by L A Cotton
Seconds ticked by or it could have been hours, and then the door opened again. A small flashlight beam danced around the room landing on my face, and I heard her gasp. "Oh, my God." Cara stepped into the room and closed the door behind her. My eyes locked on the sight of her and I racked my brain for some sign this was real and not some sick fantasy my pain-ridden body had dreamed up to ease some of the hurt.
I got my answer when she reached out and palmed my cheek. "What have they done to you?"
Cara dropped down in front of me placing the flashlight next to her. It cast a dim shadow around the room, and I could just make out her face, drinking in her soft features.
"Tell me what to do." Her voice cracked.
"Water." I flicked my head to the bottle of water on one of the empty racking shelves.
She retrieved the bottle and opened the cap holding it up for me, but I snatched it away from her. My hands were still bound, but I wasn't fucking incapable of drinking some water.
"Shit, tell me what to do, Braiden." She applied enough pressure to my cheek to force me to look at her. Our eyes connected, and for a second, I let myself drown in her. This blond whirlwind who had barreled her way into my cold heart. But the moment passed and I hissed, "I think you've already done enough."
She reared back onto her ankles, confusion written all over her face. "Wha- what? You think I ... You really think it was m-"
"Save it." I cut her dead. "I have bigger things on my mind right now." My voice was stilted, thick with pain.
"But, but, Braiden, it wasn't me-" Her voice cracked and I saw the shimmer of water in her eyes.
Silence enveloped us and I drew her in with my gaze until she shuffled closer. My head dropped forward and I pressed my bloody forehead to hers letting myself find a sliver of comfort in her presence. Cara responded, sighing softly as if she thought I was having second thoughts about her betrayal.
"You shouldn't be here, Cara." I pulled back a fraction. She needed to understand what I was about to say to her. "Don't come back. We're done. We. Are. Done." I tipped my head back breaking our connection. It was too much for her to be in here, looking at me as if she wanted to fix me.
Fix us.
It was all lies. For all I knew, Jason had probably sent her in here to try to trick the truth out of me.
I didn’t watch as Cara left the room, taking the flashlight with her. We were done, and pretty soon, I was sure I’d be done too. I didn’t have what O’Connor wanted, and as soon as he realized that, I was dead.
“Up,” a gruff voice said from the shadows. I must have dozed off because one minute, Cara had been here, and the next, two guys appeared in the doorway. One flicked a switch plunging the room into an eerie glow and I almost breathed a sigh of relief when I realized neither were Jason. At least, these two might stick to O’Connor’s orders and go easy on me. I tried to push off the chair, but fatigue and dehydration made it difficult.
“Grab him, Oz.” One guy wrestled me out of the chair yanking my bound arms while the other stood in front of me.
“Boss wants to know if you’re ready to talk yet?”
“Like I said to your friend, I don’t know anything. I met Jack Doy-”
Crack. His fist collided with my cheek, and I cursed into the air while the other guy tightened his grip on me. “This all goes away if you just cooperate, Donohue.”
Squeezing my eye shut, I waited for any signs that he’d done more than just bruise my skin. It stung like a bitch, but my eye seemed fine. With a slight shake of my head, I met his stare and said slowly, “I don’t know shit.”
“Wrong answer.” He balled his fist up and sent it flying into my stomach. The other guy held me while my body lurched as it protested. My cheek burned, and my insides felt like Jell-O, but I had to wait it out.
“O’Connor, I want to talk to O’Connor,” my voice croaked.
“Not happening, Donohue. Not until you give us something.”
It would have been so easy to lie—to tell them what they wanted to hear. But all I knew was what they already knew; Doyle and his associates were looking to move against O’Connor. I could name the guys I’d met at The Cave, sure, but O’Connor was more clued up than Doyle gave him credit for. He wanted the finer details—dates, times, that kind of thing. All stuff I knew nothing about. Because they didn’t trust you with it.
The guy continued his routine. He asked me more questions, I gave him my answers, and he dished out more punishment. Eventually, after smearing his bloodied knuckles over his t-shirt, they left.
I drifted in and out of sleep. At some point, I’d slipped off the chair and crumpled into a broken heap, but I had managed to drag my body over to the wall like a wounded animal seeking shelter. No longer able to tell what hurt and what didn’t, I reveled in the silence. Maybe I was going mad. Maybe this was all part of O’Connor’s routine to break someone—get them to talk—but I was past caring. I couldn’t even remember why I’d thought it was a good idea to comply instead of trying to fight my way out. Maybe I was crazy.
When the door opened again, my weeping wounds had dried to a sticky mess. My shirt stuck to my body with sweat, and my eye was almost swelled shut. I expected to see Jason again. Or even O’Connor. Maybe they were coming to finish the job. Part of me hoped it was, and when I looked up, I didn’t expect to find a beautiful woman with Cara’s smile standing over me illuminated by an amber glow, like a fucking golden angel.
“Can you move?”
A bitter laugh bubbled up in me and I said, “Lady, do I look like I can move?”
“Let me help you to the chair.” She leaned down and hooked her arm underneath one of my arms and around my back. She was surprisingly strong, and with her help, I managed to get to my feet and shuffle back over to the chair. My whole body screamed with pain. I needed food and water and a hot fucking shower and a bucket full of Advil, but I doubted she was the fairy godmother coming to grant any of my wishes.
I watched her through my good eye as she dragged another chair to the middle of the room and sat down in front of me. Cara’s mother was every bit a guy’s wet dream. The skintight pantsuit that covered her lean body put her closer to thirty than the mid-forties she probably had to be. And where Cara kept her hair short, she wore it longer, hints of blond fading into caramel and auburn waves that fell over her shoulders.
“I’m Annie O’Connor.”
“Figured as much.” The words came out hoarse, and I coughed trying to clear my throat.
“Here.” Annie held out a bottle of water, but my wrists were asleep from being restrained for hours and hours, and I couldn’t get a good enough grip to take the bottle. Annie shuffled forward on her chair and unscrewed the cap, tipping the bottle to my greedy lips. How fucking embarrassing. The mother of the girl that had shredded my heart into a million pieces, wife to the man who wanted me dead, was feeding me water.
After I had chugged down as much liquid as my stomach could stand, I pulled away and rubbed my wet chin against my shoulder. “Thanks, I guess.”
“Let me tend to your wounds?”
She was asking my permission. Was she for real? Didn’t she realize it was thanks to her husband that I was here in the first place? Hell, thanks to him, my life was just one big fucking mess.
“Listen, lady, whatever you came for, it won’t work. I have nothing to give up. Your husband thinks I know the answers to the fucking universe and I don’t. Right now, I kind of wish I did. But I got nothing.”
Annie O’Connor narrowed her eyes slightly as if searching my face for a glimpse of something. Something about the way she carried herself told me she wasn’t her husband’s pawn. The sight of me didn’t disturb her. There was no hint of disgust on her perfectly made up face. In fact, she didn’t even flinch when she first laid eyes on me. No, this wasn’t a woman here to do her husband’s bidding.
So what the fuck did she want?
“Interesting,” she said quietly as if she was talking to herself. “Well, if you
won’t let me help you, I guess I’ll excuse myself. I’m truly sorry things ended this way, Braiden. I really am.”
What the hell?
She left the bottle of water in arm’s reach and dragged the chair back to its place at the side of the racks. I watched her as she switched off the light and disappeared into the darkness all the while wondering what the fuck had just happened.
Chapter Nineteen
Cara
A soft knock on the door startled me, and I wiped away the moisture from my eyes with the sleeve of my old high school track hoodie. “Who is it?” I called out. I’d spent all day holed up in my room unable to face anyone.
“Baby, it’s me, Mom. Open up, I have hot cocoa.”
Shit. I dashed into the small bathroom adjoining my room, flicked the switch, and checked my appearance. If she saw my tear-stained face, she wouldn’t leave until she had answers. Drawing in a long breath, I ran the faucet and splashed my face with cold water. After drying off with a towel, I was satisfied I looked more tired than heartbroken and went to the door.
“Hi, Mom.” I forced a smile, opening the door fully to let her in. She brushed past me and I closed the door before going to turn on the lamp.
“We haven’t done this in so long, I thought it would be fun, but you look so tired, baby. Should I go?”
“No, no, stay. I’m just wiped. This class is kicking my ass, and I think I still have car-lag, if that’s possible.” I patted the bed for her to sit down. Mom placed the tray of hot cocoa and cookies down on the nightstand and joined me.
“I have to ask, is everything okay with Jason? Things seemed a little tense between you guys at dinner.”
I helped myself to a cookie in hopes that it might mask the tremor in my voice. “He’s … shit, Mom, you know how he can be. Overprotective and too overbearing. He’s worse than Dad is. I’m at college. College, Mom. I want some freedom to live my life. Is that too much to ask?”
Mom took my hand in hers and laid it on her lap. “Baby, of course, it isn’t, but you knew when you moved to Forest Grove that Jason was the compromise. Your father wouldn’t trust your life to anyone else. He’s a good boy, Cara. He just wants what’s best for you. We all do.”
Oh, really. I glared at my mother. She would mistake the anger in my eyes for contempt at being treated like a child. If only she knew. But if I told her the truth about Jason, she would go straight to my father and he would either dismiss it as a misunderstanding or he would haul Jason straight into his office and demand answers. And that would only lead to Jason revealing the full truth about Braiden and me.
It was such a mess; I didn’t know what to do for the best. So instead, I squeezed Mom’s hand and said, “I know. It’s just a little much sometimes, you know. I thought when I moved to college, life would be … easier somehow, I guess.”
“But having Jason there makes it complicated?”
“Not complicated. Just, I don’t know, he’s a constant reminder of home.” And I never want to see him again.
Mom’s eyes softened, but her smile was anything but happy. “Cara, was life really that bad here? I know your father can be difficult, but he loves you. More than anything.”
Braiden’s bloodied face flashed in my mind, and I choked down the urge to gag. When I’d found him in the annex, I hadn’t expected to find him in that state. I hadn’t really known what to expect—everything was so out of control, and now, Mom was here wanting to talk like everything was normal. Like the guy I was prepared to risk it all for wasn’t locked in that room, hurting and alone.
“What is it, baby?”
I blinked at her, blocking out the memory. “What? Oh, nothing. Just that pesky car-lag I was telling you about.” I replaced the uneaten cookie with the mug of cocoa and sipped at the steaming liquid.
“You know, I came up here last night to check on you, but you didn’t answer.”
“I was showering.” The lie rolled off my tongue easily, but Mom hesitated, clearly unsatisfied with my answer. Her eyes glanced over to the window, and she sighed. “Cara, if something is going on, you can tell me. You do know that, right?”
I spotted my tattered sneakers sitting to the side of the window and prayed she hadn’t spotted them. “Going on, with what?” I blinked refocusing on her face. “I already told you I’m just tired.”
“So stubborn,” she murmured under her breath. “Just like your father.”
“I am nothing like my father,” I spat out a little too hastily, immediately regretting the anger in my voice.
“I’ll leave you alone, baby. Try and get some sleep.” She rose from the bed and moved to the door. With her hand on the handle, she glanced back at the last second. “You know, Cara, things always have a way of working themselves out. Whatever it is, it’ll seem better with time.”
I gulped back the tears threatening to burst out at any second. How could she possibly know that? For all I knew, Braiden could be dead by morning. And I would have lost not only the guy I was pretty sure I was in love with, but my family too. Because if anything happened to him, I would never be able to forgive my father.
Ever.
Morning didn’t bring me any reassurances. I moved on autopilot, only going through the motions. Braiden had sent me away, refusing to let me help him and unwilling to hear my pleas. And he was still locked in there, beaten and bloody, and what was I doing?
I was eating breakfast with my family pretending like everything was fine.
I didn’t deserve him. I should have stood my ground and demanded that my father release the man I’d fallen in love with. Beg for his life. Sacrifice my own happiness for his freedom—because once my father did discover the truth, I would never be allowed out of his sight again. The fact that I was legally an adult meant nothing. I was Frankie O’Connor’s only daughter, and I would be kept prisoner under a lock and key until my father felt it safe—and appropriate—for me to come out.
“Pass me the orange juice please, Cara.” My father forced a smile, and I wondered if Mom had told him about my fragile state. Being the dutiful daughter, I handed him the jug of fresh juice and continued picking at my breakfast.
“Is something wrong with your pancakes?” Jason’s voice caught me off guard. I had foolishly hoped he would give me some space after dinner last night, but from the smug look on his face, he planned on the total opposite. He might as well have been wearing a massive sign that said ‘I beat the shit out of your boyfriend.’ Except Braiden wasn’t my boyfriend … he wasn’t my anything anymore. He didn’t want anything to do with me.
And who could blame him.
Look what my family had done to him. Yes, he might have hurt some kid when he was in college. Yes, he might have been involved with a lot of bad things back then. But did that really warrant a death sentence?
My downcast eyes flickered over to where my father sat. Frankie O’Connor—one of the most influential, respected, and feared men in all of Seattle—wanted Braiden dead. But why? What had he done that was so awful it justified taking his life?
A shiver worked its way through my body. I had to find a way to help Braiden.
There had to be a way.
Because I wasn’t sure I’d survive if he didn’t.
After breakfast, I took off for a jog around the estate again. Mom insisted on joining me, and although I couldn’t stand to be under her surveillance, I didn’t argue. It was a better alternative to Jason.
“Cara, slow down. I’m not as young and fit as my twenty-year-old daughter.” She laughed breathlessly, and I slowed my pace to a leisurely jog. “What’s the hurry? If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were running from something.”
I stopped and bent forward onto my knees, drawing in long breaths. Once my heart rate had returned to normal, I lifted my head and met my mom’s concerned eyes. “What, Mom?” I huffed out fed up with feeling like a puzzle she wanted to solve.
“Cara, you sound so broken. What is it, baby?”
“Mom, reall
y?!” I threw up my hands and started pacing. She knew. I’d known it since I arrived. Maybe she didn’t know exactly what had gone down, but she knew it concerned Jason, Braiden, and me. I had no doubt she knew Braiden was locked up in the annex. Mom made it her business to know. “I know you know something, so you might as well just spit it out.”
“Sweetie, come here.” She extended her hands and coaxed me into her arms. I fell against her chest and sobbed into her velour zip-up hoodie. “Shh, there, everything will be okay, baby. Shh.”
Her words did little to appease the pain slicing through my chest. How could anything be okay given the circumstances?
“Cara.” Her voice softened, and she held me at arm’s length, brushing my damp hair out of my face, the way she had when I was a child. “It’s him, isn’t it? Braiden Donohue. Something’s happened?”
I nodded, unable to talk through the barrage of emotions overwhelming me.
“Oh, baby. My sweet baby.” She cradled me against her chest again, whispering soothing sentiments into my ear, and I let myself soak up her comfort. So much had happened in such a short span of time; I didn’t even know who I was anymore. It was like ever since Braiden walked into Lincoln Park Stadium, my life—and everything I valued—was tipped on its head. I’d never met someone who irritated me the way he did, pushed me and tested me, or made me want to break free from the responsibilities and expectations of my family name. But he did. We were a modern day Romeo and Juliet—star-crossed lovers, destined to never experience a life together.
“They’re hurting him. He’s in there all alone, hurting, because of his name. Because of our name.” A fresh wave of pain washed over me, and I buried my head further into Mom.
“Cara, this is not your fault. It’s bigger than both of you; you just got caught up in the middle of it.” She untangled me from her again and tilted my chin up to force me to look at her. “You’re in love with him, aren’t you?”