EMILIA
Voices were coming from the other room – or at least, I thought they were. The voices sounded distant at first, but as I started to wake up, I realized that they weren't in another room. They were actually coming from right beside me. Unfamiliar men were talking around me, and as a fear-fueled adrenaline coursed through my body, I tried to sit up and my head started spinning immediately.
“I'm going to get sick,” I said, not realizing I'd said it out loud.
Someone – one of the men from the bar – put a trash can beside the bed. I leaned forward, but didn't throw up. I just sat there for a few moments, trying to recover my senses as I tried to figure out where in the hell I was and who I was with. Bits and fragments of the evening were flashing through my mind, but I felt so fuzzy-brained right then that I was having trouble grabbing one and remembering the details.
One face in my jumble mass of memories stuck out to me though – the blue-eyed stranger from the bar. The one who'd been watching me. The one who'd struck up a conversation with me when Tabitha had kicked me out of the restroom. Slowly, the fragments were beginning to coalesce and it was all coming back to me.
Somehow, the stranger had known my full name. He'd said he knew all about me. But how? I'd never met him before in my life, I was sure of it. At first, I thought he might be British because of is accent. I'd been so freaked out and anxious to get away from him that I hadn't really stopped to analyze his accent. But as I thought about it a little harder, I realized he was Irish.
And once that little nugget of information clicked in my brain, I knew why they had me. Or at least I had a pretty good idea.
“I want to speak with Deacon Murphy,” I said, looking at the men in the room.
The men laughed, obviously amused by my demands.
“Oh you do, do ya?” said one of the men. “And what do ya think ya know about Deacon, love?”
“I know he's the head of the Irish mafia,” I said quietly, trying to keep my voice even – doing my best to keep it from trembling and letting them know just how scared I was. “I know that he's the one to talk to if I want to make a deal. Not little pissants like you.”
I saw anger color both of their faces, but I tried to remain strong. Tough. Not let them see me tremble and shake. The only language cretins like this knew or responded to were threats and force. If I showed them that I was unafraid of them, I would earn a measure of respect in their eyes. The trouble was, I was downright terrified and felt like I was barely holding that in check.
“And what if Deacon doesn't want to make a deal with ya, love?” the man said, leaning down and getting in my face.
The smell of whisky and stale cigarettes saturated the air between us, causing my stomach to roil once again. I almost wished I had gotten sick in that moment so I could have thrown up on the man. That would have been amusing for me, at least.
“I'm sure he will want to make a deal with my family,” I said, looking the man in the eye. “Or else my father will kill him.”
More laughter from the two other men. They thought it was hilarious – everyone except the blue-eyed man who watched me closely. He kept his distance, standing near the door, saying nothing, and merely watched.
“What are you staring at?” I asked him, putting some real fire into my voice. “Like what you see, huh? Well you better get a good, long look now while your pretty blue eyes are still intact, because if you don't let me out of here, my father – ”
The look on his face sent a chill down my spine. A predatory grin spread across his face as he slowly shook his head. The room grew suddenly quiet, everyone stopped what they were doing as the handsome stranger walked toward me. All eyes shifted to him as the man hunkered down, putting himself at eye-level with me.
“Your father will do what, Emilia?” he asked, his voice calm and quiet. “Go on then, I'd love to hear more about your father's plans for me and my guys.”
“Your guys?” I sputtered.
He nodded slowly, his smile no less unnerving.
“You said you wanted to speak with the boss,” the guy from earlier said. “You're lookin' right at him.”
“You're Deacon Murphy?” I asked.
“One and only, love,” he said.
“Don't call me love.”
“Would you prefer that I called you the soon to be Mrs. Tony Bellini?”
I cringed at the very mention of being called Mrs. Bellini like it was an involuntary reflex. At that point, it probably was. Even in the face of the man who'd just abducted me, I wanted to be as far away from any mention of that man as I could.
“Not yet,” I snapped. “It's just Emilia, thanks. As if you actually care what I'd like to be called.”
Deacon looked amused. “Emilia it is, then,” he said. “And hopefully we can make your stay with us as pleasant as possible. There's no reason for this to be adversarial or unpleasant. But that is all going to depend on what your father – and your fiance – are willing to do. If they play ball with us, it's all good, lo – Emilia. If they don't... ”
He let the sentence trail off, the threat more than implied. A cold finger of fear slid its way down my spine and it took everything in me to suppress the shiver. I wasn't going to give them the satisfaction of seeing fear in me.
“And what exactly is it that you want them to do for you?” I asked.
Deacon stood, shaking his head. “Oh no, I'm not going to show my hand this early in the game, love,” he said. “You'll just have to wait and see. I've heard you like surprises – well, at least surprises you're not expected to marry – so, I'll just leave you in suspense a wee while longer.”
“Don't call me – ”
One of the other guys reached his hand out to slap me, but Deacon caught it before it landed on my face. With a scowl, he turned and pushed the other man back, hard, throwing him into the wall with so much force, it rattled the pictures hanging on it. I thought the frame might come down, but it somehow stayed on the wall.
Deacon looked at one of the other men – a tall, very large redheaded man – and said, “Don't you fuckin' touch her, you hear me? There better not be a hair out of place or a scratch upon her delicate little body. Not unless I say so – got it?”
The red-haired man scowled and held back, but he didn't speak again. He simply nodded and turned away from Deacon.
“Colin, please restrain her now that she's awake – ”
“Restrain me? What?” I almost shouted. “Are you afraid of a tiny little girl or something? Afraid I might get the drop on your morons here?”
“One thing I've learned is that one can never be too careful, Emmy,” Deacon said.
“Don't call me Emmy either, asshole,” I said.
Only my closest friends and family could get away with calling me that. Though, as I looked at the glint of amusement in his eyes, I had a feeling he used my nickname on purpose. It was to make a point – maybe as a way to prove he knew all about me. I glared at him, hate filling my eyes as we gazed upon each other.
“He can call you whatever the fuck he wants, sweetheart,” the man referred to as Colin said.
“Like hell he can,” I muttered, mostly to myself.
Colin reached for the restraints and started to tie me down while Deacon watched. I saw him flinch as I struggled and fought back against the man trying to tie my hands down. For a big, tough guy, he didn't like to see them getting rough with me, that was for sure. I filed it away in my mind, thinking that maybe it was a chip I could somehow cash in later. It was a weakness in him and I needed to find all of his weaknesses in order to better exploit them and improve my odds of getting out of there whole and intact.
“How long are you going to keep me here?” I asked. “What if I have to go to the bathroom or something?”
“Tell the guards,” Deacon said. “We'll get ya a bedpan.”
“Please, no – ” I begged – being forced to use a bedpan would be the ultimate form of humiliation and degredation.
For the first time, I felt real fear. I was tied down to a bed, surrounded by the enemy – and I had no idea how I was going to get out of there alive. My father would likely be looking for me, sure, but would he find me in time?
“How long do you intend to keep me here?”
“As long as is necessary, I'm afraid,” Deacon said, turning toward the door. “Hopefully your daddy and fiance cooperate quickly. If they do, you can probably be home in time for breakfast tomorrow.”
I had a feeling that whatever he wanted from my father wasn't going to be that easy. Nothing with guys like these ever was. Whatever these guys were after, my family wouldn't hand it over so easily I was afraid.
“And what if they don't cooperate?” I asked, my voice shaking.
He looked at me for a long moment, something inscrutable passing behind his eyes – something that chilled me to the very bone.
“We'll cross that bridge when we get there,” he said.