Taken (Thornton Brothers Book 3)

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Taken (Thornton Brothers Book 3) Page 24

by Sabre Rose


  “Mum, I need—”

  “Hush,” she demanded. “We can talk about this on the way home. For now, you just get your stuff. I’ll call your sister.”

  * * *

  A dazed Morgan sat in a chair in the lobby, head resting against her hand, the temptation of closing her eyes winning over before waking herself back up every time her head slipped off her hand.

  “What’s going on?” she asked when I sat down beside her. “Mum wouldn’t tell me anything, just that we were going home. Are you coming too?”

  Sadie walked through the lobby, stopping when she saw me, a frown crossing her face. “What’s going on?”

  She hadn’t been witness to the incident in the bar, though I was surprised to find that Tyler hadn’t gone running to her. Tears welled in my eyes again. I pushed them back but I still couldn’t muster a smile.

  “Might be best to ask Tyler that.”

  “Tyler?” Sadie sat down. “What’s he done?” Her tone was playful but when she looked into my eyes, she sighed and rested her hand on my thigh. “Do I need to talk to him?”

  I shook my head, unable to speak.

  “The beautiful bastard yelled at her in front of all these people, basically accusing her of cheating,” Morgan said, stifling a yawn.

  “Cheating?” Sadie repeated, her frown deepening.

  “There was a fight too.”

  “A fight?” It seemed all Sadie was capable of at this time was repeating words.

  “Tyler and Gabe, after he found Gabe and Lauren kissing.” The sleep had now left Morgan’s eyes and they were awake with gossip instead.

  “I didn’t kiss him,” I added wearily. “He kissed me.”

  Sadie’s eyes grew round. “Gabe kissed you?”

  I nodded.

  “And Tyler saw?”

  I nodded again.

  “Shit,” she muttered.

  “Shit,” I repeated.

  “Shit,” Morgan agreed.

  “Language, girls!” Mother scolded, catching the tail end of our conversation.

  “I’ll find him,” Sadie promised. “We’ll get this sorted. Don’t leave. Not yet.”

  “He doesn’t want to talk to me. I’ve already tried,” I replied. “And to be perfectly honest, it’s like the air around here is too thick with Thornton cologne for me to think, to breathe.”

  “But Tyler wouldn’t want—”

  “It isn’t about what Tyler wants,” I said with little emotion in my voice. “It’s about what I need. And what I need right now is to get as far away from here as I can.”

  Sadie pulled me close, patting my shoulder. “I get it. I’ll talk to him. I’ll explain.”

  “You shouldn’t need to,” I replied.

  * * *

  The car trip home was oddly quiet. Mother didn’t lecture me and the rest of my family fell asleep. I was crammed into the back seat with Morgan and Alistair, my head pressed against the glass, staring at the night sky.

  My perfect Tyler-shaped bubble had popped but now I was in another kind. One that felt cold and foggy and distanced me from the rest of the world. It made me turn off my phone rather than staring at it constantly, waiting for that one name to appear.

  When we finally reached my parents’ house, I ignored all the concerned stares and questions regarding my welfare and crawled fully dressed into bed, pulling the covers over my head and drowning myself in darkness.

  * * *

  Mother shook me awake after what seemed like a second later. “Lauren,” she said in the sharp way only Mother could. “Lauren you’ve got to come see this.”

  When I made my way into the lounge, the face of the morning news anchor was frozen on the TV screen and red bannered words stood out boldly. THORNTON INDUSTRIES OWNER CRASHES MERCEDES INTO GLASS FRONT OF HIS OWN CASINO.

  “What’s going on?” I asked.

  Dad pressed the remote and the news anchor’s face blurred back into motion.

  “And finally, we bring to you a rather odd story that unfolded overnight. Police responded to calls after Hamish Thornton, the owner of Thornton Industries, crashed his own car through the lavish glass front of the casino owned by his company. To make matters worse, it was during the opening night of the casino with many important guests and media invited along to the auspicious event.”

  Images of the shattered glass flashed across the screen, and sure enough, there was Hamish’s vehicle planted squarely in the entrance of the lobby. The images switched into motion to reveal a stumbling and drunk Hamish emerging from the vehicle and batting off the people that were attempting to help him. They then switched to him resisting the help of the police and eventually them escorting him away in handcuffs.

  The news anchor appeared back on screen. “Photos have also emerged of two of Mr Thornton’s sons allegedly in a fist fight earlier on in the evening. Thankfully, no one sustained any serious injuries from either incident.” Turning in her chair, the news anchor directed her attention away from the camera and towards the waiting weatherman. “Well, Dan, it sounds as though the evening didn’t all go according to plan for the Thornton family.”

  “One would think not, Hilary,” the weatherman replied. “This company better reign in the members of its namesake before they become a ‘thorn’ in its side.”

  Dad paused the screen on the news anchor’s face mid-smirk and eye roll.

  “Seems like that family you are so fond of has got themselves into a spot of bother,” Mother said, her brows lifting high in an expression that only meant one thing.

  I told you so.

  * * *

  Thank you for taking the time to read the Thornton Brothers.

  If you enjoyed the story, please consider leaving a review.

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  About the Author

  Sabre Rose writes about love and lust. Flawed people in messy relationships. Happiness and heartbreak. Loyalty and betrayal.

  With stories as unpredictable as they are steamy and intense, Sabre draws you into the lives of her characters and their complicated families.

  The ideas floating around her head range from delightful to dark, so sign up to her newsletter at www.subscribepage.com/sabrerose to keep up to date with her latest news and releases.

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  Sneak Peek

  Keep reading for a sneak peek at the first chapter of book four in the Thornton Brothers Series.

  Torn - Chapter 1

  TYLER

  The whiskey wasn’t doing its job. It was supposed to dull my mind, blur the memory that thudded through my head, but instead, it only served to make the memory more vivid.

  Lauren kissed him.

  His hands were twisted in her hair.

  His mouth was on hers.

  Her mouth was on his.

  I had walked into the bar to find her after her mother had uttered those words. I didn’t follow immediately. She said she needed to be alone.

  Alone.

  So I wasn’t expecting to find her sitting across the bar from him, smiling, laughing, touching. I didn’t expect to see her lean across and tenderly tuck his hair behind his ear.

  At first I was confused. A little hurt, but mainly confused. But I was prepared to give her the benefit of the doubt. Then, as I walked towards them, he leaned forward, wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her close, crushing those foul lips against hers.

  She didn’t pull away.

  In the second it took me to reach them, rage flooded my veins. Rage that left Gabe with a black eye, split skin over his cheekbone and a fat lip. Rage that had words flying viciously from my mouth. Rage that left Lauren crying in the middle of the foyer.

  Afterward, I sat at the bar and drank, wanting to forge
t everything I had just seen. But it didn’t work. With each sip, each swallow, each burn as it slid down my throat, the memory flashed through my mind. One drink, two, three, and still it was there as clear as the moment I witnessed it.

  I should have known it would happen. It was what I deserved from the way I took her from him. I guess I was naive to think she would be different with me. But still I wanted her. Still, part of me ached to run to her. But now was not the time. I didn’t know what to say.

  As I sat at the bar, swirling the contents of my next drink, staring at it as though it might hold the answers to a question I wasn’t sure of, slurred singing drifted from the lobby. My watch told me it was midnight. I had no idea how long I’d been sitting here for. Hours? Minutes? The voice in the lobby was low and drunk, and one that I recognised, although I don’t think I’d ever heard Hamish Thornton sing before. My father wasn’t one usually easily led to joviality. I guess we had that in common.

  I pulled myself from the seat, surprised to find myself swaying slightly. Although I didn’t feel drunk, the effects of the alcohol must have been working in some ways more than others.

  Dad was swaying to unheard music under the chandelier in the lobby. The same chandelier that Lauren cried under only hours before.

  “Tyler!” He smiled when he saw me. A drunken grin, to be sure, but still a grin. Another novelty for the usually sombre leader of the Thornton Industries. “You and Gabe get your shit sorted out?” he asked loud enough for the girl at reception to scowl.

  “You look like you should be in bed,” I replied.

  Dad twirled under the lights. “Can you feel it?” he asked.

  It was a strange sight. Hamish Thornton, so tall, so severe, swaying with his arms held wide as though he was trying to catch the particles of light that dripped from above.

  “Feel what?” I was in no mood to indulge him so my words were short and sharp.

  “The freedom,” he said. “The peace. The quite. The alone time.”

  I wasn’t sure if he was talking about me or him. He hadn’t been witness to the fight between Gabe and I, or the display between Lauren and I afterwards, but I certainly wasn’t enjoying the alone time. Especially not with the constant flashing images burned into my brain.

  “Where’s Billie?” I asked.

  “Shhhh,” Hamish hissed, holding his finger in front of his mouth. “I said I’d do it right, this time.” He slumped to the floor, tugging at the knot of his tie. “I said I’d be there for the kid, because I wasn’t there for you boys.”

  Apparently drunk Hamish was chatty Hamish.

  “Maybe that’s why you all hate each other so much. Well, you and Gabe, anyway. Maybe it’s not that bitches fault, after all. You didn’t get the attention you needed from your Dad so you’ve got to create it somewhere else.” He gave up on untying the knot of his tie and simply tugged it until there was enough space for his him pull it over his head and toss it away. “Anyway,” he continued, “I told Billie we’d do it together.” He took a deep breath and rolled his eyes. “To me that meant coming home in time for dinner, maybe bathing the kid at night or reading it a story or something. I even thought I’d change the odd nappy or two. Do you know I never changed one single diaper with you boys? Not one. Not with you. Not with Jake.” He listed us off using his fingers. “Not with Clark. Not with Gabe. But Billie has different ideas. To her, doing it together, literally means doing everything together.”

  He struggled to pull himself off the floor, coming close to me and waving his finger in my face. Apparently drunk Hamish was also dramatic Hamish.

  “Every time he wakes at night she drags me in there with her to feed him. Every single time. We don’t take turns. Nope. Every single fucking time. But it’s not the baby that’s getting to me. It’s her.” He stuck his finger in my chest. “I’m so sick of the sight of her. I just want some peace. I love the woman, I do, and she’s a wildcat in the bedroom, but—”

  Enough. “Please stop talking.” The sound of his voice was irritating, but hearing about his marital woes with Billie was too much. Frankly put, I didn’t give a fuck. I had my own shit to deal with.

  “I’m just sharing my life with my son. Just because I’m putting in the hard yards with this kid, doesn’t make me any less proud of you, Tyler. You’re the rock of this family. You’re what’s holding it together. The hard worker. The dutiful son.” Hamish paused. “Apart from when you are kicking the shit out of your brother. You really shouldn’t do that, you know.” Hamish swayed on his feet, the pallor of his skin quickly fading. “I need fresh air,” he said, swallowing. “I need to clear my head.”

  I stumbled towards the sliding door of the entrance and outside. It occurred to me that I should follow, make sure he was okay, but he was a grown man. I wasn’t my father’s babysitter.

  I turned back to the bar, sat in the same seat and signalled to the bartender to bring over the bottle of whiskey. Clearly it wasn’t working because I simply had not consumed enough. And there was a solution to that problem.

  But the universe conspired against me.

  “Tyler, we need to talk.”

  “Fuck off,” I growled over my drink, not looking behind me. I knew that if I turned and saw his face, my fist would end up in it.

  “It wasn’t her,” he said.

  “Fuck off,” I repeated. “If you care for your physical wellbeing, I would advise turning and walking out of here.”

  I wanted to hurt him. I wanted him to be in as much pain and as was and because I couldn’t cause that sort of emotional pain, I was willing to substitute it with physical.

  Gabe’s hand dug into my shoulder. The same swell of rage from earlier came rushing but I pushed it back, hissing at him through my teeth. “I’m warning you, Gable. Get your fucking hand off me.”

  “You don’t deserve her, you know. It felt good to kiss her again. Right.” He leaned close enough so I could feel his breath on my neck. “Familiar,” he whispered.

  That was it. I was going to knock his fucking block off. But before I had the chance, the sound of shattering glass blasted through from the lobby. Gabe and I locked eyes briefly, confusion and surprise passing between us before we both sprinted towards the noise.

  There was a car under the chandelier. The glass walls of the entrance to the casino were shattered and a dazed and confused Hamish opened the door of the car, looking as surprised as the rest of us to find himself in the middle of the lobby. A trickle of blood ran down his forehead and dripped over his eyelashes. He reached up and touched his head gingerly.

  Gabe ran over, taking Dad’s hand away from the wound and peering into his eyes. “Are you okay?”

  Hamish looked around the foyer, up at the chandelier, over at the elevator doors and then eventually at me. “What happened?” he asked.

  When the police arrived, he swung his arms violently, telling the ‘pigs’ to get their dirty hands off him. In the end the only way to restrain him was by handcuffs. Apparently drunk Hamish was also aggressive Hamish.

  The police led him away, curse words falling out of his mouth quicker than I thought his drunken state was capable of, and cameras flashing as the media invited to the casino opening gathered to get the scoop on the antics of the head of Thornton Industries.

  After sending someone to find Billie and calling the family lawyer, I found my seat at the bar again and resumed drinking. I didn’t have the head space to deal with this. Thoughts of Lauren consumed everything.

  Thinking felt like wading through sand. Thoughts were there. Memories were there. But they were dimly lit at the back of my mind and I struggled to bring them to the fore.

  I sat up then slumped back against the pillow when my head pounded with pain. Stupid Whiskey. I drank too much last night. The pounding in my head and the thick foul taste in my mouth were testament to that. Rolling over, I reached for Lauren only to find her side of the bed empty.

  I sat up, ignoring the parts of my body that were screaming for me to
stay still. The lights were on. The curtains framing the windows were open. I was fully dressed and lying on top of the bed, rather than in it.

  It took a while for the fog to clear and my brain to start working at its usual speed, and when it did the memories of the night before came flooding back with a vengeance. Dad being marched in handcuffs to the waiting patrol car. Flying fists and drops of blood. Gabe’s mouth on Lauren’s. Her tears as I yelled at her in front of the crowd of people.

  Fumbling through my pockets, I pulled my mobile out, checking the screen for notifications. There were none from Lauren. No missed calls. No text pleading for forgiveness. For all I knew should could be with him right now. Lying in his arms. The image of his hands roaming over her skin shot through my head like a needle. I needed to stop those thought before they drove me straight back to the bar.

  I called Sadie. “What room are you in?”

  “Tyler?” her voice was soaked with confusion. “What time is it?”

  “What room?”

  “602, grumpy arse.”

  I hung up and strode to her room, purposely trying to think of anything and everything that didn’t remind me of Lauren. Sadie answered after the third knock, bleary-eyed and dressed only in her underwear. “What’s so urgent that you had to wake me at 7am on a Sunday morning?” she asked, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

  A wave of nausea washed over me and I pushed past her and ran into the bathroom in time to empty the contents of my stomach into the toilet bowl. Sadie stood behind me, arms crossed and frowning.

  “Regretting those drinks last night, huh?” she said.

  Wiping my mouth, I sat back against the bathroom wall and looked up at her. “Where is she?” I couldn’t help it. Tears welled in my eyes and I cursed them under my breath.

  Empathy softening her stance, Sadie collapsed to the floor beside me and I rested my head on her shoulder. “Did you two not work things out last night?”

 

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