Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 86360 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86360 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
I try not to move. I’m lying on a bed, my eyes unfocused. I don’t want the people who’ve taken me to know I’ve woken.
I can’t tell where I am, or who I’m with. The voices aren’t familiar, nor are the dimly lit surroundings. I try to assess my situation. My head aches. I was struck somewhere. By the feel of my chest, I’ve broken ribs, and there’s something wet and crusty on my lips. I was beaten as well.
Nolan.
With effort, I keep myself from knifing up and demanding answers, calling attention to myself. We’d just gotten Nolan, just brought him to Sebastian, when we were fucking ambushed. Cormac said it was the Martins, but I didn’t get a good look before they assaulted me.
Did Cormac get away? Thank Christ Nolan was with Sebastian.
Is Caitlin safe?
“Thought he could tell us where to look for the rest if we brought him here,” one says.
“You feckin’ eejit,” a hoarse, raspy voice says, in a thick brogue. “You took the feckin’ heir to the throne. You’ve got no brains in that head of yers, do ya? Could’ve taken any of the lot, but this feckin’ heir’s the future Chief.”
“Fuckin’ shut it,” the other snaps. “He’s as guilty as the rest.”
“Could’ve gotten retaliation without a fucking war,” the raspy voice continues. There are several distinct voices, several men in the shadows of this room. I can’t quite tell how many are here.
So someone took me without permission. That bodes well for me. Maybe they won’t kill me.
Mention of retaliation confirms they’re Martins. They know of the men we killed at St. Albert’s, and now they’ve come for vengeance.
They argue among themselves, before they finally realize I’ve come to.
“Take off his gag,” the raspy voice says. He’s the leader, it seems.
The light casts across their features. This one’s dirty, his hair matted, and he’s missing a tooth in the front. My stomach churns. My father’s told me they’re a manky lot, but I’ve not had much interaction myself. They’re underhanded and conniving, he says. Unprincipled. They’re known for seeking easy money and spending it as quickly as they can earn it.
We may be violent ourselves, but I shudder to think of Caitlin among the likes of these.
Someone unfastens my gag. I move my tongue around my mouth. No missing teeth. The few broken bones I have won’t keep me from fighting.
“State yer name,” the leader says. He knows who I am. He’s already chided them for taking me.
“Keenan McCarthy, Captain of the McCarthy Clan” I say, my voice laced with anger. I want them to know exactly who I am. “And you’re…” I want to hear them say it. I don’t want them to know I know who they are.
“None of your damn business,” he snaps, but he looks nervously over his shoulder. Where are we? The blanket beside the bed where I’m sitting is familiar, but I can’t place it. Why would a place they take me to look familiar? It doesn’t make any sense at all. I look about the place, and realize the light is coming from above us, natural light filtering in through small glass windows. The room is so small, I couldn’t stand up straight if I tried, but would smack my head. It’s too dark to see much else, the only light cast from an oil-burning lamp on a table.
“Why’ve you taken me here?” I ask. “Where are we?”
But they don’t answer. One of them, a large, burly man with a shaved head and jaw, pulls out his cell phone. He speaks hurriedly into it. “They took the feckin’ Captain.” He looks over his shoulder at me. “Bloody hell.”
He continues to talk, and my mind is churning. They didn’t mean to take me, and I have to use that to my advantage. These are the lackeys in the group, not the ones with power. Taking me, or any attack at all, was likely retaliation for the weekend, for the men they lost that we questioned. We’re at war with the Martins, and there’s only one way we can end what’s to be inevitable bloodshed: my marriage to Caitlin. But hell, if they’ve already seen her, she isn’t safe. She’s in mortal fucking danger.
He slides his phone back into his pocket and looks to me. I need to decipher two things in this conversation: where I am, and if they know of Caitlin.
It’s so dim in here, it’s hard for me to get my bearings. I can talk to them, though, maybe even set them up.
“Do you know what it means when you kidnap the Captain?” I ask, my mind racing to come up with something that would scare them. They look at each other. My mark was right.
One swallows. “We were told to take you,” he says, the fucking idiot, as if I don’t have brains in my head.