“Please don’t, Miss,” Cole said as if he’d read my mind. “Mr. Hyland’s men would find you, and he would make you pay.”
Sniffing back tears, I realized he was correct again. I should just cede and accept my fate, but walking toward a life of servitude as Sean’s unlucky wife was doing nothing to appease my worries.
“There you are.” I glanced up to find one of Sean’s colossal security guys looming by the entrance. “The boss is waiting. Let’s move, darling,” he smirked, his ugly mouth twisting into a grin as Cole supported me while I hobbled up the steps.
“The lady is negotiating her way in very perilous footwear.” It was Cole who spoke on my behalf. “You can advise Mr. Hyland, she’s on her way.”
“Looks like you’re enjoying your job a little too much there, old man.” The hideous guy waiting at the door sneered as I finally made it to where he waited.
“Don’t be crude,” Cole retorted. “I am doing as Mr. Hyland ordered, not ogling his wife-to-be. Can you say the same?”
“If the boss hadn’t wanted me to stare, why dress her like a whore?” The ugly stranger licked his lips, and instinctively, I recoiled, trying to pull away from Cole’s grasp.
“What Mr. Hyland chooses is up to him.” Cole was firm, just like his hold on me. “Now, I suggest you move out of our way and let the lady past.”
“Don’t see no lady here,” the brawny idiot sniggered as he stepped aside. “But sure, Cole. Off you go.”
With a sigh, Cole guided me into the vestibule, and just like my freedom, my days as a single woman seemed irrefutably doomed.
Chapter Eighteen
Sean
THERE SHE WAS—THE WOMAN I was going to marry. If you’d asked me, even a few short weeks ago, if I even wanted to wed, I’d have laughed in your face. Marriage was literally the last thing on my mind as I touched the ground in this shitty city, but it only went to illustrate what Zander always told me—you just never knew. Never knew which way the wind would blow, couldn’t anticipate what your rivals would do, and never knew what life would throw at you. Watching as Cole left Hilary’s side and, she inched up the long aisle in my direction, her chest heaving, I acknowledged just how right my uncle had been. Life had offered me Hilary, and rather than dismissing her, I’d opened my arms. In the limited time we’d been together, she had been the answer to many of the riddles I was here to solve. She focused my mind, helping to consolidate what Zander had left, and presenting the perfect opportunity to exact revenge on the son-of-a-bitch who’d slain my uncle in cold blood. In the meantime, she’d gifted me the perfect distraction, the best way to pass my time while I waited to clear up the mess Zander had left behind.
“She’s lovely.” Father Joseph leaned toward me, whispering over his prayer book. “Very appealing.”
Grinning at his assessment, I straightened my lapels. “Just wait until you see her on her knees, Father.”
Chuckling, he drew away, smoothing his vestments as we waited for Hilary’s arrival. Father Jo had known me since I was a child, had overseen my confirmation, and listened to more than one of my confessions. He was the obvious choice to orchestrate my nuptials. Glancing over my shoulder, I acknowledged it was time. Swallowing the scrutiny of those I’d invited to bear witness to our union, my bride had finally tottered her way to the alter. I smiled as she took her place by my side.
“Beautiful.”
It was only one murmured word, but it seemed to settle her. Maybe she was just pleased to have made it without incident, glad to have her back to the dozens of eyes now boring into her, though glancing down, her skirt was leaving little to their imaginations.
“Dearly beloved.”
Father Joseph began, and my attention slid back to him, though all I could think about was Hilary—the fact I couldn’t wait to get my hands on her, the fact she wasn’t wearing anything under that skimpy dress, and the fact that very soon, she’d be all mine. Time moved in odd pockets throughout the ceremony, parts speeding up in my mind while others lingered, but it wasn’t until the vows that my arousal truly soared. I’d asked Father Jo to shorten much of the ceremony, but this part was critical. I needed Hilary to be my good girl and play her part.
“And now for you, dear.” He turned to her. “Repeat after me. I, Hilary Joanne Mantle, take thee, Sean Phillip Hyland, to be my wedded husband.”
Hilary’s gaze darted to me, her eyes screaming the unvocalized question—how on earth had I known her full name when she’d never disclosed it? Though, of course, of all her concerns, I was sure that was the least.
“Hilary?” The priest prompted her into life, and she parroted back the correct words. A pang of pride burgeoned at her compliance, especially when coupled with her fabulous tits. Maybe today really could be the best day of my life. I’d always assumed those sorts of quips were only for show.
“To have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health...”
On the vows went, Hilary repeating the words like the compliant kitten I wanted, but next was the important line—the one where she’d need to admit obedience in front of God.
“To love, cherish, and to obey, ‘til death do us part, according to God’s holy ordinance, and thereto, I give thee my troth.”
Father Joseph paused, looking at my bride for her lines, and it seemed every guest in the place paused, taking a breath. Face blushing, she swallowed, her gaze eventually landing on mine. This was it, the significance of this moment undeniable, and she sensed it as well.
“To love, cherish, and to...” Hesitating, she drew in a deep breath, suddenly unable to meet my eyes.
Obey. I sent the word to her with my powerful stare, knowing she could feel its weight, even if she refused to acknowledge it. The word you’re looking for is obey.
“And to obey.” Succumbing to the growing pressure, she mumbled the words but loud enough for the congregation to hear, a loud cheer rising from the pews at her admission. Hilary’s cheeks burned even brighter as she was forced to wait until their applauds had died down before she could continue. I grinned as she forced out the final line, her gaze falling past her breasts to the floor.
“Very nice.” I reached for her hand, squeezing it in a show of support. “And now, since you have made your vows in front of God, I ask Father Joseph if I can interrupt and take control of your wonderful mouth.”
The priest smiled, already knowing what I had in mind. “Please do, my son.”
Reaching into my inside pocket, my fingers found the special gag I’d purchased for the occasion. The ball was small, the plastic and strap white to match her attire, but nothing compared to her terrified expression when I pulled the thing free and turned, dangling it in front of those assembled.
“Now that she has agreed to obey, let us begin as we mean to continue!” Once more, a swell of praise rose from the men I’d invited. Turning, my brow arched at my bride. “Don’t cause a fuss now,” I warned, moving toward her. “Open up like a good girl.”
“Sean.” She mouthed my name, her breathy tone making me even harder than her wrenching humiliation.
“Open.”
Outnumbered and hideously outmaneuvered, she accepted her plight, but there were tears in her eyes as her lips parted. Unmoved by her show of emotion, I shoved the white ball between her teeth and secured the strap behind her wonderful hair. Hilary had said everything she needed to say. I’d let her know when her mouth was required again.
Hilary
SHELLSHOCK. IT WAS once how observers had described the effects of war—the stunned silence and ringing in the ears of victims, the aftermath of intense trauma. That was how it was for me, standing there, arms still bound, half of my body on display, and a new gag strapped in place. Now that I’d forced the vows out, my speaking was over. I’d fallen into the pits of matrimony with Sean, and my escape routes were closing one by one. Pulling in hot ribbons of air, I struggled for composure, to hear past the banging of my incessa
nt heartbeat, to focus on the man in the robes officiating over this excuse of a ceremony, but no matter how hard I tried, that feat was impossible. Lips moved, twisting into suspicious smiles, and if I risked a glance over my shoulder, there were pews of people I didn’t know, leering faces I didn’t recognize, eyes drilling into me as they took in the skirt rising up my thighs and my shocked gagged expression. This—this was my nightmare playing out right in front of my eyes.
“Do you have the rings?”
The question floated past me, and turning back to Sean, another man I didn’t know passed a velvet cushion in his direction. Scanning the surface, my gaze drank in the rings, rising back to the man about to become my husband.
“God will forgive if we improvise this section.” The priest laughed. “It seems your bride is a little tied up.”
Sean chuckled at the apparent quip. “That’s true, Father. With this ring,” he collected the larger of the two, sliding it onto his ring finger. “I thee wed.”
Turning to me, his eyes shone, and the first time since I teetered to the altar, it was more than just satisfied glee I saw there. Collecting the smaller band, he walked around me, his breath hot at my neck.
“And I give you this ring as a token of my love and commitment, Hilary.”
I twisted in time to see him crouch behind me, identifying the correct finger and slipping the jewelry into place. As he rose, our gazes locked.
“It’s real platinum, of course. None of this gold crap.” Sean resumed his place at my side, the priest grinning as he lifted his arms.
“Sean and Hilary, through their words today, have been joined together in holy wedlock.”
My gaze fell to the priest’s robes, though I could feel the intensity of Sean’s stare.
“They have exchanged their vows before God and these witnesses, have pledged their commitment each to the other, and have declared the same by exchanging rings.” The man in the vestments paused. “Well, almost exchanged them.”
A rumble of laughter traveled around the vast space behind me.
“I now pronounce they are husband and wife.” The priest glanced at Sean. “At this point, I would usually suggest you kiss the bride, my friend, but alas, it seems you have already found another use for her sweet lips.”
“That’s true, Father.” Sean sniggered. “But worry not, I already have a substitute in mind, but it’s not for the altar of my Lord.”
My muscles tensed at the edgy quality of his voice.
“Of that, I have little doubt, my son.” The priest’s gaze flitted between Sean and me. “Then, you may lead your wife from God’s altar and begin your new life together.”
“Thank you, Father.” There was a dark twinkle in Sean’s gaze as he approached me. “I will.” Clasping the leash still hanging between my exposed breasts, he glowered at me. “I’m going to free your hands now.”
Tipping my head back to meet his fierce stare, I nodded, breathing in his spicy scent as he reached around me, tugging at the ribbon holding my wrists together.
“There.” He grinned, wrapping the length of ribbon around my neck while I flexed my hands at my side. “Down now, wife. You’re leaving this church as I expect you to be at all times unless otherwise commanded—on your hands and knees.”
For one long moment, I thought my heart had stopped hammering altogether, his words echoing around my head long after his lips had stopped speaking. What? He expected me to crawl out of here? Yet even as I queried the logic, I caught sight of the way he twirled the end of the leash in his hand, and suddenly, it was obvious. Of course, he wanted me to crawl. This was Sean. He always wanted me to crawl.
“Now.”
My knees buckled at the severity of his tone. I wanted to rip the plastic from my mouth and beg him to see reason, wanted to flee from the place with whatever decorum remained, but in the split second of intensity, all I could do was fold. As I crumpled to the carpeted altar, I despised myself for my weakness, loathed myself far more than I’d ever hated him. He was only a man—a man used to getting what he wanted—but I was used to men like that and experienced at deflecting their shit.
I should have known better.
Chapter Nineteen
Saul Morrison
TENSION GRIPPED MY stomach, reigniting the hurt that never went away, the gnawing strain that taunted me. Hilary was missing, but worse than that, she wasn’t really missing at all. I knew exactly where she was, who had taken her—Sean fucking Hyland. My jaw tightened as his smug, ugly face burst into my mind. Sean had taken her, held her, and done God knew what, and in some lunacy, presumably designed to rile me, he intended to marry her. Today was that day. The day he planned to put a ring on her finger, and despite my every instinct to ride in there and save her, I was impotent.
“Fuck.” The mounting pressure escaped in a low growl, my fingers grasping the tumbler of liquor even harder.
“Saul?” Dalton Reilly leaned toward me from the other side of the desk. “Are you okay?”
“Fine,” I hissed, my eyes squeezing closed as I swallowed the lie. I’d never been farther from fine, a fact Dalton, one of my oldest friends, was well aware. Everything had disintegrated since Hilary slipped away, profits from The Syndicate, the organization I ran with his and his brother’s help, had slumped, and the things I used to care about had suddenly lost their gloss.
“You’ll get her back.” Dalton’s tone begged protest as if even he didn’t believe the sentiment. “You know you will.”
“Too late,” I breathed out, though the apprehension furling inside knotted tighter. “It’s too late. They’re probably already married by now.”
Checking my expensive wristwatch, I saw the clock ticking past three o’clock. Most church weddings happened by this time of day, and we knew from our investigation, the bastard was planning on getting hitched at St. Felix.
“I still don’t understand why you don’t just go down there and take her back.”
I straightened at Connor Reilly’s analysis. Dalton’s younger brother had less finesse and far less concern about what people thought about him.
“Not helpful, Connor.” Dalton snarled from beside him. “We’ve been through this already. We just took Zander Hyland out in a massive gunfight, and it’s taken weeks of charm and money to iron out the creases that caused. We can’t just blast our way into a fucking church and burn down another part of the capital.” He threw Connor a knowing glower, the message in his gaze clear. Don’t start this shit again.
“I’m just saying it’s what I would have done.” Connor shrugged, his dark hair falling into his green eyes. “But I get it. It’s not so easy now.”
“He’s right.” The words nearly stuck in my throat. “I should have just gone after her.”
“No.” Dalton’s voice was emphatic. “You did the right thing, Saul.”
“Right for who?” I snapped, anger pulsing from the clustering anxiety. “I noticed when it was your woman who was held by a Hyland, we went in all guns blazing, but we can’t do the same for Hilary.” Catching my breath, I fought to hold it together. “And she’s one of us, too. Hilary worked for me for years.”
“And been polishing your cock for the last few months.” Connor’s tone was wry.
“That’s beside the point,” I retorted, but it was precisely the point.
Hilary and I had been on the brink of a burgeoning relationship. The sex had been magnificent, and I really liked her. That was what really hurt—Hyland hadn’t just taken a member of my payroll or my latest squeeze. He’d taken both, which was the point. He wanted to hit me where it smarted the most. He wanted to make me suffer, and grimly, I acknowledged it was working. I’d rarely felt as low as I had the last few days.
“You’ll still get her back,” Dalton assured me in his well-practiced tone. “We just have to be smarter than Sean Hyland. We need to find another way of bringing him down. One that doesn’t involve a shootout in another London suburb.”
Silence swirled around
my office as his verdict hung in the air between us. Deep down, I knew he was right, and the logical part of my brain—the facet that had managed The Syndicate for decades—agreed, but my instincts were with Connor. They wanted to race over to the church and prise her from Hyland’s twisted grasp. I dreaded to think what he’d done to her, but if I knew anything about that family, I was sure it was nothing good. Hyland men weren’t capable of anything but greed and self-service. For the thousandth time today, panic clawed at my insides.
Hilary. My head fell, her name resonating around my head. I’m so sorry, Hilary. You’re not forgotten. Wherever you are, whatever he’s doing to you, I’m going to get you back and make him pay.
“Do we know where he’s planning to take her after this façade?” I heard the strain in my voice, the way it trembled as I fought to contain my rising emotion.
“He’s booked a couple of nights at The Ritz.”
Lifting my chin at Connor’s response, my jaw clenched. The Ritz? That was so fucking Hyland. They were all show and no substance. “And then?”
“We’re working on it,” Dalton assured me. “I agree with where your thoughts are going. Taking her from his private address will be far less traumatic than busting in during a church service.”
“I never said that,” I snapped at Dalton, yet again. Registering the flicker of hurt in his eyes, I turned away. I didn’t know why I was being so hard on him. The Syndicate had acted to protect its members with dull regularity. It wasn’t as if his woman, Delilah, was the first we’d rushed in to protect, but I couldn’t stop drawing the comparison, couldn’t vanquish the nagging feeling Delilah had been worth putting our necks on the line for, but Hilary wasn’t. This wasn’t Dalton’s fault—I knew it wasn’t—but I couldn’t suppress the resentment bubbling below the surface. “I just want to be armed with all the facts.”
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