Broken Dolls: An Urban Fantasy (The Telepathic Clans Saga Book 3)

by BR Kingsolver

  “I’m going to follow him and see how many men join his escort when he goes outside,” Rebecca’s voice close behind me made me jump. “I’ll meet you at the restaurant.” She walked away in the direction O’Driscoll had gone.

  ~~~

  Morrighan and I were eating our salads when Rebecca entered the restaurant and threaded her way between the tables to us. I’m not into women sexually, but as I watched her, I was reminded of the old saying that women dress for women. She was dressed similarly to how I normally dress when I’m working, but the slight difference was eye catching.

  She managed to make a boat-neck long-sleeve t-shirt, boot-cut blue jeans, black jacket and high-heeled boots a fashion statement. Maybe it was the way she moved, like a dancer or a cat, almost sensual, though the look on her face was all business. She slid into the third chair at our table and pushed her hair back from her face.

  “He’s got a protection team to rival a Clan Lord,” she said, reaching for the glass of water waiting for her. “Two bodyguards at all times inside the building, and two who pick him up the minute he walks outside. A limo with a driver and a guy riding shotgun, and another car with four Protectors following it. That’s ten, all telepaths, of course, plus whatever Gifts he has. An ambush to take him on the move would require a full assault team.”

  The waiter appeared, and Rebecca picked up her menu, scanned it quickly and ordered.

  I laughed. “Do you always drink on duty?”

  “Hell, yes,” she answered. “Didn’t they teach you how to neutralize alcohol? Goddamn puritanical Catholic country. I’ll have to talk to Peter about their training methods.” The twinkle in her eye and her grin made me laugh again.

  The waiter brought her a pint and a shot. She knocked down the shot and turned to me.

  “So what’s going on with you and O’Driscoll?” she asked, picking up her beer and taking a sip.

  “We’re having dinner this evening. He’s picking me up at Morrighan’s.”

  “Did he say where you’re going?”

  “No, he didn’t.”

  “You need to call him and ask. Tell him you aren’t sure what to wear.”

  “Okay,” I said, “do I want him to know my mobile number?”

  She considered. “Good point. Call him from Morrighan’s on the land line.”

  “I figured I’d just dress to seduce.”

  “Maybe, maybe not,” she said. “If the place is really fancy, you might want to wear something nicer. In any case, I need to make reservations to cover you.”

  I’m so used to working alone that I hadn’t considered that.

  “So you’ll be in the restaurant watching us?”

  “Damn straight. Donny and I will be there, and Peter’s team will blanket his security outside.” She grinned. “You’re not used to being a celebrity with an entourage, are you?” She shot a look at Morrighan, and they both laughed.

  I told them about my conversation with O’Driscoll. Both leaned back in their chairs, crossed their arms, and looked thoughtful.

  “Are you two related?” I asked.

  They looked at each other, realized that they’d assumed the exact same pose, and laughed again. Then Rebecca’s smile died. Watching her, Morrighan’s smile also slipped from her face.

  There was an uncomfortable moment, then Morrighan leaned forward and said, “Rebecca’s a wilder.”

  The look on Rebecca’s face turned defiant. “I don’t know who the hell I’m related to,” she said.

  I shrugged. “No big deal. I know who my father was, but he doesn’t acknowledge me. I grew up outside a Clan, also.”

  The stiffness Rebecca had assumed flowed out of her. “Did you know what you are?” she asked.

  “Oh, yes. I have a maternal line that stretches back a long way. We’re all bastards.” I saw Morrighan flinch at my use of the word. “The Clans are big on screwing around and pretending they’re pure.”

  Rebecca’s answer surprised me. “Not all of them are that way. O’Donnell doesn’t have the same views as the European Clans. We don’t make any distinction as to bastards, wilders, and princes of the blood.”

  “Well,” I said, “they definitely do in Ireland.”

  “I thought you were Welsh,” Rebecca said.

  “My mother is. My father is Irish. I’ve only met him a couple of times, and he wasn’t particularly friendly.” My voice was harsh, even to my own ears. I had always told myself that I didn’t care. But if I didn’t, would it bother me so much? Hell. I just knew that it always made me feel dirty and insignificant when he would visit Mum and barely acknowledge my existence.

  Morrighan leaned forward. “Do you mind if I tell her?” she asked me.

  It took me a moment to understand what she meant. I shook my head.

  “You know Rhiannon’s father,” Morrighan said. “He’s Hugh O’Neill.”

  Rebecca snorted a laugh.

  “Your mother must be a hell of a woman. As far as I can tell, you inherited nothing from him. Hugh is a waste of oxygen.”

  Morrighan and I stared at her, and she turned bright red. “Oh, shit. I’m sorry. Please forgive me. I’m such an idiot sometimes.”

  I started laughing. Morrighan joined me. I laughed until tears ran down my cheeks, spoiling the makeup I’d put on that morning.

  “Oh, hell,” I gasped, “I’ve thought that since I was five years old. It’s so good to hear someone else say it.”

  ~~~

  When we got back to Morrighan’s, I called Brendan, making my voice as timid as I could manage.

  “Brendan? I just wanted to know where we’re going tonight. You know, so I’d know how to dress.”

  After I hung up, Morrighan said, “It’s lucky you asked. Your clubbing dresses would be considered slutty there. You can wear the dress you wore to the embassy, but he’s already seen that, or the one you brought from Wicklow.”

  “Do you have something appropriate?” I asked Rebecca.

  She chuckled. “Oh, yeah. I’m used to shadowing the rich and beautiful.”

  The teal silk-satin evening dress I’d brought from Wicklow was the most incredible thing I’d ever worn. It fit like a glove and caressed my skin the way I’d always hoped a lover would. The wide V-neck bodice was sexy without being overly revealing, and it didn’t feel like I might fall out of the built-in bra. The diagonal ruffles at one hip and the knee-high slit on the other side made it interesting. It almost hit the floor, but when I put on the three-inch heels that went with it, I could walk without a problem.

  Rebecca emerged from her room and I frankly stared. The lioness Protector had morphed into a femme fatale that took my breath away. Her makeup was perfect. She wore a sleeveless amber mid-calf cocktail dress that matched her eyes. The scoop neck revealed a hint of cleavage. A hint was all she had to show, but the dress showed it well. She strutted across Morrighan’s living room in four-inch stilettos, turned, and walked back the other way.

  “How do I look?” she asked with a sly smile.

  Morrighan laughed. “Rhiannon, she’s sandbagging you. She worked as a model before she joined her Clan.”

  I could believe it. With her build and height, Rebecca would look right at home on a fashion runway.

  I twirled around. “How do I look?”

  “Like a succubus movie star on the red carpet,” Rebecca said.

  I felt my face grow warm.

  “She doesn’t seem to be aware of how she looks,” Morrighan smirked.

  I sighed. “I am very aware of how I look. Why does everyone say that? I just don’t feel a need to spend half my life putting on makeup and shopping for clothes.”

  “Speaking of makeup,” Rebecca said. “Do you want to cover up that shiner?”

  I’d forgotten. When I looked in the mirror, all I saw was the dress. They sat me down and lightly powdered my face. It didn’t completely cover the bruising, but it looked like I tried. They also applied light eye makeup and lipstick. Then Rebecca retrieved a perfume sprit
zer from her room and squeezed off a couple of shots over my head.

  “What is that?” I asked. “It smells wonderful.”

  “Eau de Succubus,” she said. “It’s a combination of an herbal perfume that smells like a succubus naturally smells and succubus pheromone concentrate. Brenna makes it for me.”

  “I never wear perfume,” Morrighan said, sniffing the air. “Everything I’ve ever tried stinks when I put it on.”

  “You and every other succubus,” Rebecca said. “You don’t need perfume. You all smell like wildflowers.”

  “Succubus pheromones?” I asked.

  “Yeah. We want to hook him. This will seal the deal.”

  ~~~

  Chapter 25

  Brendan knocked on the door at exactly eight o’clock. I opened the door and enjoyed watching his reaction. He didn’t say anything, just stared. I’m not normally vain, but any woman who tells you she doesn’t enjoy an appreciative reaction when she’s all dressed up is a liar.

  In his limo, I watched his face flush and his breathing quicken. The succubus pheromones definitely had an effect. I was glad the ride was short. I’m not sure if his control would have held if we’d spent more time closed up together.

  It was just the driver and the two of us, and I considered taking them out. Scanning the area around us, I was able to sense the O’Byrne team, but also at least two other groups of telepaths within a block of us. Too chancy.

  We walked into the restaurant and I had to smother a giggle. The couple ahead of us was Rebecca and Donny, who cleaned up quite nicely. When we were seated, I looked around and found them sitting at a table about twenty feet away from Brendan and me.

  *How are we doing?* I sent to her.

  *He has at least eight men surrounding the restaurant,* Rebecca replied. *Seems like overkill. We’re outnumbered. I don’t think we’re going to be able to take him tonight.*

  I settled in for dinner. At the very least, I could use this to gather information and set him up for another try.

  After we ordered and the waiter brought the wine, Brendan leaned forward, staring intently at my face. “How did you get hurt?”

  I forced blood to my face to feign a blush. “I’m rather clumsy sometimes,” I said, looking down at my lap. “Is it really ugly? I’m sorry.”

  He smiled. “You’re beautiful. I’m concerned because it looks like someone hit you.”

  I forced more of a blush, feeling my face grow warm, and shrugged. “It’s really my fault. I do stupid things sometimes. I shouldn’t make him angry.”

  “Who? A boyfriend?”

  I tried to shrink deeper in my chair. I’d seen this kind of body language too many times. Women trying to make themselves small, offering submission.

  “Yes,” I said.

  “In London?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is that why you’re back here in Dublin?” He was using Empathic Projection to make me confide in him, make me feel safe with him.

  *Let your shields leak a little,* Rebecca sent. *You don’t want him to know how strong you are.*

  I did as she suggested and felt a rush of emotion from her. Emotional pain and humiliation so deep I was almost overwhelmed. I’d never felt anything like it. You can’t project a feeling you haven’t felt. In the back of my mind, I wondered when the strong, confident, swaggering woman I knew had felt that way. I saw O’Driscoll’s eyes light up with pleasure as the feelings leaked through my shields. This was what he enjoyed. Suffering and humiliation.

  “I think it’s good that you got away from him,” Brendan said.

  “He just needs some time away from me. After he cools off, I think he’ll accept my apology.”

  We ate dinner, and O’Driscoll did his best to continue milking the emotions from me, asking about my boyfriend, trying to get me to go into more detail about the emotional, psychological and physical abuse I’d suffered. He was solicitous, caring, comforting. But he never let it go.

  *He’s loving this,* Rebecca sent. *I can feel the pleasure oozing out of him all the way over here.*

  *Yeah,* I responded. *He’s a Goddamn emotional vampire.*

  When the waiter cleared our plates, I excused myself to go to the ladies’ room. When I was coming back, Rebecca sent, *He spiked your drink.*

  It figured. He was so turned on that he wasn’t taking any chances. He wanted to take our ‘relationship’ to the next level. I shuddered to think what that might entail.

  As I neared the table, I turned my ankle enough to send me off balance and hook the heel of one shoe on the other. Lurching forward, I put out my hands to catch myself and knocked over both my water and wine glasses. The liquid poured across the tablecloth toward him. He jumped back, upending his chair with a crash. Everyone in the restaurant turned toward us.

  *Wow,* Rebecca sent, *you’re good. That was nicely done.*

  *I do clumsy well. I have a lot of experience,* I told her. I heard her bark of laughter from across the room.

  “Oh, my God. I’m so sorry,” I wailed. “I’m so clumsy. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” I picked up my napkin and tried to mop up the liquid.

  “You stupid cow,” O’Driscoll said. He was livid. Seeing him wiping at a wet spot on the front of his jacket and pants, I hurried around the table and tried to wipe his pants. Of course, the napkin I was using was soaked, so it only made it worse. I kept up a steady litany of apologies.

  Two waiters hurried over to try to contain the catastrophe.

  *Man, I’ll bet you could fry an egg on his forehead,* Rebecca sent.

  I choked back a burst of laughter, hoping the sound that I made sounded like a sob. Rebecca pushed more humiliation into me, and suddenly tears streamed down my face.

  “Oh, God, I’m so sorry,” I wailed. “I didn’t mean to. It was an accident.”

  O’Driscoll assumed a stony face, letting the waiters clean up and try to dry him off. I watched him out of the corner of my eye, seeing firsthand what I’d seen so often in the minds of my clients. Abused women always make excuses for their abusers. They blame themselves for everything that goes wrong in a relationship. They try to make everything right. And even when they’ve done nothing wrong, they lie to protect the bastards. It was enlightening seeing O’Driscoll automatically assume that I deserved punishment for anything that inconvenienced him.

  *Rebecca, I need an exit,* I sent as the waiters reseated us with fresh drinks. O’Driscoll was fuming but trying to put on a stiff-upper-lip front. Whatever objectives we might have had for this ‘date’, I needed to get the hell out of there. O’Driscoll was covered by a small army outside the restaurant, and there was no way I was going to get in a car alone with him in his mood.

  *Got you covered.*

  My mobile rang.

  I answered and Rebecca said, “Lady O’Byrne died. She had a heart attack.”

  I gasped and felt the blood run out of my face. I swayed in my seat and felt faint.

  *Not really,* Rebecca sent. *Sorry. This is part of the game. Tell O’Driscoll that Morrighan was in a car crash and you have to go to the hospital. I’ll have a taxi waiting for you outside.*

  O’Driscoll’s face changed, concern showing in his eyes, and he leaned forward.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked. I was sure that the concern was because whatever I’d heard on the phone was interrupting his plan for me, not because he cared about something that might upset me.

  “Morrighan’s been in an auto accident. She’s gone to hospital. I have to go.”

  I jumped up and grabbed my bag, starting toward the exit. As if suddenly remembering O’Driscoll, I stopped and turned back to him.

  “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. But she’s the only family I have. I’m staying with her. I need to see if she’s all right.”

  O’Driscoll gave me a frosty nod and signaled for the waiter. I rushed toward the exit.

  I was standing outside on the sidewalk when a taxi pulled up, and I leaned down to see the driver. Aidan smiled at me, an
d I opened the back door. At that moment, O’Driscoll walked up beside me and touched my elbow. I turned toward him, bracing for a confrontation.

  “Is she hurt badly?” he asked.

  “I don’t know. Her cousin called me. He didn’t know how bad it is, only that she was taken to hospital. I’m sorry. I’ve made such a mess of the evening.”

  He nodded, agreeing with me. “I’d like to see you again.”

  I felt a push of emotion from Rebecca. Remorse, shame, and lust. I felt my own emotions tumble into turmoil. Realizing what Rebecca was doing, I let the emotions leak through my shields.

  “Even after I ruined your suit?”

  “It only cost five thousand euros,” he said. The controller was making sure his victim felt guilty. Goddess, the bastard was classic.

  I stepped toward him, stopping less than six inches away, and looked up into his face. If I didn’t know what kind of monster he was, I’d have probably been swayed by how handsome he was.

  “Do you really want to see me again? After I messed things up so badly?”

  Rebecca pushed lust into me. I felt a rush of heat between my legs. I couldn’t believe how the woman was playing me. It had never occurred to me that Empathic Projection could be such a powerful Gift.

  I took what she gave me and played it to the max. I put my hands on O’Driscoll’s chest. Telepaths avoid casual contact. Physical contact creates a stronger connection. The lust I was feeling was transmitted to him without any filtering.

  I saw his eyes dilate and his nostrils flare. “Call me,” he said.

  “I will.” I stood a moment longer, waiting for something more. He just stood looking down at me, making no move to touch me, hug me, or kiss me. Controller. He demanded that I come to him.

  I turned and got in the taxi. Aidan drove off. I turned in my seat and looked back. O’Driscoll stood on the sidewalk watching me. The stony expression on his face hadn’t changed.

  ~~~

  Aidan took me to a hospital and let me out at the emergency entrance.

  “We’re being followed,” he told me. “Morrighan and Peter are inside. They’ll give you a ride home.”