Scottish Swag

by Cristina Grenier

He managed to shower and grab some breakfast before checking his phone to see if she had sent him any last minute information. He expected to see at least ten texts from the high-strung beauty. Savannah always liked to be perfectly prepared for everything, and they had been planning this for a good long while.

  But Torran was surprised to find radio silence from Savannah’s end.

  It was close to one in the afternoon and she hadn’t called him once? Had she passed out somewhere? He supposed it wouldn’t be too surprising. She’d been working the hell out of herself for the past few weeks, so she probably wasn’t getting enough sleep. He planned on rectifying that after his fight by spending the foreseeable future in bed with her.

  But he couldn’t have her disappearing on him now.

  With half an eye on the news, Torran dialed her number as he prepared to head to Long Island. He expected her to answer on the first ring, incensed that he’d woken so late. Instead, after ringing six times, the answering machine picked up.

  Though he knew it was probably unfounded, a prickle of worry nudged the nape of his neck. Torran didn’t leave a message, choosing instead to call her office to see if he could catch her there. Carthright, her simpering boss, was all too happy to tell him that she hadn’t been in for the past three days or so, and Torran resisted the urge to reach through the phone and choke him.

  Where the hell was his publicist?

  In a last ditch effort to get ahold of her, Torran called her father. He knew that Tyrone was probably crazy busy trying to balance training him and his gym, but he needed to know that Savannah was alright. Call him crazy, but something didn’t feel right. Not when Savannah wasn’t calling him every other minute.

  When Tyrone picked up the phone, he sounded irate. “Man, I know you got a whole lot of better stuff to do than calling me. What’s up?”

  Torran’s lips twitched in amusement. “Is Savannah there with you? I’ve been trying to get ahold of her.”

  There was a pregnant pause before Tyrone answered, his tone suspiciously tight. “I thought she was with you. She hasn’t been answering my calls.”

  Torran immediately stiffened as his chest tightened reflexively.

  Savannah hadn’t spoken to her father or him all day?

  Somehow, he didn’t think she would have just forgone communication completely. “Tyrone, I’ll call you back. I’m going to try to reach her again.”

  “Ok. Torran,” Tyrone hesitated slightly and the Irishman could tell that he wasn’t the only one worried, “Just let me know when you get a hold of her.”

  “Sure thing.” Once he hung up, Torran had to force himself to take a deep breath. If Savannah wasn’t with her father and she wasn’t at work, she had to be somewhere with her cell phone. As a publicist, she’d never leave home without it.

  But she wasn’t answering her phone.

  Despite his mounting apprehension, Torran was pretty sure calling the cops would be overkill at this point. Not to mention that it would bring unwanted publicity to him when he was supposed to be getting in the mindset to fight.

  Not that he could even do that without knowing where Savannah was.

  After a moment of careful contemplation, Torran decided to visit both his own office and the fight venue, just to make sure she wasn’t in either of those places either. With any luck, he’d find her wondering why he wasn’t at the gym. Of course, this meant he’d have to work his way through the inevitable tide of reporters outside both his apartment building and Madison Square Garden - but he cared less with every moment that passed. He just wanted to hear her voice.

  Torran had one foot in the elevator when his phone began to ring. He reached for it with such force that he fumbled it before looking at the number scrolling across the screen.

  It was Savannah.

  The tightness in his chest released almost instantly and Torran blew out a breath before answering. “Christ, woman. I was about to tear half the city apart. Where the hell are you?”

  The voice that answered him was hauntingly familiar - and bitingly cruel. “Maybe if you’re a good laddie, Torran, I’ll tell you.”

  The entire world fell away and Torran felt every muscle in his body seize.

  Fuck.

  Fuck.

  For a moment, he was so shocked that he thought he had to be dreaming. This was a horrible nightmare and he’d wake any moment with Savannah safely clutched in his arms.

  It took him a good fifteen seconds to regain his composure, but once he did, Torran felt cold fury start to suffuse him. “What the fuck do you want, Two Finger?”

  On the other end of the line, the criminal’s low chuckle made his fists clench. “I think I’d be a little nicer to someone who had my little piece, eh, Torran?”

  Torran swallowed the bile rising in his throat. He didn’t need to ask himself if Two Finger was crazy enough to kill her - that was a foregone conclusion. He had no doubt that the man was going to tell him exactly what he wanted Torran to do to prevent that happening - just as he knew that perhaps it had been a mistake to so look forward to tonight’s fight.

  “Let me talk to her.” First thing was first - he had to make sure she was Ok. He swore to God that if Two Finger had touched one hair on her head, he was going to find the fucker and turn him inside out.

  “Easy there, Torran. She’s perfectly fine...for the most part.”

  Torran almost crushed the phone in his powerful hand. “Let me talk to her.”

  “Fine, fine. Suit yourself.” There was a low rustling noise and then a low, soft cry of pain that made his heart stutter in his chest. But then, finally, he heard Savannah’s voice.

  “Torran?”

  Fucking Christ. Two Finger had her and Torran had no idea where she was. “I’m here, baby.” He did the best he could to keep the infuriated tremor from his voice. “Are you OK? Did he hurt you?”

  “I’m fine, Torran. Listen to me: Go to the cops. Don’t listen to a word he says. This guy is on thin ice and he knows it-” A sharp yelp escaped her and then, all at once, Two Finger was back on the line.

  “Mouthy little thing, isn’t she?”

  Torran growled in warning. “If you fucking touch her-”

  “You make a lot of threats for a man holding none of the cards.” Torran had never wanted to kill someone so badly in his life. “Maybe if you ask me nicely I’ll tell you what you’re going to do for me to get her back.”

  The fighter thought taking his head might be a good start, but considering he was in no position to do so, he forced himself to remain silent. He was already running over what he guessed would be Two Finger’s list of demands in his head. The criminal would, of course, want him to throw another fight. Atop that, he might want some bribe money - both things Torran wouldn’t think twice about if it meant getting Savannah back.

  “You’re going to cancel the fight tonight. In fact, you’re going to cancel every fight you have for the foreseeable future, because you’re going to retire. I don’t ever want to see you in a cage again.” Torran swallowed thickly. The thought of doing such a thing after all Savannah had gone through to get him back in the cage made him slightly sick; but he couldn’t say he hadn’t been expecting it.

  “Fine.” He didn’t want it. Fighting allowed him to be his true self - in the cage, he worried about what no one thought. He remembered where he had come from, and where he was going. But what good was all of that without Savannah by his side? “Whatever you want. Just let her go.”

  “Oh, but I’m not done yet.” Two Finger was quick to sweeten the deal. “I also want you to draw up some papers for all the controlling stock you hold in your company and prepare to sign it over to me.”

  All the blood drained from Torran’s face.

  The controlling stock in his company? Two Finger couldn’t be serious. There was no way. As it currently stood, he had controlling stock in his company. That was what his financial advisors suggested he do to make sure he maintained control of the firm. If he sold the stocks off,
not only would the company be under someone else, but he would have almost no say in how it was run.

  In essence, Two Finger was asking him to give up Warrick’s legacy.

  “You know that’s impossible, don’t you?” Torran kept his voice tightly controlled. “I can’t just sign the shares over to you. They have to be bought; and not only that, I can’t get paperwork like that in one day. It would take weeks. Months, even.” It was the truth. Certainly, Torran wasn’t keen on giving his company over to Two Finger, but with Savannah’s life hanging in the balance, he wasn’t about to lie to him.

  “Well that’s a crying shame, because I’m giving you five hours. If you haven’t brought the paperwork to me at Chelsea Piers, I’m going to rearrange little Savannah’s face, among other things. Does that sweeten the deal for you?”

  Torran didn’t think he’d ever felt so helpless. Not when he was a kid on the streets stealing his own food, or when he was worried he might freeze overnight during a cold Dublin winter. No, this was much, much worse than that.

  Five hours. How the hell was he going to do anything in five hours? He couldn’t even properly cancel the fight in that amount of time. Not without his publicist.

  While his head was still spinning with Two Finger’s demands, the criminal continued to make them. “You do this alone, Maloney. Get anyone else involved, breathe a word to the cops, and I swear to God I’ll send her to you piece by fucking piece. Do we understand one another?”

  He was purposefully making unreasonable demands. Any fucking idiot could see that. Two Finger was pissed that Torran hadn’t gotten the hint the first time and now he was intent on punishing him. He had Savannah, and he was going to do God knew what to her.

  And there was nothing Torran could do. Nothing but what he asked.

  Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes in an attempt to curb the panic beginning to well in his chest. “I understand.”

  “There’s a good lad then. Five hours, Maloney. Chelsea piers. Come get her or come watch her die.” With that, Two Finger hung up, leaving Torran staring down at his phone as if it had betrayed everything he held near and dear.

  But Torran knew he was really the only one to blame. It was he who had done this. If Savannah hadn’t been so hell bent on getting him back in the ring, this could have all been avoided. If he had just fired her as his publicist, she would never have been in danger. Really, she had never understood how convoluted his past was. If she had, she would never have stood up for him.

  Fuck. Fuck.

  Torran raked both hands through his hair, his heart in his throat. What the fuck was he supposed to do? Short of bashing Two Finger’s head in, he had no brilliant plan for getting Savannah out of this. She was the planner. She would have kept a level head.

  But Savannah also would have known better than to tackle this alone. Two Finger explicitly told Torran that if he tried to go to the cops, he would kill her - so that was a no go. He had to find some other work around. In that moment, he had no time to talk to anyone about the fight. Whether he was there or not mattered little. He was more concerned with finding some way to placate Two Finger.

  Either placate him or take him out.

  Sliding his phone into his back pocket, Torran tried to focus. He needed to figure this out, and he had no time to do so. There was no one he knew who could help him - no one who would be righteously pissed enough to try and help him rescue the woman he loved…

  But that was wrong.

  The realization bowled over him like a ton loader. There was absolutely someone who loved Savannah enough to fight for her - perhaps even more than Torran himself. Of course, the Irishman would probably be signing his own death warrant in contacting him to tell him what happened. But honestly, at this juncture, what choice did he have?

  Chapter 13: Victory

  If Torran thought Tyrone would be pissed when he told him his daughter had been kidnapped by a ruthless Irish national, he was absolutely right. At first, his trainer looked at him as if he thought he might be crazy. When it finally dawned on him that Torran wasn’t joking, however, Tyrone’s expression hardened. “Fuck.” He blew out an angry breath, bracing his long form against his desk as every muscle in his body tensed. “Fuck.” It was pretty much a mirror reaction of Torran’s own feelings.

  “I’m going to get her back, Tyrone. I swear I will.” Granted, he had no idea how, but that wasn’t going to stop him trying. “I’ll figure this out. It’s my fault Savannah is even wrapped up in this shit. If I had known this would happen I would have fucking...Christ, I would have-”

  “What would you have done?” Tyrone interjected, his voice oddly soft as he stared Torran down from across his desk. “Do tell.”

  Torran bristled at his challenging tone. “I would have fired her! Made sure she got as far away from me as humanly possible. None of this is worth her getting hurt! None of it.”

  Silence reigned in the wake of his little outburst, and Torran had to force himself to take a deep breath. He felt as if every minute that passed was another in which Savannah could be hurt - or worse.

  “If you think that you could have stopped Savannah from doing something she was determined to do, then you underestimate her.” To Torran’s surprise, a faint smile played about Tyrone’s lips. “She was bound and determined to help you. To make you help yourself. She wouldn’t have let you push her away.”

  Torran opened his mouth, then shut it. What the fuck was he supposed to say? That Tyrone was right? That his daughter was stubborn and never did what she was told? That that was exactly why Torran wouldn’t be able to live with himself if something happened to her?

  “Tyrone, I swear to God, I’m going to get Savannah back. And once I do...I won’t let her go again.” Torran didn’t need to say anything more. He wasn’t the kind of man that did sappy outpourings of affection or male bonding. But one look at Tyrone’s face told him the man knew exactly what he was saying.

  That Savannah was the common link between them, and that either of them would do anything for her.

  “So we go together then.” Tyrone straightened, already reaching for his coat. “Odds are against us, but we really don’t have much of a choice.”

  “Wait.” Before he could start out of his office, Torran stopped Tyrone with a hand on his shoulder. “Tyrone...I know it sounds insane, but I need to do this alone.”

  Immediately, the older man frowned in disapproval. “Torran, this isn’t some kind of game. No one gives a damn about your machismo. This is my baby girl we’re talking about here.”

  “Which is why I need you to handle the fight,” Torran rebutted, as calmly as he could manage. “Savannah would be pissed if she knew that all her hard work was going to waste because Two Finger thinks he has the upper hand. I’m going to get her. As long as you cover for me, we can fix everything when this is over. Please, Tyrone.”

  It was clear that the retired fighter didn’t like what Torran was asking him to do. In fact, Torran didn’t think he’d ever seen such a torn expression on Tyrone’s face. He leaned back against the desk, his eyes shutting tightly as he took a moment to himself. When he looked at Torran again, his expression was hard. “I’ll do what I can. But you bring my baby home, Torran, you got that?”

  Torran nodded curtly, reaching for the door as he started hatching a semblance of a plan. Without Savannah, it would be half-assed at best, but it was his only option if he wanted to save her, and all she had worked for.

  He just had to hope it didn’t backfire on him.

  **

  Savannah hadn’t had any problem believing what Torran told her about Two Finger. It wasn’t at all necessary for her to meet the man to understand the nature of his cruelty.

  But here she was, tied to a chair in some empty warehouse in Chelsea Pier literally living out a bad TV drama. Never in a thousand years would she have imagined that she would end up here. She should be at the Garden right now, making sure everything was in place for Torran’s fight. Instead, she
was wondering if she would ever see him again.

  Call her crazy, but Savannah didn’t want her lover to bend to Two Finger. While the man was clearly unstable, and she was sure he wouldn’t hesitate to kill her if Torran didn’t meet his demands, Savannah wanted to believe that the Irish fighter would retain his old, selfish habits. That he would forget about her, win his fight, and go on living his life.

  But that wouldn’t be the case. No, despite the impossibility of Two Finger’s demands, he would do what he could to meet them because he didn’t want her to get hurt.

  Savannah was equal parts infuriated and terrified. When Torran didn’t come up with the paperwork to transfer his stocks, she was certain that Two Finger and the men who were with him would take great pleasure in killing her - slowly. She’d already seen them drag the girl who delivered Chinese food to them into some back room to do God-knew-what to her, leering at her all the while.