Chapter Sixteen
Just a Sunday Drive in the Country
Rowan
I awoke in the back seat of a car. Groggy and confused, I could barely pry my eyelids open, but then I remembered. Conor. Whatever he’d put in that syringe was potent. My eyes felt as if they were being held closed by lead weights and my mouth was as dry as a bone. I had no idea how long I’d been out, but by the way my head was pounding, my bet was at least a few hours. From my vantage point, I couldn’t see much, just the floorboards, passing trees, and Conor’s face as he stared down at me from the rearview mirror. The man had emotionless eyes. How I ever found him handsome was beyond me.
“I thought you were never going to wake up.” His accusative tone made my hackles rise. It was his fault I was asleep in the first place. When I failed to respond, he let out an angry sounding huff. I closed my eyes and inwardly smiled. Score one for me. I needed water, but I wasn’t about to ask him for it. No, what I really needed was a phone. The stop-start motion of the car led me to believe that we were in a city. As feeling began to flow back into my arms and legs, I took stock of my situation. Conor had finally found me. Not only that, but he’d drugged and kidnapped me. Panic bubbled in the pit of my stomach. We could be anywhere right now. Mallory probably thought I’d stood her up this morning. It was highly doubtful anyone knew that I was even missing. Nash’s face flashed through my mind, and I blinked back the tears. Don’t go there, I told myself, but it was too late. The bubbling panic was now at a full boil. My neck throbbed, my head was killing me, and with each jerk of the car, my stomach protested more and more. I tried to deep breathe, but that only made it worse. Finally, not able to stand it any longer, I leaned my head off the side of the seat and vomited onto the floorboard. I immediately felt better. At least now I could think straight again.
“God Dammit!” Conor’s booming voice caused my aching head to pound even more. The car lurched forward as he slammed on the brakes and turned his head around to glare at me. “A warning would have been nice,” he growled. I glared defiantly at him, and he smiled. Fear flared deep in my already churning belly. “Oh, how I’m going to enjoy breaking you, Gillian,” he crowed. I quickly dropped my eyes to the floor and tried not to vomit a second time.
Minutes later, he turned off of the main road. By then, I’d managed to push myself up into a sitting position. Disappointment rushed through me when I discovered that we weren’t in a city, but what appeared to be a wooded park. My pulse leapt into my throat when Conor pulled into the empty lot and parked the car. I held my breath as he disengaged the locks and opened his door. The acrid taste of fear stung my nose and eyes. If he was going to rape me, this would be the perfect place to do it. No one would hear me scream. He stepped from the car and I frantically searched for a place to run. To the right of us were trees, trees, and more trees. Beyond that has to be the main road.
My door opened and I jumped. Fear and adrenaline raced through my veins, cutting through the fog of the remaining sedative, and I no longer felt lethargic. My flight instinct was primed. I was ready to bolt. All I needed was an opening. Conor’s head began to lower, and I braced. He turned his nose up at the mess I’d made on his floorboard, before slowly lifted his cold eyes to mine. “Scoot over while I clean this mess up.” I quickly scooted to the passenger side. “I should make you do it,” he grumbled. My heart was now pounding ninety to nothing inside my chest.
“Don’t move,” he commanded. With a nod of my head, I waited for him to round the back of the car and open the trunk. Not yet. Once he’d retrieved whatever he was looking for, he closed the trunk. Not yet. He began to dip his head back into the car. Now! I was out the door and running.
“Help!” I screamed as I bolted in the direction of what I hoped was the nearest road. The sound of Conor’s voice echoed through the trees as he loudly cursed. I tried not to think about how terrified I was. I tried to focus on getting away and not the sound of his loafers hitting the pavement as he gained on me. I pushed myself to run faster. My lungs burned like fire as I gasped for more oxygen.
“Please, help me!” My shriek was cut short as Conor hit me from behind with a full body tackle. I went down hard and tumbled across a bed of pine needles. They felt like little knives poking into my skin, and I screamed in both anger and fear.
“Shut your fucking mouth!” Conor hissed. Like a rabid dog, he lunged for me, and I crab walked backward to get out of his reach. Right as I scrambled back to my feet, he tackled me again. This time I was pinned down by the force of his body.
“Fuck you!” I screamed at the top of my lungs. In an effortless motion, he flipped me over and slapped me with his open hand. The side of my face stung like crazy from the blow. I struggled to get air into my lungs, and tried not to cry. Finally, I just let the tears flow. “Why?” I sobbed.
“Because you’re mine,” he growled. By the time I noticed the needle in his hand, it was too late.
As my world shrank to darkness, I stared him straight in the eye, and whispered, “Never.”
The second time I awoke, it took me less time to get my bearings. Unfortunately, I knew exactly where I was. I was still in a car…still a hostage…still screwed. However, I was no longer in the back seat, but leaning against the front passenger door with my hands secured behind me and my feet tied tightly together with bungee cords.
“Nash will find you,” I whispered.
“I look forward to that day.” He sounded amused, the fucker.
Conor O” Brien was a monster. I knew this before he’d kidnapped me, but I had not fully comprehended the depths of his depravity. I now knew. The man had no conscience. Nothing I said reached him. Pleading was fruitless. He was driving a car bound for hell, and, whether I liked it or not, I was along for the ride. Classical music incongruously played on the radio as if we were out for a leisurely Sunday drive. How in the world could I get out of this? I could feel Conor’s eyes on me. Hatred like I’d never known coursed through my veins, and I welcomed it. It was fuel. It was ammunition. It was sustenance. Without it, I would be tempted to give into the despair lingering just below the surface. As the car sped along to who knows where, I tried to formulate a new plan of action. Since running turned out to be an epic failure, what if I tried reasoning with him? It couldn’t hurt.
“I was wondering when you were going to open those gorgeous eyes,” he said as if this situation was extremely normal, and I had simply risen from a nap. I turned my head in his direction and he gave me a smarmy smile. God, how I hated this man. Spitting on him would probably be a bad idea, but I really, really wanted to. Instead, I went with Plan B.
“Look, I’m sure we can work something out.” My voice sounded like it had been run through a cheese grater.
His grin widened. “Oh? What did you have in mind?”
“My father will do anything to get me back. Tell me what you want and I’m sure we can work a deal.” His laughter boomed through the car, and I tried not to cringe.
“Your father is already mine, but thanks. I needed that laugh.” If my father couldn’t help then maybe money could. The only person I knew with money was Nash. I didn’t want to use him, but what choice did I have?
“Then let me call Nash, I’m sure he would pay handsomely.” His eyes narrowed into slits and his nostrils flared with anger.
“Yes, let’s talk about Mr. Bostwick, shall we? What exactly did you do for him? And before you give me some song and dance about his dying mother, we both know it was more than that. Tell me, Gilly, did he pay you well to service him?” His lecherous eyes raked over my body. “I bet he did. After all, look at you. The black hair doesn’t suit you, but I like the curls. They make you look untamed. God!” he shouted, and I jumped as he slammed his hands against the steering wheel. “I cannot wait to tame your sweet ass into submission!” He met my glare with a smile, and I completely lost my cool.
“You’re a pig.”
“And you, my dear, are a whore.” His words stung, but not as much as they ticked me off.
“Not your whore, Thank God.” My smart ass retort earned me a back hand across the face. I screamed out in pain. Damn, that hurt.
“I can see you’ve picked up some bad habits while in Mr. Bostwick’s care. We’ll have to remedy that.” His words angered me, but they also petrified me.
“Why me?” I shouted. He raised his fist as if to strike, and I flinched back against the door.
After a long pause, he asked, “Isn’t it obvious?”
Yes! I wanted to shout. It’s obvious that you are completely and totally insane! Instead, I calmly repeated, “Why me? You could have anyone.”
“Because you are mine,” he hissed.
His eyes darted from my face to the road and back again. I stared straight into the heart of the devil and let him know exactly what I was thinking. “I will never, in a trillion years, belong to you.” A back hand was directed at my face, only, this time I was ready for it. As I ducked his blow, I threw my body across the center console, and rammed my shoulder into the steering wheel. Conor shouted as the car swerved off of the road, and I braced for impact. At the last second, he regained control of the steering wheel, and we slowed to a stop on the side of the road. I screamed at the cars passing by us, praying that someone would stop.
“Stupid bitch,” Conor hissed, and I screamed once more as the needle kissed my skin.
“Fuck you,” I whispered as the drug took me down.
I resurfaced with the knowledge of four things. Conor was talking to someone, I needed to pee, I was still bound, and it was dark outside. It took me a moment to realize that he was on the phone. Thankfully I was facing the window and not him. Otherwise, he would be able to tell I was awake.
“I need the plane, Father.” He sounded angry. Then again, he always sounded angry. “I cannot possibly wait another five days. I will be back in New York tomorrow.” After a long pause, he said, “You are vacationing, Father. This, however, is business. I have meetings in Ireland this week. You know this.” My stomach dropped at his mention of Ireland. After another pause, he said, “This is time sensitive. I cannot possibly wait for five days. I need the plane tomorrow.” A minute later, he shouted, “Fuck!” and slammed the phone against the steering wheel. My heart hammered painfully against my chest. Conor was planning to take me to Ireland. Over my dead body.
At least ten minutes passed, before the urge to pee became overwhelming. I slowly lifted my head from the window. His head jerked in my direction.
“Where are we?” I rasped through my swollen throat.
“We are five miles from a motel. Here’s what’s going to happen. I’m going to leave you in the car while I check in. If you try anything while I’m gone I will lock you in the trunk and leave you there for the night.” He wanted me to react, but I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing the fear that his words conjured in my mind. I was terrified of close spaces. Of course, I didn’t tell him this.
“I have to pee.”
“Well, it’s a good thing we’re almost there then, isn’t it?” I fought back a snarl. The longer I was in his presence, the more I hated him.
Once we reached a hole-in-the-wall looking motel, I waited for Conor to check us in. Before escorting me into our room, he unhooked the bungees from my hands and feet and threatened me again with the trunk. I made a bee-line straight for the bathroom, but he cut me off. After checking to make sure there was no easy way for me to escape, he held out his hand and waved me through.
My stomach dropped when I discovered him waiting for me outside the bathroom with the bungees in his hands. However, I was thrilled to see two beds in the room.
“I won’t go anywhere,” I lied.
“As much as I enjoy a good chase, I’m tired and need sleep,” he replied. With a sigh of frustration, I crawled onto the bed and waited as he secured my hands to the headboard and my ankles together. “Are you hungry?” he asked. Surprisingly, I was just tired. Tired and defeated.
“Not really.” My body sagged with relief when he moved to the other bed. I watched as he took off his loafers and lined them up next to the bed. Apparently the guy had some serious OCD issues.
“How long have you been after me?”
“A very long time.”
“Why?” I asked for what had to be the tenth time today. His expression turned nostalgic, and I had a sinking feeling that I wasn’t going to like his answer.
“You are even more beautiful than I remembered. I saw you in your father’s store several years ago. I approached your father, but he wasn’t ready to make a deal. So I waited. I waited until he needed me, before approaching him again. This time he couldn’t refuse.” It hurt to hear, but at least now I knew. “That night, when I finally got to be with you…to taste you, was the best night of my life, but then you ran.” His gaze seared through me. “I was forced to teach you a lesson, Gillian.” Tears filled my eyes when I realized that he was talking about Gavin. I swallowed back a hateful retort in order to get more answers.
“How did you find me?”
Conor dug in his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. Then he opened it and extracted a folded piece of paper. Once he’d unfolded it, he held it up for me to see. Maeve was in the forefront of the picture. She was holding a pan of lasagna. Nash and I were standing to the side of her. He had his arm around me and we were staring at each other.
“I was in line at the grocery store and just happened to open the magazine to this very page. I would know you anywhere, Gillian Gallagher.” His heartfelt declaration made me sick to my stomach.
I closed my eyes, and whispered, “Don’t.”
“I started following the band, but you were never there. One day, much to my surprise, I came across someone who had the answers to all of my questions. Imagine my surprise when I learned that you weren’t Gillian Gallagher, but Rowan Burns.” He said the name as if it was poison on his tongue. We weren’t getting anywhere and I was tired. So damn tired.
“Nash will find me.”
“If he does, I will kill him. I’ll make sure to let you watch when I do.” His amused tone infuriated me.
“Not if he kills you first,” I taunted.
“Shut up and go to sleep. Otherwise I will put you in the trunk.” He folded up the picture and placed it back inside his wallet. Then he turned off the light. Within minutes, he was asleep and snoring.
I lay there for what seemed like hours thinking. I thought about how much I missed Maeve. I wondered if Nash even knew that I was missing. I should have called him. I should have told him that I loved him. It was funny how scary those words were before I’d been kidnapped. Now, I would kill for the chance to say them. I thought back to the night we’d had together, and cried. I cried for the loss of an amazing woman, her wonderful son, and my heart.
Then I prayed that someone would find me.