This placed is packed and my muscles are wound so tight, a light breeze could make me snap. She doesn’t need to be here and the fact that I’m behind this fucking bar when I should be close to her, protecting her, is eating at me. Just like every other man in the room, it’s impossible to keep my eyes off her.
“Declan. DECLAN!”
“What?” I snap, pulling my attention from thoughts of Teagan as I look up to a smiling Wendy.
“Hook, line and sinker man.” Her knowing smile grows. “I’ve only repeated the same drink order to you four times. You haven’t peeled your eyes from her every move, the entire night. I was beginning to think I would never see the day.”
“Am I that obvious?” I let out a depreciating laugh, rubbing my hand over the back of my neck.
“I think its adorable. But do me a favor, she’s a good person, Declan. Don’t hurt her.”
“I’m here to make sure no one ever does again.” My tone takes on an icy chill, reflecting the sudden change in my mood.
“Good. I’d hate to see the damage my Louisville Slugger could do to that beautiful Jeep of yours. Now, how ‘bout those drinks?” She gives me a wink. With Wendy, it’s never an empty threat.
Placing the last drink on Wendy’s tray, my eyes seek out the only person on my mind. I can feel my pulse tick in my veins when my sight comes back empty. No sign of Teagan. Warning bells are going off inside me and my head feels like a distressed ship being eaten by the sea.
Bulldozing my way through the crowd, I turn toward the bar. My face must say it all because Wendy addresses me before I get the chance to speak.
“She’s in the stockroom, Caveman,” she says, waving her thumb behind her in the direction of the back room.
Good. At least we will have somewhere private to talk.
Making my way to the back, I focus on the things I need her to hear. Her safety is my number one concern. If protecting her means she’s got to be pissed at me, then so be it. I can live with her hating me. What I can’t live with is her going anywhere with that sick fuck. Or worse. My stomach churns as the stories from her past move to the forefront of my mind. That is not an option.
I’ve thought about the things I need her to hear. What about the things I’m not ready to say?
That thought is halted as my world tilts on its axis. One look and I know my life will never be the same.
Rage unlike any I have felt before warms my body. Fury burns in my chest. Like a dragon, I feel like I could breathe fire, ready to burn this town to the ground until I find her.
I’ve been trained for moments like this. Get your shit together O’Connor. Trying in vain to compartmentalize my emotions, I assess the room. Time is the most important factor. Aside from the busted case of beer, I see no signs of a struggle. She wouldn’t go willingly. Not my girl.
Faint boot prints made possible by the beer fade in the direction of the side door. Only one set of prints. He either knocked her unconscious or he drugged her. The implications blur the line between my emotions and my trained abilities.
“FUCK!” My voice roars and my brain finally tells my legs to move. I vaguely register Nate running behind me as my feet hit the pavement just outside the door. Frantically searching for any sign of movement, any clue, just… anything. But I’m too late. He’s taken her, and I let him. I failed to do the one thing I promised her.
I fall to my knees in a moment of disbelief, stones of despair beating me until I can no longer stand. How could I let this happen?
“What the hell man? What’s going on with you?” Nate stands a few feet back, unsure of how to approach me.
“He fucking took her.” My head hangs from my shoulders, unfamiliar with the emotions coursing through me.
“Who took who?”
His confusion unwittingly manages to break the shower of desperation. None of these people know who she really is. Who I am. Pulling out my phone, I dial the only person in this world I can trust.
“This better be good.” His voice comes through the line with a bite.
“He fucking got her. She’s fucking gone man!”
“Shit! Meet me at the office in ten. And Declan, we need to tell Ramos.” The only time he calls me Declan is when I need a brother, not a partner.
“My cover is probably blown to shit.” My hand mindlessly worries the stubble that covers my cheek. “He’s going to have my ass. If I don’t end up in prison when this is all over.”
“I think you underestimate him, man.”
With that, I end the call feeling more determined than I ever have. It beats the fuck out of the helplessness I allowed myself to feel just a few minutes ago. It’s time to call in the Calvary.
“I don’t have any idea what’s going on and I really don’t give a shit who you are, but I want to do what I can to help get Taryn back. She’s important to all of us.” I turn to see Nate’s eyes narrowed on me. Wendy stands just to the side of him, a hand thrown over her mouth in disbelief.
“Who I am doesn’t matter and she’s going to die if I don’t get to her.”
Wendy’s gasp carries in the thick night air.
“If you want to help, stay here and look for any clues about how he got in and where he took her. Question every single person in that bar if you have to!” Throwing my arm out and pointing to the building, my voice continues to rise with each word.
“On it,” Nate responds before he and Wendy bolt through the door.
I’ve only experienced this kind of gut-wrenching anguish once in my life. I was blinded by rage when I took the breath from my mother’s murderer. As a grown man, I still feel that rage in my bones. The rage I feel coursing through my system, the one feeding my soul, isn’t blinding. I can see crystal fucking clear and Mark Langford should be very fucking afraid.
Pain throbs deep in the back of my head. I can’t even muster the strength to open my eyes. My right arm is numb from the position I’m lying in. Why can’t I move? Using what senses I can, I try to piece together where I am and how I got here. The ground beneath me is hard and cold against my skin and the air is thick. The smell of rotting fish wafts through the air.
As my senses slowly come back to me, I heave, reflexively gagging on the odor. Panic fires up every nerve ending, forcing my eyes to open. Fighting to move is useless, my arms and legs are bound tight. My skin is raw and burned from the rope.
Where am I? What happened?
Confusion feeds my panic. Looking around, I try my hardest to assess the situation. The room is small, with an old, rusted metal desk on the other side of the room. A single chair missing an arm rest lays upside down a few feet from me. The midday sun shines through the dirty, broken window high on the wall, illuminating the layers of dust that coat everything in sight. The floor, ceiling, and walls are all concrete. Curling into myself as best I can, I shiver. The movement causes pain to radiate from my neck and suddenly, everything comes rushing back.
The stockroom.
The pain.
Mark.
My blood runs cold as I remember exactly what happened. That asshole drugged me!
As if my thoughts could conjure the monster himself, Mark comes through the door, in his ever-present designer suit.
“Ahh, you’re awake. Good to see that you are coherent so early after a dose that large.”
Calmly—too calmly—he picks the chair up off the floor and places it in front of the desk, facing me, before taking a seat. I don’t know if he’s waiting for me to answer or not, but his pause is unsettling. I don’t trust myself to speak just yet. I’m scared and angry, neither emotion I want to show him.
“Why do you always insist on pissing me off? It hurts me every time I have to punish you for your behavior.” He’s always treated me like a petulant child. “After that stunt you pulled shooting me, father wanted you dead. Lucky for you, I convinced him that was too conspicuous. He has too much at stake to risk it all over a cunt like you, so he pressed charges. Decided it was best to let the media run off with it.”
He smiles, taking in the slight confusion on my face.
“You thought father adored you? That’s cute. He’s a politician, sweetie. He’s a professional liar and you are too ignorant to notice when someone makes fun of you. He tolerated you because you’re mine.”
Finding my voice, I question the one factor in this story that doesn’t make sense.
“Then why am I not in handcuffs?” My voice is low and steady.
“Darling, don’t you understand? I am your husband; therefore, you are mine to punish. No one else touches what is mine. I believe you’ve met my friend Lee, the new security guard at that disgusting bar. Lee is actually FBI. Let’s just say he owed me a favor. He’s been keeping tabs on you and slowing the investigation from the beginning.”
My mind struggles to piece together all that he has told me. Mark is far more unstable than I thought. And smart. The two make a terrifying combination.
“Did you really think I wouldn’t find you? Ignorant girl.” His tone is placating. He’s mocking me.
I have nothing to say. I really am a fool. A mistake I won’t be making again.
“You know, I’ve never let you in on the family business,” he says, standing to remove his jacket.
Family business? Politics?
Pulling a small baggie and straw from his pant pocket, he sits back down, looking at the desk in disgust. Pulling a handkerchief from his jacket pocket, he wipes a small section of the desk top. The baggie has a white powdery substance in it, one I can only assume to be cocaine or heroin. The Mark I know is ruthless, on top of the world… but drugs have made him a monster.
He continues working as though I’m not even in the room. Dumping a decent amount of the powder onto the desk, he gathers it into a line before putting his nose to the small black straw and inhaling, snorting up every bit and rubbing his nose frantically.
“You see, you don’t have the kind of family money we have just by going to law school or politics. No, no. You earn it by controlling both sides of the coin.”
Turning his attention back toward me, he starts to roll the sleeves of his perfectly pressed shirt before he continues his tirade.
“We control the largest cocaine import in the state, completely anonymously. By controlling state law, we give the people the face they want to see, and we get to make millions. It’s a brilliant system. Father lectured me about never using the vile stuff. But how do you think I made it through law school?” He chuckles.
His eyes meet mine, and any laughter on his face is wiped away.
The transformation begins. It is something I’ve witnessed many times before I left Oklahoma. The high starts to claim him as his eyes glaze over. His demeanor changes and he’s agitated almost instantaneously.
“Why couldn’t you just be fucking happy?!” He spits. “I gave you everything! A nice house, clothes, cars, the life all women want!” He stands, slamming his fists down on the desk. The old metal creaks from the force and I think it might break.
“And this is how you repay me? By fucking the first guy you meet? You’re nothing but a dirty whore!”
He moves faster than I anticipate, and his hand comes down hard on my face. My head bounces on the unforgiving floor, causing my head to swim.
Moments like this are rare in life. The ones that force us to make a choice. To show the person whom we truly are.
This is my moment.
I am no longer that scared little girl, the forgotten teen, or the naïve young woman desperate for love.
I am a fighter.