woman get hurt in a mess that wasn't her doing in the least. No matter how much money they pay me. Nothing is worth killing for. Nothing at all. Their beef is with your father, not you. And I aim to keep it that way.”
“Not even your son?” she asked me, tilting her head to the side. “What if it comes down to making a choice between him or me?”
I didn't have an answer for that. Averting my gaze, I took a step back and motioned for her to follow me.
“Come on. Before it gets dark,” I said. “We should get inside.”
I took her arm but held it gently as I guided her toward the front of the house. Surprisingly, she followed me inside without another fight.
Stepping inside, I was hit with a wave of nostalgia. Memories came flooding back to me in bits and pieces, but it was all abstract and fuzzy. There was nothing solid or concrete forming in my head. It was all just snippets of images from childhood. My mom and my dad were in those little fragments of memory, which meant I had to be young.
Kara watched me, closely, as I studied the inside of the cabin. Nothing had changed. The furniture had been kept up well but was old. The wood paneling on the walls dated the cabin, along with the dark brown shag carpeting. A leather sofa sat against one wall, with a loveseat running perpendicular to that, facing a fireplace. The walls were empty of pictures, but in my head, I could see the frames lining the walls. My eyes and memory filled in the gaps, the missing memories. Remembering what once was.
I walked through the house in a daze, searching for something I couldn't comprehend. The kitchen on the right side opened up, and the appliances were old, but sufficient enough to get us by. A large white refrigerator, 70's style wood cabinets, and a small Formica table with matching chairs was crammed into the corner of the room.
This was where the memories hit me the hardest. In my mind, I saw my mother, standing at the kitchen sink. My brothers and I, not even school-aged yet sitting at the table, coloring. My father was nowhere to be found, but music and laughter filled the room.
We were happy.
“What is it?” Kara asked.
She'd stepped up behind me and I jumped. Startled. I'd almost forgotten she was there.
“This is my childhood home,” I said. “I lived here, a long time ago.”
She looked around. “Looks like no one has lived here in a while.”
“Yeah,” I said. “But, it looks almost the same as it did back then.”
I turned and left the kitchen, making my way down the hallway. I passed the first door, then the second, and stopped at the last door at the end. It was shut, so I opened the door. As it swung inward, it creaked and squealed on hinges that desperately needed to be oiled.
The door opened up onto a child's bedroom. Bunk beds were stacked against one wall, a single bed squished onto the other one. There was hardly enough room for anything else. The walls were painted a dark blue, which only made the room seem smaller. A smile tugging the corners of my mouth, I looked up, and it was just as I remembered it – the ceiling was dotted with glow in the dark stars.
The beds had no bedding on them. They were just old mattresses on older bed frames, but I could still picture the vibrantly colored blankets we used to hav
e. Rory's had cars on them, while Killian and I had matching bedding with Star Wars characters. I couldn't even remember if we'd seen the movies at that point, or if we had merely enjoyed the concept.
A smile pulled at my lips as wave after wave of nostalgia rolled over me.
Again, Kara stepped up behind me, her voice taking me by surprise. “This must have been your room?” she said softly.
“It was.”
I had forgotten all about this place. I'd probably been too young to really remember it the last time we'd been there. Only being there now and seeing that it had been left almost as it had been when we moved – preserved, almost like a tomb – brought all the memories crashing back down over me.
We couldn't have lived there long. Most of my memories were of living downtown Chicago, in a number of nicer homes. That was after my father had gone from being a measly bar owner to selling drugs and guns, among other things. He'd done what he had to do to lift us out of our situation, helping us to live better lives.
Many might call him a hero for that. But, considering the things I'd seen growing up, I had a hard time believing that our lives actually were for the better.
After all, we were happy there, in that tiny little house once upon a time too. I remember there had been laughter and playing, kids being kids. A family that maybe didn't have the nicest of things in life, didn't have a lot overall – but at least, we'd had each other.
Had we stayed there, had my father not sold his soul, my brothers might not be the monsters they were today. Maybe they'd be decent human beings. Maybe they wouldn't be cold-blooded killers.
“What is it?” Kara asked.
“Nothing.”
I turned and left the room, and she followed quickly behind me. I shut the door, trying to forget about the past and what might have been had my dad made different choices in life.
“Bathroom is right here,” I said, flipping the switch and surprised that the light came on.
Someone kept up the utilities on apparently. The bathroom was pretty average fare – toilet, sink and tub with a shower. No bells or whistles, but it was all clean. I was surprised that someone was really keeping up with things around the place. Which, given that it was old and unused, was strange to me.
