by Winters, KB
She didn’t even crack a smile. “I’m serious.” She stepped close to me and pushed me down so I sat on the sofa and her fingertips lightly brushed my jaw. “I’ll monitor you for a concussion, but I mean it, limit the fighting Rourke. Use your words.”
“Words? What am I, a kid?” I scoffed. “There’s an exit about sixty feet from that door. No locks either. But it’s the only one I had time to find.” It wasn’t the greatest news, but for now it was all I had.
“Okay so we just need to figure out the exact right minute to get out of here.” Her voice sounded steady, and I couldn’t even look at her because she was tending to the scrape above my brow, the bruise on my jaw, and then she put some cream on my ribs.
“What happened,” she asked, “other than the fighting I mean?”
“They took some photos, probably to send my family.” She leaned closer, bringing her tits right into my line of sight.
“Like this?”
I nodded, then winced when her fingers hit a tender spot.
She grimaced at that news. “That’s what I was afraid of. The guy from earlier came in and made me call my dad.”
“Did he ask your dad for anything?”
“Not during the call, but it sounds like they’d talked before. Like they knew each other.” When she stepped back I moaned a little as her tits retreated, but she cleared her throat, and I looked up at her with a smile on my lips.
“Let me know if you feel any dizziness or nausea. You’re all bandaged up so lie back and relax. I found some aspirin that hasn’t expired yet.”
“You gonna toss it in my mouth from over there?” I shouldn’t have teased her, but damn, seeing her get all fiery was just fun.
“I wasn’t going to, but I can. Open up.”
We’d been kidnapped, beaten, trampled on and locked up but at least we weren’t fuckin’ bored.
Chapter Eight
Margo
“You can’t help yourself, can you?” I was enjoying the flirty banter with Rourke. He was gorgeous and had more charm in him than a thousand men, not to mention the fact that he was an excellent distraction.
“What?”
“The charm. The flirting. Do you ever turn it off?” It was nice to feel wanted but at some point it just felt, I didn’t know, gratuitous. Cheap. Like he was a machine performing a task, rather than a man enjoying a few minutes of a woman’s time.
“Does it bother you?”
“Not at all. Just wondered.” The truth was that I hoped he didn’t turn it off, hell I hoped he couldn’t turn it off because that would keep him off limits. I didn’t date players, man whores, guy sluts, playboys or other people’s husbands. Though I had a deep suspicion that Rourke was also a member of another demographic I didn’t date.
Gangsters.
“You’re wondering if I’m really attracted to you, or if I’m just keeping busy.” He didn’t even ask it like a question because he was so sure he was right.
“Actually I thought maybe you did it so you’d never get rusty.” I tried to keep a straight face; I really did. But he looked so offended that I couldn’t hold back.
“I never get rusty at anything, sweetheart.” He winked and I felt it all the way down to my thighs.
I shook it off and slid across the sofa until my back hit the other end. “Interesting. Show me your go to move.”
“No way, babe.”
I glared at him, but he just laughed.
“Okay, maybe later.”
That was the perfect opening. “Good, I have something else I want to talk about.”
I’d thought about it long and hard while I waited for Rourke to come back, sure I’d have to treat more of his wounds. I figured the only way we could find a way to get the hell out of here was to trust each other.
“I’m listening.” He’d crossed his arms defensively like he wasn’t going to listen to anything I had to say.
“Either you are really committed to these guys or you’re not one of them.”
Rourke barked out a laugh and looked at me like I’d grown a third eye. “Are those my only two options?”
“No. Look, what I’m saying is if we want to get out of here, and I definitely do, then we have to trust each other. At least a little bit. And after talking to my dad, it sounded like we might be here longer than a few days.”
That little bit of info seemed to grab his attention as he sat up straighter and his gaze focused on mine. “Okay. What did he say?”
“That depends.”
“On what,” he barked.
“Who you really are. What’s your name? And be honest.” I was prepared to share some of my family details because I didn’t want to end up stuck in this place for days on end. Or months like Uncle Owen.
“Rourke. Flannigan. You’ll get my middle name when I’ve been inside you.”
I almost spit out, yes, please. “That’s it? Flannigan?” I’d heard of a guy named Rourke, but he wasn’t a Flannigan. “So no other names? Family ties?”
He laughed again. “The name you’re looking for Margo, is Connelly. Patrick Connelly of the Connelly family is my uncle.”
The Connelly Family. “So Eamon and Shae are your cousins?” The famously handsome and charming Connelly brothers.
“You got it babe.”
“Okay. You’re a cousin, not a brother?” But now so much about him made sense from the way he carried himself, comfortable in a suit but just as comfortable throwing a punch. He was calm in a crisis and good on his feet.
“Sorry to disappoint. Still interested?” He wagged his eyebrows at me, dammit.
“Who said I was interested?” I was totally interested, even now when it was confirmed that he was a full-fledged gangster. Like my father. Sometimes—like right now—I hated being responsible and making good decisions.
“Don’t bullshit a bullshitter, sweetheart. You want me and that’s okay.” His gaze darkened and slowly roamed over my body and was heavy and intimate as a lover’s caress. “Now, tell me Margo, who are you?”
“Margo Byrne.”
“Donovan Byrne’s little girl?”
“Not so little anymore.” His gaze settled on my tits like the Super Bowl was playing on them. He licked his lips and then slowly returned his gaze to mine.
“Indeed.” Rourke’s brows dipped in confusion. “I should have known. I thought you didn’t have anything to do with the family business.”
“I don’t. But there’s something about this that feels wrong. Not that I’ve ever been kidnapped before, but something feels off.”
“Like they’re scrambling, trying to make decisions on the fly,” he said in total agreement.
“Yeah, and there’s something my dad said.” I lowered my tone like my dad’s voice. “‘This isn’t about business, not in the way you think.’” I hadn’t stopped replaying that conversation in my mind to make sure I’d understood exactly what he told me.
“Shit. You don’t know these guys at all?”
I shook my head.
“The Milanos, they’re cleaners.”
“Cleaners? Like housekeepers and maids?” I knew I sounded like an idiot but I took pride in the fact that I was mostly clueless about my dad’s business.
“No, like bodies and crime scenes.”
Duh. “Oh. Right.”
“They’re trying to make moves in Rocket, become something more than what they are. What they’ve always been.”
He was getting riled up. “They’re good at it, better than anyone around. But that’s not enough.” I listened as he told me about their escalating attacks on his family’s businesses. “The Milanos are definitely behind this. I just wonder what they want with you.”
I shrugged. “Only two things. They either want my dad to take them on as a client, which would be weird, since he’s been in Rocket forever. Or they want him to pay a ransom, but I don’t think it’s a ransom.”
“Why? Do you think your old man would’ve paid it already?” The contempt in his voic
e was unmistakable, and I knew he didn’t have a good opinion of my father.
“I do, but a ransom isn’t business and he said business.” When I was younger that was just a euphemism for him going out and conducting his illegal activities, but as I grew older I began to understand. Crime was his business.
“I bet they’re trying to take over both of the Byrne and Connelly businesses. Like the stupid fuckers they are.” Rourke scoffed.
I shook my head. “Wow. I didn’t even think of that. Not until just this second. Shit.”
Rourke got up from the sofa and let out a long breath. “Exactly. Shit. We can’t afford to wait.”
“Right. But we need to figure out what these guys do. Their routines, find our opening and take it.” He paced the small room. I could tell his mind already swirled with thoughts, ideas.
“You’re right.”
“Yep. I’m always right. And just think of all the extra time you’ll get to spend with me, all because of the fucking Milanos.”
He grinned and sat back down. “Lucky me.”
I let my gaze slide from his deep brown eyes to the light smattering of hair that covered his chest, the ridges of his abs and sweet Lord Almighty, the soft path to paradise.
He was yummy, plain and simple.
“Lucky you,” I said and grinned back. My stomach chose that moment of silence to let out a loud, unladylike growl. “Guess I’d rather have food to go with this view.”
He laughed and the sound was deep and rich, like what I imagined it would be like to have cocoa by a fireplace. “So Margo Byrne, do you have a boyfriend?”
“Nope. You?”
“Nah, I don’t date men.”
“Women either, I suspect.” His brows shot up in surprise. “What, you think I don’t know a player when I see one?”
“Not a player,” he amended. “Just someone who makes their expectations known up front.” Then Rourke slid across the sofa and laid a hand on my thigh, and I sucked in a breath that made him grin.
“Yeah? And what are those expectations?” That breathy, sultry voice belonged to me.
“Keep it casual.”
His hand slid up my thigh until the length of his pinky brushed along the side of my pussy, and I almost lost it. “Simple and short.”
Yeah, he was a player but when he was this close to me, his sweaty skin, musky and sexy, called to me. The heat of his body added to the heat building within me and his nearness had my heart racing like I’d just gone a few rounds in the UFC octagon.
“Simple and short. Sounds a lot like hit it and quit it to me.” I snarked.
“Oh make no mistake, Margo. I definitely plan to hit it.” He flashed a grin that would have turned my panties to dust if they weren’t already too wet to catch fire and before I could tell him what I thought of his proclamation, his mouth closed over mine.
It shocked me even though it shouldn’t have, we’d been heading in this direction since we’d met, but this was just adrenaline and hormones. Chemistry and the heat of this crazy fucked up situation we found ourselves in. That was all.
His mouth moved as smoothly when he kissed as it did when he spoke, his tongue slicked back and forth across the seam of my mouth, a slow dragging motion that made me happy I was sitting because my legs would not have held me up, not while his lips touched mine. Then his finger, maybe his thumb grazed up and down the seam of my yoga pants, teasing my clit and making me gasp.
Stealthy as a ninja, his tongue slipped in on a gasp and the good guy, soft, gentle kisses were gone, replaced by a wild, feral intense kiss that made me feel like the whole damn world was on fire around us. His kiss was hotter than anything I’d ever experienced, and the way his hand lightly teased me between my legs kept me on a razor’s edge of pleasure. I wanted to give in, to rip off our clothes and just satisfy the dark urge in me.
But now was not the time.
I succumbed to the kiss and then I took over, kicking a leg over his lap and grasping his face in my hands. I drank in his handsome features before I closed my eyes and tasted his mouth again while my body connected with his. My hands roamed his hard, bare chest; his hands gripped my hips and slid me back and forth along the denim-covered ridge of his cock. He was hard and thick, and now I wanted him more than ever.
The metal click of the door was the only sound capable of breaking through the lust-filled fog we’d built up in that back room, and I was more thankful than ever that I’d found it.
“You hear that?” I whispered.
“Yeah. Stand but do it slowly. And quietly.”
I nodded and quickly did as he said. Now was not the time to argue over his tone. “Now what?” A quick look over my shoulder revealed a tall brown-haired man with a Buzzcut. He held a bag that my stomach quickly detected contained food.
“Dinner,” he grunted and tossed the bag on the floor at my feet. “Enjoy.”
I looked at the bag for a long moment, trying to decide if it was food or a bomb. Or poison. “Do you think we can trust it?”
“Probably not, but I also think we need our energy to get the hell out of here.”
I didn’t know if the food was okay to eat, but I was hungry as hell. I hadn’t eaten in hours—maybe days—since I’d set up my Chinese banquet before I was kidnapped. “I don’t know, Rourke.”
He stood and grabbed the bag, opened it up and I groaned when he gave me the menu. “Burritos, rice and beans, chips and soda.”
Mexican food was another weakness of mine and my stomach growled again, telling me exactly what I didn’t want to hear. I was eating this food whether it was a good idea or not. “What kind of burritos?”
He laughed and pulled out two. “I don’t think it matters.”
We dug into the takeout, eating it for the fuel and ignoring all the signs that eating it was a bad idea.
“So, Rourke, tell me what kind of delicious Irish food your mom cooks for you.”
“Fiona, that’s her name. She can make potatoes at least fifty ways but her stew with soda bread will rock your world. She doesn’t make a ton of Irish food but everything she makes is always really good.”
“My mom used to cook corned beef all the time and my dad complained it wasn’t authentic Irish, but it was the only dish she made well.” I smiled. I hadn’t thought of that memory in ages. “Uh-oh, I feel weird, we shouldn’t have eaten…” Everything felt like it had slowed down.
“Margo? Margo, are you all right?” His words were slow and they sounded far away, like I was under water. Things were going bad fast, and I was panicking.
“Stop. Stop. Eating.”
Whatever was wrong with me would soon be wrong with him too. I knew that much despite my fog.
“Drugs.” He said.
“What?” I slurred.
Rourke was at my side before I hit the ground, cradling my head in his hand. “You’re all right sweetheart.”
“The food. Something. In. It.” My eyelids began to droop and drowsiness set in, moments later my eyes were closed, and I was dead to the world.
Chapter Nine
Rourke
I woke up with a splitting headache, with my arms, hell my entire body wrapped around Margo’s petite frame, my hands clutching the flare of her hips and the swell of her breasts. Waking up with a woman’s soft curves pressed against me was always a damn good start to any day, but this headache, this woman and this day gave me pause.
First, because I had no fucking clue where I was. Only where I was not and that was at the same warehouse where I had fallen asleep. We were still in a warehouse but this one was different, empty with very few traces left behind of its former life. There were no rows of inventory waiting to be shipped, no signs of loyal employees or family photos. At least not from my spot in the middle of the floor. Not that it mattered to me. All I gave a damn about was finding a way out of here. To pay back the Milanos. Ten fold.
We were on a bare mattress that had seen better days, tossed haphazardly on the cement floor. This pla
ce wasn’t built for comfort. Or a long stay, which didn’t spell good news for either of us.
A soft moan escaped Margo’s parted lips as she woke up, her body slowly coming to life with every passing second. Uncurling her body and arching her back for a stretch, Margo froze when she finally realized just how close we were.
“Good morning, Margo.” The words came out on a growl, and I swear my cock grew hard at the low moan she let out.
She bolted upright. “Fuck. Where are we?”
“No idea.” But her words were a good reminder of what I should be doing instead of copping a feel on the curvy redhead.
“I know they moved us. Guess you were right. We shouldn’t have eaten those burritos.”
When I told my cousins about that shit, I would never live it down.
“It looks like morning now,” she said, pointing to a bank of windows behind me where the sun was coming up. “I wonder why they moved us to here. This can’t be good.”
She was right about that. There was no logical reason for the Milanos, no matter how incompetent, to change our location. Unless the previous place was compromised or they were abandoning us and hoping their identities couldn’t be traced. None of that seemed to fit, though.
“Probably not. So we should look around. See if we can figure out where we are.”
Margo got to her feet with impressive speed, smoothing down her crumpled t-shirt. “I need a shower so bad. I fucking stink. Fuck, what was in that food?”
She ran her fingers through her curls and tried to tamp them down. “No idea, but my head is fucking killing me. Bastards. So, I’ll go left and you go right?”
“Works for me.” We needed food if we could find it, weapons and anything else we could get our hands on. We split up and went searching for supplies but it was clear from the start that this wouldn’t be as fruitful as our last prison.
“Anything?” I called out.
Margo was silent for a long time before finally answering. “Nothing good. Except for a sink.” Seconds later the sound of water splashing against metal echoed around the room, and I smiled, making my way over.
Holy hell, she was gorgeous. It was just her back but it was smooth and creamy, pale with just a trail of freckles down the lower half of her spine. “Normally I don’t shower with a woman unless we’ve spent the entire night fucking, but for you I’ll make an exception.”