Redemption and Regrets (Chastity Falls, #4) (17 page)

Back pressed against the outside of the house, I inched along the balcony until I lined up with the oak tree. Its branches had been cut back, but if I leaned over the balcony enough, I could still get a good grip with my hands. Without looking down, I carefully moved to the balcony rail and laid my hands flat down on the alabaster. Using the pillars for leverage, I hoisted myself up and over so that my body was now on the other side of the balcony. Testing my foothold, I twisted my body out and, with one hand gripping the rail, extended the other to the thickest branch. Confident I had a secure hold, I flung the rest of my body onto the thick branch. My heart leaped into my mouth, just as it did every time I escaped, but my lithe body made easy work of climbing down the tree until my feet were safely on the ground. I dusted myself off, glanced around the yard to check the coast remained clear, and started jogging.

Our house sat on one acre of land on the outskirts of Montlake and Washington Park. The huge oak trees bordered the perimeter of the yard, creating a living wall, although Daddy had installed extra fencing when we moved out here to keep out any threats. As a young child, I would play for hours in the yard, daring myself to leave the perimeter and explore the edge of the woods. I knew every route, path, and shortcut, and before long, the slow burn in my calves had replaced the sick feeling in my stomach.

Doubling back, I followed the path up to the house. I could have only been gone for forty minutes, but in that time, more men had arrived at the house. I slowed to a walk, watching as two men disappeared into Daddy's workspace, a small building attached to the back of the house. A few minutes later, they returned laughing and joking. Growing up in the shadow of my father's business, I was used to strange coming and goings, but instinct told me to keep watching.

I ducked behind a tree trunk just in time as Jason approached the men and nodded to the door. An open lock hung from the steel bolt, and a strange sensation started to carve itself out in my stomach. I hadn't thought to ask Jason where they were taking Braiden. I just assumed they would take him to some undisclosed location Daddy's men used to extract information from eyewitnesses, rats, or unwilling associates.
But what if ... No.
I pushed down the thought. My father wouldn't bring me here if Braiden were here. For all he knew, Braiden was the risk Jason had warned him about. It made no sense to bring me here, to the supposed danger.
Unless ... They don't intend to keep him around for long.

My stomach churned as I watched Jason clench and unclench his fists, rage burning in his eyes. He disappeared through the door and one of the men closed it and latched the lock. I’d seen that look before when Braiden had crashed into my dorm room. Jason hated Braiden with a fiery passion. He wanted to hurt him. Probably even kill him.

And I was pretty sure he’d just entered the room where Braiden was held captive.

~ Braiden ~

B
lood sprayed into the air. That’s going to sting tomorrow. If I made it to tomorrow, that was.

"Just tell me what you know," Jason demanded as his fist impacted my stomach again. He was good; I had to give him that. He didn't concentrate his jabs in any one place. Instead, he moved around my body and face. A right hook to the eye. One to my kidneys. But never the same place twice. I didn't know if O'Connor had instructed him to work me over good, or if he was out here without orders and trying to cover his tracks by not going to town too much on my face. Didn't really matter. It hurt like a motherfucker every time he came at me, and at this rate, it wouldn’t be long until I passed out from the pain.

"You can make all of this go away, Donohue. Just tell me what you know."

It took all my strength to lift my head and make eye contact with him. I drew him in, let him think I had something to fess up, and then I laughed in his face. It earned me another blow to the stomach, and I stumbled backward into the chair.

"We know you spent time with Jack Doyle. You must know something." His voice shook with rage. How he kept a leash on his beast was beyond me because the dude was one hundred percent certifiable.

"I'd rather die than give you anything. Get me, O'Connor," I said choking back the urge to puke. That last blow must have hit something vital, an organ or something, because I felt split in two with pain.

"Not ye-"

The door opened and light poured in, burning my eyes.

"Time's up, boss's orders," a voice said.

Jason grunted clearly pissed our time together was over.

"Looks like this is goodbye." I spat out another mouthful of blood earning a snigger from Jason. "I'll be back. We're just getting starting, Donohue. Don’t go anywhere. Just think while you’re in here, I’ll be cozying up to Cara, comforting her." He winked and turned away from me disappearing into the light. I craned my head into the stream of warmth, fists clenched straining against the rope. I wanted to do him some damage, to wipe that smirk right of his face, but all too soon the door closed and I was left alone in the darkness once more.

~

I
'd found myself in some pretty shitty situations in my life, but nothing topped being beaten and bloody in a pitch black room. My body sat limply on the chair, heat radiating through my lower abdomen and across my eyebrow where I was pretty sure Jason had widened the gash caused by his gun. My eyes were heavy with the tug of sleep ... Or unconsciousness.

Everything was a little blurry.

Her face flickered in and out of my head. Short blond waves brushing my face as she stared down at me, pressing her lips to mine. Anger still burned through me at the thought of Cara's betrayal, but she was burrowed in my heart so far that I couldn't just switch off my feelings.

Seconds ticked by or it could have been hours, and then the door opened again. A small flashlight beam danced around the room landing on my face, and I heard her gasp. "Oh, my God." Cara stepped into the room and closed the door behind her. My eyes locked on the sight of her and I racked my brain for some sign this was real and not some sick fantasy my pain-ridden body had dreamed up to ease some of the hurt.

I got my answer when she reached out and palmed my cheek. "What have they done to you?"

Cara dropped down in front of me placing the flashlight next to her. It cast a dim shadow around the room, and I could just make out her face, drinking in her soft features.

"Tell me what to do." Her voice cracked.

"Water." I flicked my head to the bottle of water on one of the empty racking shelves.

She retrieved the bottle and opened the cap holding it up for me, but I snatched it away from her. My hands were still bound, but I wasn't fucking incapable of drinking some water.

"Shit, tell me what to do, Braiden." She applied enough pressure to my cheek to force me to look at her. Our eyes connected, and for a second, I let myself drown in her. This blond whirlwind who had barreled her way into my cold heart. But the moment passed and I hissed, "I think you've already done enough."

She reared back onto her ankles, confusion written all over her face. "Wha- what? You think I ... You really think it was m-"

"Save it." I cut her dead. "I have bigger things on my mind right now." My voice was stilted, thick with pain.

"But, but, Braiden, it wasn't me-" Her voice cracked and I saw the shimmer of water in her eyes.

Silence enveloped us and I drew her in with my gaze until she shuffled closer. My head dropped forward and I pressed my bloody forehead to hers letting myself find a sliver of comfort in her presence. Cara responded, sighing softly as if she thought I was having second thoughts about her betrayal.

"You shouldn't be here, Cara." I pulled back a fraction. She needed to understand what I was about to say to her. "Don't come back. We're done. We. Are. Done." I tipped my head back breaking our connection. It was too much for her to be in here, looking at me as if she wanted to fix me.

Fix us.

It was all lies. For all I knew, Jason had probably sent her in here to try to trick the truth out of me.

I didn’t watch as Cara left the room, taking the flashlight with her. We were done, and pretty soon, I was sure I’d be done too. I didn’t have what O’Connor wanted, and as soon as he realized that, I was dead.

~

“U
p,” a gruff voice said from the shadows. I must have dozed off because one minute, Cara had been here, and the next, two guys appeared in the doorway. One flicked a switch plunging the room into an eerie glow and I almost breathed a sigh of relief when I realized neither were Jason. At least, these two might stick to O’Connor’s orders and go easy on me. I tried to push off the chair, but fatigue and dehydration made it difficult.

“Grab him, Oz.” One guy wrestled me out of the chair yanking my bound arms while the other stood in front of me.

“Boss wants to know if you’re ready to talk yet?”

“Like I said to your friend, I don’t know anything. I met Jack Doy-”

Crack.
His fist collided with my cheek, and I cursed into the air while the other guy tightened his grip on me. “This all goes away if you just cooperate, Donohue.”

Squeezing my eye shut, I waited for any signs that he’d done more than just bruise my skin. It stung like a bitch, but my eye seemed fine. With a slight shake of my head, I met his stare and said slowly, “I don’t know shit.”

“Wrong answer.” He balled his fist up and sent it flying into my stomach. The other guy held me while my body lurched as it protested. My cheek burned, and my insides felt like Jell-O, but I had to wait it out.

“O’Connor, I want to talk to O’Connor,” my voice croaked.

“Not happening, Donohue. Not until you give us something.”

It would have been so easy to lie—to tell them what they wanted to hear. But all I knew was what they already knew; Doyle and his associates were looking to move against O’Connor. I could name the guys I’d met at The Cave, sure, but O’Connor was more clued up than Doyle gave him credit for. He wanted the finer details—dates, times, that kind of thing. All stuff I knew nothing about.
Because they didn’t trust you with it.

The guy continued his routine. He asked me more questions, I gave him my answers, and he dished out more punishment. Eventually, after smearing his bloodied knuckles over his t-shirt, they left.

I drifted in and out of sleep. At some point, I’d slipped off the chair and crumpled into a broken heap, but I had managed to drag my body over to the wall like a wounded animal seeking shelter. No longer able to tell what hurt and what didn’t, I reveled in the silence. Maybe I was going mad. Maybe this was all part of O’Connor’s routine to break someone—get them to talk—but I was past caring. I couldn’t even remember why I’d thought it was a good idea to comply instead of trying to fight my way out. Maybe I was crazy.

When the door opened again, my weeping wounds had dried to a sticky mess. My shirt stuck to my body with sweat, and my eye was almost swelled shut. I expected to see Jason again. Or even O’Connor. Maybe they were coming to finish the job. Part of me hoped it was, and when I looked up, I didn’t expect to find a beautiful woman with Cara’s smile standing over me illuminated by an amber glow, like a fucking golden angel.

“Can you move?”

A bitter laugh bubbled up in me and I said, “Lady, do I look like I can move?”

“Let me help you to the chair.” She leaned down and hooked her arm underneath one of my arms and around my back. She was surprisingly strong, and with her help, I managed to get to my feet and shuffle back over to the chair. My whole body screamed with pain. I needed food and water and a hot fucking shower and a bucket full of Advil, but I doubted she was the fairy godmother coming to grant any of my wishes.

I watched her through my good eye as she dragged another chair to the middle of the room and sat down in front of me. Cara’s mother was every bit a guy’s wet dream. The skintight pantsuit that covered her lean body put her closer to thirty than the mid-forties she probably had to be. And where Cara kept her hair short, she wore it longer, hints of blond fading into caramel and auburn waves that fell over her shoulders.

“I’m Annie O’Connor.”

“Figured as much.” The words came out hoarse, and I coughed trying to clear my throat.

“Here.” Annie held out a bottle of water, but my wrists were asleep from being restrained for hours and hours, and I couldn’t get a good enough grip to take the bottle. Annie shuffled forward on her chair and unscrewed the cap, tipping the bottle to my greedy lips. How fucking embarrassing. The mother of the girl that had shredded my heart into a million pieces, wife to the man who wanted me dead, was feeding me water.

After I had chugged down as much liquid as my stomach could stand, I pulled away and rubbed my wet chin against my shoulder. “Thanks, I guess.”

“Let me tend to your wounds?”

She was asking my permission. Was she for real? Didn’t she realize it was thanks to her husband that I was here in the first place? Hell, thanks to him, my life was just one big fucking mess.