Page 8 of Merciless Wager
I had singular tastes and abnormal desires. I was a loose cannon and had been for a while. Because my name carriedcertain weight in particular places, I’d used it to party my way through high school and most of college. From the age of fifteen through twenty, I barely remembered anything. It was only when I’d been confronted with my destiny that I’d finally gotten my shit together and rounded out the last two years of school.
Since then, I’d been the model mobster, nephew, and leader. I didn’t give in to any vices except the one needed most to center me. For some, sex would do the trick, but not me. Physical relief was great in the short term, but it did little to extinguish the flame inside of me, and one that’d been fueled at such a young age.
I still remembered being ripped from my mother’s arms in the dead of the night, then tortured by a man who’d claimed to love me. My great-grandfather had been an evil man, but as I grew older, I’d come to understand him and his methods much more than I had when I’d just been an impressionable child.
The violence of the world I’d been thrust into had left its mark on me. Now, I channeled the rage that helped me survive into my fists, and I used them often to bloody those who dared to oppose me. I’d been tortured so thoroughly as a kid that I didn’t even recognize most pain anymore from the receiving end, but I got immense satisfaction in delivering it.
“I should’ve been at the club twenty minutes ago,” I said aloud to myself more than the two men nearby.
I glanced down at my watch and knew the qualifying fights had already started. By the time I finally arrived, the better fights would’ve ended, and I’d be stuck observing with the other sadists gathered there to watch the blood spill. A growl escaped me, knowing I should’ve been one of those making it happen.
“She was given the right amount of sedative,” Liam said to me.
I looked over at him and shrugged. “She’s likely a lightweight. Just my fucking luck.”
The Branningtons are no strangers to sedatives. We sometimes had traitors in the ranks over the years, who were treated the same as most enemies. If not beaten and killed on the spot, they’d be sedated, then moved somewhere to regain consciousness. Once they did, until their deaths, they’d be relegated to the same sort of torture inflicted upon me during my youth, and likely the same type that Cillian had also been subjected to during his teen years as well.
Growing up, I’d heard stories about my uncles, so it hadn’t been a surprise when Cillian had gotten drunk one night and told me the story about how he and Reagan almost never happened. No one would ever be able to tell by looking at them now that they’d suffered through any of what they had, but no one would ever look at me and think I’d been waterboarded, electrocuted, and worse during my training, either.
“She was going to call the police,” Conor added, and I let out a sharp exhale.
“We’ll need to keep her cell phone because I’m sure she probably told others she’d only be away for a few days. The last thing we need is the authorities breathing down our necks. She’ll never return to the life she once had, and we need to make that clear to her.”
“Agreed, boss. I should go and check on the girl now.”
I shook my head, then grabbed his arm to stop him. “No, let me.”
“One of our faces might be less frightening to her,” Conor said.
“As opposed to mine.” I chuckled, then wiped my expression clear of any amusement. “It’s better she meet me now rather than later.”
“Very well,” Liam said, and he stepped off to the side.
I heard Conor say something to him, but neither man would ever question a decision or order from me. They were my right-hand men, and that sort of responsibility had been born from a combination of trust and respect. It was also a result of obedience, and I knew these men would lay down on their own swords for me if I so asked them to do it.
I returned to the bedroom, only this time she had shifted. She was no longer lying on her back, but rather on her side. I moved farther into the room and circled the bed. Her long legs moved slightly, so I knew it’d only be minutes before those gorgeous blue eyes finally opened.
Once they did, I could get on with my night. Moving to the closet door, I rested against its jamb, then crossed my arms as I stared down at her. The seconds ticked by, and with every couple that did, she began to move more.
A slight groan escaped her lips until the moment I’d been waiting for arrived. Conor and Liam moved to the doorway of the room and I glanced over at them, only turning when I heard a sharp gasp.
I looked back over at her, then grinned at the terrified expression on her face. Her fear was palpable, especially when she quickly scrambled upright and crawled backward against the bedframe. From there, she turned to the door and saw the other two men, both of which were taller and bulkier than me.
“W-where am I?” she asked. “And who the hell are you?”
I smirked. “I guess you could say that I’m your keeper.”
“I don’t need a keeper,” she answered defiantly, even trying to square her shoulders in false bravado.
“Perhaps not, but consider this your lucky night because you’ve got one anyway.”
“Where is Drake?”
“Drake?” I asked aloud to my men as I turned toward them. “Do either of you know him?”
“No, boss,” they both said in unison.
“He’s looking for me. I was supposed to meet him, then I was... I went downstairs... There was a car and...” Her voice kept trailing off as she tried to formulate a complete thought. She then turned toward Liam. “You,” she spat out as she pointed at him. “It was you.”
