Chained Hands (Chained Hearts Duet Book 1)

by T. L Smith

“Fuck off, this isn’t your place anymore.”

  “Just let me get my things, Dillan. Not everything in here is yours.”

  He chuckles and it sounds purely sadistic. “Of course, it is. Even you are mine. Bitch.”

  Fuck! I take a deep breath to hold back my anger. I want so badly to punch him in the dick. Instead, I stand taller and look over his shoulder before I push past him and through the door. He huffs as I do. Dillan has never hit me, and I wouldn’t have thought he would ever do such a thing, but the man I have seen come to the surface this last week isn’t someone I know too well anymore.

  “Run along, bitch.” He faces me, and I look to see Roberto and his friend just standing at the door, not paying us any attention.

  I open my mouth to say something but walk past him and straight up the stairs instead. My hands slide along the wooden rails that I have clung to many times when I needed to, especially through the hard times, but this time they are pulling me up toward my old bedroom and to where my personal items are located. I head straight for the closet, grabbing the first bag I see and start packing it full of my clothes along with other things I know I will need. Then I head into the bathroom where my collection of jewelry is in a drawer and stuff all of that in too. I try searching for my phone but come up empty-handed.

  “Give me the ring.” I look down to the ring on my finger, the one he asked me to marry him with, and pull it off my finger without any further thought. My skin is imprinted from years of wearing it, and if this was a different situation, I might just cry.

  “Take it.” I go to hand it to him, but he pulls me by my wrist toward him.

  Dillan’s breath smells of liquor when he speaks, “I’ll take you anytime I want, remember that.”

  I push off his chest, but his fingers wrap tighter around my wrist.

  “Let go of my wrist, Dillan.” He does, pushing me back when he drops it.

  “He’s going to kill you,” he whispers. “It’s what he does. Keir’s evil.” He sneers at me.

  “Who is he?” I ask, hoping he’ll tell me.

  Keir is the reason I’m in this predicament, after all.

  “He’s the one they run from,” he whispers. “If we had a real-life bogeyman, he would be it. I guess that’s what happens when you take over your family business that’s known for being shady cunts. Fucking mafia.” He shakes his head.

  What the fuck?

  I grab my bag from the floor where I dropped it.

  “You made a deal with the mafia?” I ask incredulously, trying to understand his stupidity. “How dumb are you exactly?” I shake my head and go back into our closet where an old box full of family jewels sits on the top shelf. When I reach for it, Dillan snatches it away from my hands. “Give it back.”

  “Nope. I’m going to sell them so I can pay my debt.”

  “You have the apartment and everything in it. Now, give me my grandparents’ things, Dillan.”

  He shakes his head with pride, like a naughty kid who knows they have won.

  I jump at him, trying to reach for the box, but he chuckles at my attempt. So I jump again, but this time he knocks me in the mouth, backhanding me to the floor. I can taste the metallic tang of my blood from my split lip.

  “Give. It. Back!” I scream at him, getting to my feet quickly, finally ready to cause him some serious damage between the legs.

  “No,” he screams back at me, looking like a feral dog as spittle flies from his mouth.

  That’s when I feel the presence of someone behind us, and we both turn to see Roberto standing there.

  He looks from me to my lip, then to Dillan. “Give it to her, now,” he says in a casual tone.

  “You can’t come in here telling me what the fuck to give my wife,” Dillan barks.

  Roberto doesn’t seem fazed by his words and pulls out a gun from his back pocket and places it near his leg—not raising it—just to let him know he has it and will use it if need be. “Now.” I can hear in his tone that it’s his last warning—something he probably doesn’t give a lot of.

  Dillan throws the box at me, and I grab it eagerly, then pick up my bag on the way to the door.

  “Don’t come back, Sailor.”

  I turn around to look at him. “I wouldn’t dare.” I smile, feeling the split in my lip stinging as I do, and Roberto motions for me to walk past him. I glance down at the gun and am careful not to touch it as I slide out of the bedroom. When I get downstairs, the other guy is waiting at the front door with a phone to his ear. He hangs up when I get there and stands taller. His hair is the same honey brown as Keir’s, even his eyes are the same, but he holds a different feel to him, as if, dare I say it, softer. Which is absurd considering all these men are more than likely murders.

  “I’m Sailor,” I tell him, offering him my free hand as I juggle my things in the other. He looks at it as if he can’t believe I just did that and shakes his head.

  “I know who you are,” he says in a rough voice.

  Quickly, I pull my hand back to my side and adjust my belongings as I feel them slipping.

  “Can I ask what your name is?” No one seems willing to give me their names. It’s kind of weird. I only know Roberto’s because he has no shame.

  “You can ask,” he responds.

  “But I’m guessing you won’t tell me?” I question him, and we both turn when we hear Roberto walking back down the stairs.

  “It’s Joey. He’s the boss’s brother.” Roberto smiles at Joey then looks at me. “Is that all you want? We were told to assist you in getting whatever you want from here before leaving.” He peers into the television room. “I can carry that.” He nods to the television in question.

  I remember the day we bought it, after our second miscarriage.

  He wanted to get out, I did not. But, of course, I went with him. Even when I should have stayed in bed. He picked it out, brought it home, then proceeded to sit in front of it all weekend like I didn’t matter to him at all.

  There were so many signs.

  So many obvious signals things were not right.

  What was wrong with me?

  Or better yet, what is wrong with me?

  “I don’t want anything else.” I pull my bags in tighter and walk out the door.

  “He has your phone. Did you know that?” Dillan’s voice rings through the air, and I spin back to him. “I saw you looking for it. It’s not here. He took it.”

  I look to Roberto for confirmation, but he doesn’t answer.

  “I know,” I reply. Dillan doesn’t need to know I don’t have it.

  Dillan smirks and shakes his head before he takes a step closer to us. Lifting his hand, he grabs the edge of the door and slams it shut in my face.

  Asshole.

  Chapter Nine

  Keir

  She’s sleeping when I get back to my room. I should have put her in another room. It would have been the wise thing to do. I don’t want to have her smell and her things taking over mine, which they are already doing. All the lights are on, and she has changed out of that dress she had on earlier.

  Now she sleeps in a pair of pajamas with dogs all over them.

  Roberto walks in, looks to where she is sleeping, then to me. “Joey doesn’t like her,” is all he says.

  I know what that means, and what others think it means is the exact opposite.

  Joey likes her.

  I know Joey well.

  Joey likes a lot of things, so it’s no surprise.

  “Dillan is at the front door.” Roberto looks at her. “Should I wake her?” he asks, confirming with me before he does.

  “No, she would be of no use.” I walk out and he follows.

  Why that dickhead keeps coming here is beyond me. You’d think he would use his brains after the first time and listen. Out front, I find him pacing on the pavement—back and forth, back and forth—clearly drunk.

  Dillan stops when he sees me and places his hands in front of him as he starts to talk, “You can’
t have her. I want her back.”

  I say nothing in return, as there’s nothing left to say. We made a deal, and that deal is done. I turn to walk back into the house when his words stop me.

  “I’ll take her. She isn’t yours, you scum. I know what you do. I know who you are. Once she knows, she’ll run too.”

  When I face him again, I see pure madness written all over his features.

  It takes three seconds—I know because I count down.

  One to pull it from my trousers.

  Two to raise it.

  Three for the bullet to hit his leg.

  He goes down like the piece of shit he is, his screams piercing the night sky.

  “Oh, my god!” Sailor stands at the door directly behind me, with a mixture of disbelief and horror written all over her face. “You …” She goes to make a move toward him, but I catch her by her hip, holding her back as Dillan screams behind us. “How could you? Let me go!” Her fingernails dig into my arms, and I can feel her drawing blood with her strong grip.

  Roberto steps over to assist, but I shake my head at him. I place the gun in my back pocket before I move her so I’m holding her with both hands. “Calm the fuck down.”

  Sailor’s face goes bright red, but she shuts up and looks directly at me, her eyes wide as they lock on mine, her fire simmering within them.

  “You shot my husband, and now you’re telling me to be calm?”

  “Would you like me to shoot you too, to make it even?”

  Her body locks up, and I let her go. She almost drops to the ground but catches herself.

  “Now, get back inside.”

  She glances at her husband, and before I can stop her, she’s kneeling in front of him and touching his face. He instantly stops crying at her touch before she opens her mouth and speaks, “You are a fool. You did this. Remember that.” She pulls away from him and stands, seemingly unaffected as she walks away leaving him to bleed. His blood is soaking into my concrete, and it’s making me rage. Such a mess for this worthless piece of shit.

  “Sailor,” he cries out for her.

  But she ignores him.

  When she reaches me, she gives me a look that could rock the skies, then whips her head around and goes back inside like she owns the place.

  “She’s going to be so much fun,” Roberto says, smiling.

  “Leave now, because the next bullet will enter your fucking skull,” I tell Dillan before I turn and head back inside, not waiting to see if he does as he’s told.

  If he had any brains, he would hustle.

  “You’re the mafia, aren’t you?” Her words stop me in my tracks. She is curled up on the couch, her legs tucked under her ass as she sits there waiting for me in the dark. I switch on the light, and she doesn’t even move. The bottom of her pajamas are covered in blood, but she doesn’t seem to care. When I don’t answer, she stands and gets right in my face. “Fuck you too. You’re just another asshole who thinks he can control me. I’m here for a week, then I am fucking gone.” She huffs. “P.S., give me my fucking phone. I need to work.”

  I snap my teeth at her, and she jumps backward. Then I let a lazy smile spread across my face and saunter to the bathroom to take a shower.

  No one makes demands of me.

  No matter who they are.

  Chapter Ten

  Sailor

  I ended up passing out on his chair. He came back from the shower and climbed into bed, not speaking to me again. But when I woke, I was back in his bed, and I don’t understand why.

  He isn’t next to me when I rise, and I’m thankful as I go to my bag and grab clean clothes before I shower. When I enter the bathroom, I see him standing at the sink brushing his teeth. He stares at me through the mirror.

  He’s good at not speaking—just staring.

  I’ve never met anyone like him.

  And I’m thankful for that, I guess.

  Believe me, I have met some real shady-ass people in my life.

  Turning my back to him, I start the shower and place my things down before I begin undressing. I’m not someone who’s insecure about my body. My parents taught me at a young age that beauty is what you perceive it to be, so if you have a thought going around in your brain that you need to change something, you will focus on it and focus on it until you hate it.

  I hated my body when I couldn’t carry a child.

  But slowly, I’m starting to love her again.

  Even after I blamed her, caused her pain, she is still me and I am still her. And I only have this one body, so I best be good to her.

  The steam starts to fill the room, and I feel his eyes on my back, but I don’t bother to confirm it as I get in and wash myself, while keeping myself turned away from him. When I’m done, I reach for the towel and find it not there. Instead, I find Keir holding it out to me.

  “Thank you.” I take it, but he doesn’t let it go. “Keir.” I say his name for the first time, and he eyes me with suspicion before he releases the towel so I can wrap it around my body.

  “I’ve never wanted to fuck one of my captives before.”

  His words shock me so much that I freeze on the spot.

  I’m not sure if he’s waiting for me to speak, but when he realizes I won’t, he leaves me to get changed.

  And I swear I saw him smirk just before he turned to go.

  My phone is on the bed. That’s my first thought when I finally manage to get out of the bathroom. I’m fully dressed and took my time about it. I even sat on the toilet wondering what I’m going to say to him.

  I mean, I saw him shoot my husband without so much as a blink of his eye.

  This man is clearly not someone I want to piss off.

  Keir is the man you stay away from, far away from.

  So why when I am near him do I think of things I shouldn’t be?

  Sex.

  When was the last time I had sex, though?

  Two months ago? Probably longer.

  I honestly can’t remember what it’s like to be touched with passion. Whenever Dillan and I fucked, it was quick and done. We had no lust, nothing left anymore. Maybe he did me a favor by selling me to Keir. I never would have been strong enough to leave him.

  Reaching for my phone, I call my lawyer and ask her to draw up divorce papers stating I want nothing from Dillan but what I have already taken. I sit back on the bed and start to go through my phone and all the messages and emails I’ve missed. I prided myself on being reachable and always on time. So, when I check my messages from my clients and see how worried for my safety they’ve been, I figure they have a right to be. Even when I was in the hospital, I wrote back. It’s just who I am by nature.

  Staying on the bed for a few hours doing as much as I can to catch up without a computer, I finally raise my head to stretch my neck, and that’s when I see Roberto standing at the door.

  “You missed breakfast,” he says, glancing around.

  “I was working.”

  “You don’t need to work.”

  I huff at his words. “Oh, yes I do. This is my only income, and I would be stupid to ruin it.” I shake my phone to show him and immediately go back to it.

  “It’s lunch, you need to eat something.” He leaves without another word, but I go back to work instead. At one point, I get up and walk around the room just to move my legs, then I open a book a client has asked me to read for her. Before I know it, I’m halfway done, the sun has set, and I haven’t left the room.

  My stomach growls madly at the thought of food.

  “Where the fuck have you been?” The door swings open to reveal Keir standing there, dressed immaculately in a black suit with a gun on each hip.

  He looks good.

  Like, really good.

  I thought he looked okay before, I’m not blind after all, but maybe it’s the romance book I’m reading, or maybe it’s the promise of pain in his eyes. So I smile at his words.

  His expression goes sour, and he shakes his head. “Clearly, you can
’t be in charge of feeding yourself. Get up and get dressed. You’re coming with us.” He strides out the door, leaving no room for argument.

  Dressed?

  I look down at what I’m wearing. I am dressed. Sticking my head out the door, I find the boy there.

  “Hey, umm …” I glance down the hallway. “Do you have any idea of what I should wear?”

  “Something nice, Miss,” is all he gives me.

  Damn, okay. Rifling through my clothes, I pull out a black leather skirt and pair it with some Dr. Martens and a baggy shirt, which I tie up at the back to show my midriff, then run my fingers through my messy hair before I add some oil to control the frizz. I slide my phone into my bra and head to the front door. When I get there, he’s waiting.

  Keir turns to face me, his eyes giving me the once over before they latch on to mine. “Are you going to a club?” he asks.

  I thought I looked cute. I saw the outfit on Pinterest and had to try it.

  “You didn’t say where …” I start, looking back over my shoulder. “I can change if wherever we’re going requires something flashier.” When I turn back to him, he’s already walking to his car, so I follow behind and ask, “Am I riding with you?”

  “Get in,” is his gruff response.

  Huffing, I do as he says and slide in next to him. I see his eyes latch on to my bare thigh before he looks away as the car starts to move.

  “Where are we going?” I ask, my hands folding on my lap.

  He doesn’t answer.

  “Well, I had a great day today. Caught up on work, read a book about a girl who got kidnapped … oh, hey, it’s like me.” I giggle and see him puzzled at my demeanor. “Do you read?”

  “No.”

  At least he answered that one—score one for me!

  “I’m hungry, are we eating?”

  “Of course, we are.” His words are snapped and small.

  “Okay, great,” I say cheerfully.

  “Do you want to suck my cock to tide you over?”

  My cheer dies at his words and by the look on his face, I can see he’s serious.