Tested: The Dark Necessities—Dalton's Tale #3

by Felicity Brandon

  “You are so adorable, Reilly,” he said, taking a step toward him. “No wonder that little whore Delilah loves you so much.”

  Dalton swallowed back the insult, though his hands balled into fists from inside the unyielding cuffs. He was too weak to react with conviction. Better to save his wrath for a time, he could make Hyland pay than give him more of what he wanted—the impotent Dalton Reilly show.

  “Anyway, I think Miss Clary will prove to be useful to me. I’m told she’s the property of your brother, Connor—the one who caused me such a headache this morning. Apparently, she's a full-time sexual submissive.”

  Molly’s gaze widened, her focus flying back to the man looming beyond the cage.

  “How do you know that?” she gasped. “I never told you that!”

  Hyland chuckled, turning to glare down at her. “I have my ways, Molly. My own… sources of information.”

  “What?” Dalton’s brow furrowed further as Hyland’s grin widened.

  “Yes, that’s right, Dalton. I have my own sources. You didn’t think you were the only ones with a mole, did you?”

  Dalton gulped, though the deed did nothing to remedy either his parched throat or his head. On the outside, he tried to maintain his composure, to keep his responses even, but on the inside, things were unraveling fast.

  If Hyland was telling the truth, he had a double agent inside The Syndicate. That would be news to Saul, but it explained the way his men had been able to take Delilah in the first place. They had known just where they would be, waiting for the first opportunity the couple had been vulnerable. His heart sank.

  Delilah, are you there?

  Nothing. He couldn’t tune into her thoughts as Hyland started a circuit of the chair he’d been flung into.

  Delilah?

  Dalton.

  He started, pulling in a painful lungful of air at the response, but it wasn’t his lover’s soft tone, but the harder, edgier one of his brother.

  Connor, can you hear me?

  What. The. Fuck? Why am I hearing you in my head?

  If he had the energy, Dalton might have smiled.

  You hear my thoughts, he tried to clarify. Just like I heard you at the hospital. Just like Mum and I used to do.

  Holy fuck.

  Yeah. Dalton concentrated. Look, we don’t have time. Where are you?

  There was a pause. I’m with Delilah. She has a plan, and I think it’ll buy you some time. Listen, how’s Molly?

  Dalton’s gaze flitted in Molly’s direction. She looked tired and terrified.

  She’s here. She’s okay, but…

  What? Connor’s voice snapped at him. What’s wrong with her?

  Nothing. Dalton emphasized the point. But Hyland has his eyes on her, and I’m in no state to counter him. She needs help.

  Fuck.

  The energy coming from his little brother was so strong, it was practically rolling off him in waves—waves Dalton could detect from all the way inside Hyland’s office.

  If he fucking touches her, I’ll kill him.

  I know. Dalton closed his swollen eyes. Hyland must have pounded the crap out of him earlier. I know, and I’m sorry. I’m just so weak, and they have me bound.

  It’s okay. It was a resolute Connor who replied to him. We’re here. We’ll be with you soon, and Saul is about fifteen minutes away. Hang in there, Dalton, and in the meantime, don’t let him touch my kitten.

  Dalton’s jaw tightened. I won’t. He assured Connor. I’ll throw myself in front of a bullet if I have to.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Connor

  The final part of the drive to Hyland’s building was filled with strained silence. Tension grew around them in the same way mold grew on damp walls—taking root and poisoning everything around it—and as Connor considered the analogy, the more fitting it became. Hyland and his men were that mold. They’d been sitting dormant for years, making trouble in the background while Connor locked himself up in his isolated little house, getting over the death of his old girlfriend and planning for Molly. In all that time, he reasoned Hyland had caused Saul a degree of shit, but nothing as flagrant as this—nothing as inescapable. It took Delilah and the impact she’d had on his older brother for the rot to really take hold and start to bring the house of cards down. Now that it had, Connor realized the mold had tainted everything—every corner of the organization was hinged on the old, rotten rivalry between Saul and Zander and how to avoid confrontation between their men.

  But that was impossible.

  Hyland had crossed a line when he’d taken Connor’s brother and most importantly, his kitten.

  Connor called Saul to update him with everything they knew and what they intended to do. As expected, the self-styled leader of The Syndicate was less than impressed with Connor’s plan, but it didn’t bother him anymore.

  “You’re only fifteen minutes or so behind us,” he retorted to Saul’s list of objections.

  “So, why not just wait?”

  “Saul, it’s Molly and Dalton. We’re not just sitting in the fucking car and waiting.”

  That, as it transpired, was the final word on the matter.

  Delilah was restless beside him, her attention darting between Connor and the window. It was like she was having a private conversation in her head, and as he ended the call, her hands rose to her hair before she sighed and closed her eyes wearily.

  “Are you okay?” In the end, Connor just had to ask. “You know, apart from the obvious?”

  Delilah turned her face toward him. “Yeah, I’m just…” She bit her lip. “Don’t worry, you’ll think I’m crazy.”

  Connor laughed. The woman was sitting in his favorite jacket in only her underwear, and they were on their way to single-handedly rescue Dalton and Molly.

  Life seemed pretty crazy already.

  But he didn’t push the point.

  Connor had no energy for that.

  “Okay.” He lifted his palms as a sign of concession. “But I’m here if you want to talk.”

  She smirked at him. “Is that right?” Delilah was almost chortling. “The great Connor Reilly wants me to talk to him?”

  He arched a brow at her. “Hey, only if you want to, and who’s been talking?”

  Delilah smiled. “It’s just a few things Dalton has mentioned,” she replied with a shrug. “I don’t know any details, but it’s the feeling I get about you, Connor. You’re a contradiction.”

  His brow rose.

  Perhaps, she was right.

  “Maybe.” He sighed. “Either way, try to rest. We’ll be there soon, and whatever happens, Molly and Dalton need us.”

  Her expression hardened, just as the image of Dalton filled Connor’s mind.

  Dalton.

  His only brother and the man he’d nearly lost just over a week ago because of Hyland’s insanity. Connor wasn’t going through this again.

  He couldn’t lose Dalton.

  He needed him.

  Delilah, are you there?

  The unmistakable sound of his brother’s voice echoed through Connor’s head. Knitting his brows, he lifted a hand to his temple. Christ, with everything that had been going on, maybe Connor had finally started to lose it, and hearing Dalton again in his head, was the first sign of his madness.

  Delilah?

  There it was again. As clear as day. As real as if Dalton was sitting in the seat between him and Delilah.

  Dalton.

  Crap, now Connor had really lost it. Not only was he hearing voices, he was fucking responding to them! They locked people away for less, didn’t they?

  Connor, can you hear me?

  His throat dried at Dalton’s answer. How was this happening? He hadn’t heard Dalton in his head since that time in the hospital—the time Connor had believed he was going to lose him altogether.

  The time he’d commanded his brother stick around.

  What. The. Fuck? Connor exhaled as he glanced out of his obscured window. Why am I hearing you in
my head?

  It just didn’t make sense. None of this made any sense.

  You hear my thoughts, Dalton clarified. Just like I heard you at the hospital. Just like Mum and I used to do.

  Connor pulled in a breath. This couldn’t be right, could it? All those times, Dalton had told him about the so-called special connection he’d shared with their mother, all those endless conversations about his alleged telepathy, but Connor had never bought into the tale.

  He’d never once believed… until now.

  Holy fuck.

  Yeah. Dalton sounded exhausted, but Connor swore he could hear the amusement in his tone. Look, we don’t have time. Where are you?

  Connor paused, peering out into the shitty London streets. I’m with Delilah. She has a plan, and I think it’ll buy you some time He was thinking so fast, he could barely keep up. Listen, how’s Molly? He waited for Dalton to answer, every passing second ratcheting up the tension in his body.

  She’s here. She’s okay, but…

  What? Connor couldn’t take much more, an image of all the horrendous fucking things Hyland might do to his kitten exploding behind his eyelids. What’s wrong with her?

  Nothing. Dalton seemed to emphasize the point. But Hyland has his eyes on her, and I’m in no state to counter him. She needs help.

  Fuck. A wave of fear and impotency landed on Connor, and it was like nothing he’d ever known before. Even when he’d been in prison, out of contact with them all and unable to speak to Molly, he’d never felt this low, this uncertain—this insecure.

  The emotions ravaged him, ripping at his heart.

  If he fucking touches, her, I’ll kill him. Connor sent his brother the message with everything he had.

  I know. Dalton sounded almost as desolate as he felt. I know, and I’m sorry. I’m just so weak, and they have me bound.

  Connor shook his head. This wasn’t Dalton’s fault—far from it. Dalton’s only mistake was loving Delilah and wanting to save her. As Connor hurtled toward Hyland’s clutches, he could hardly criticize Dalton for that.

  It’s okay. We’re here. We’ll be with you soon, and Saul is about fifteen minutes away.

  He exhaled again, glancing at Delilah. Her eyes were closed, and fleetingly, he wondered if she had drifted to sleep or forced herself into some kind of meditative state.

  Hang in there, Dalton. Connor’s thoughts returned to his brother. And in the meantime, don’t let him touch my kitten.

  I won’t. I’ll throw myself in front of a bullet if I have to. Dalton’s tone was determined and gave Connor hope.

  He smiled. Don’t do that. Just keep yourselves alive.

  “Connor.” Kenny’s voice broke the connection with Dalton, and Connor’s focus shifted to the driver’s seat. “We’re here.”

  Connor glanced out of the window again to find a dirty looking building looming overhead.

  “Where do you want me to wait?”

  “Just circle until you hear from one of us,” Connor told him, sensing and understanding the driver’s reticence. Kenny would rather have waited for Saul. “The others will be here soon. You and Wallace can link with them and give them our guns and ammo.”

  The older man nodded. “Good luck.”

  “Delilah.” Connor reached across and nudged her arm lightly. “Delilah, this is it.”

  Her eyes sprung open immediately. “I can tell. I swear the smell of this place never fucking goes away.”

  Connor smirked. “How do you want to play this?”

  “Like we said. Get me inside, then take the jacket off. A virtually naked woman should draw the right attention, and most of his odious men know me, anyway.” She glanced in his direction, her gaze neither relaxed nor intimidated. “I’m sure you know how to talk to guys like that.”

  Sadly, he did know how to. Until a day ago, he might very well have been categorized by Delilah as those guys.

  “Insist they take you to Hyland’s office. That’s where they are.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  She gazed at him, her eyes knowing, and for one lingering moment, Connor realized Delilah had been communicating with Dalton, too. She heard him in her head. It had, after all, been her name his brother had called when Connor had first acknowledged him.

  “Dalton told you.” Connor lowered his tone, checking the intercom wasn’t switched on.

  Delilah’s brow rose. “How did you know?”

  “I heard him, too.” He shook his head at how ludicrous that sounded. “I heard him in my head just now. You’re not crazy, or if you are, so am I.” After all the fucked-up things Connor had done in his life, that was a real possibility.

  She smiled. “Okay, so you believe me. We need to get to the office and create a diversion, which will help Saul and the others to do their bit when they arrive.”

  Connor swallowed. It was an insane plan, but it was the only one they had.

  “Makes sense.”

  “Really?”

  He laughed. “Yes, really. Are you ready to do this?”

  She blew out a large breath. “Not in the slightest. You?”

  “No fucking way.”

  “It’s for Dalton and Molly,” Delilah reminded him. “We have to do this, Connor. We have to make it look convincing—you have to make it look like you took me under duress and have brought me here against my will. Do you think you can do that?”

  He smiled at her apparent naivety. If any man in the world could pull that off, it was Connor.

  “That’s why we’re here. I have some binds right here, under the seat.”

  Connor reached down, feeling for the rope. They always ensured every car in the fleet had at least one length. It was another one of the advantages of being a member of The Syndicate—guns, women, and unfettered access to bondage on demand.

  Grasping it, he yanked the length of rope, watching as Delilah’s eyes widened.

  “Wow, you really are prepared.” She sniggered, holding her wrists out in his direction.

  “You’re sure about this?” He arched a brow at her, wanting to check she truly understood what she was getting herself into, but then, if anyone knew what a scumbag Hyland was, it was Delilah.

  “As I said,” she murmured. “We have to do this.”

  Connor pressed his lips into a hard line. “Hands behind your back then,” he instructed, ignoring any trace of desire which swept through him at the order. “It will look far more like I have you under duress if you’re properly restrained.”

  “But then, how will you get the jacket off?”

  His gaze fell over the well-loved garment.

  “I’ll just yank it open at the front and pull it down until it collects at your wrists.” He told her. “You won’t be able to move or resist me, but we’ll all be able to see everything.”

  A patch of heat bloomed in her cheeks before she unfastened her safety belt and slid on the leather seat in Connor’s direction. Turning, so her back was to him, she moved her wrists into the small of her back.

  “It seems you’ve thought of everything, Mr. Reilly.” Delilah glanced over her shoulder with the assertion, and he smiled.

  “You have no idea, Delilah. You have no idea…”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Delilah

  This was the culmination of Delilah’s entire life. Hyland and his cronies were the genesis of everything negative that had occurred since before she was nine years old. Dalton and The Syndicate were hope—the possibility for so much more, and now, as Connor pulled her bound body from the back of the car and hauled her toward the entrance of Hyland’s building, those two worlds collided.

  “Not a word from you when we get inside unless I tell you.” Connor breathed the words into her hair, his strong hand holding her fettered wrists in place. “Understand?”

  Delilah’s brow rose. She wasn’t used to being spoken to this way by either Reilly brother, and she had to admit, Connor was playing his part better than she’d expected.

  “I’ve
got it.” She turned her head to catch his gaze as they approached the glass-fronted foyer. “Although I’ll have to play along a little. Hyland will expect that much.”

  Standing on the precipice of this latest, crazy plan, Connor inhaled.

  “Good luck.” He whispered the words into the back of her head, and seconds later, pulled the door open.

  Delilah had no real time to process or even think about the sentiment behind his words, but in the very pit of her belly, an ominous feeling bloomed.

  Good luck.

  What was that supposed to mean?

  Was Connor going to stick to the plan, or just hand her over to Hyland and be done with her? After all, she’d caused him nothing but grief since she and Dalton were captured in St. James’ park.

  She swallowed back the gloom, not allowing it to grow. There was no way that was going to happen. Connor wouldn’t do that, and Dalton would never allow it.

  Delilah.

  At that moment, she heard her lover’s voice float through her mind.

  I’m coming, Dalton. She closed her eyes briefly as Connor pushed her forward into the lobby. I’m coming.

  “What’s this?” A gruff voice drew her attention, and she turned to see a stocky guy wandering in their direction.

  “Tell Hyland I’m bringing back what belongs to him,” Connor snarled, yanking her bound arms for effect.

  The guy’s eyes widened, his lips beginning to curl. “And who are you?”

  “The name’s Connor Reilly, and if you don’t know who this is, your boss will.”

  “Oh, I recognize Delilah.” He grinned, displaying a row of uneven, yellowing teeth. Reflexively, she pressed herself back against Connor. “Mr. Hyland will be glad to have her back.”

  “Pleased to hear it.” Connor paused. “I’ll take her up myself.”

  “I’ll need to check in with Mr. Hyland first.”

  Connor snorted. “Of course. You’d better run along and see what the boss says, but…” He reached around her body, unfastening the buttons of his jacket with deft fingers and tugging the warm fabric away from her shoulders. “You’d better make it fast before I change my mind.”