Page 39 of Dirty Legacy

“You can’t just leave me here.”

“I’ll be back soon.”

He releases my wrists and steps away. His eyes hold me, a strange, pleading obsession in them, before he turns his back. “You won’t ever thank me for this and I won’t deserve it. I’ve put you in more danger than you can ever know. But marrying you wasn’t the mistake.”

I rub my wrists as he stalks from the room. The doors slam shut. I count to fifty in my head, trying to steady myself, wondering what he means. Marrying me wasn’t the mistake? But does he mean fucking me then?

I bite my lip to keep from crying, storm to the doors, and try to fling them open.

Locked.

I yank hard. I slam my shoulder against them. I kick, punch, and finally, I start screaming until my throat hurts.

Connor wasn’t kidding. Nobody’s coming.

I check the windows but they’re all a huge drop and I don’t feel confident I can survive it without hurting the baby. There’s no escape in the enormous, gorgeous bathroom either, though I take a long drink from the tap. There’s no hidden hatchway in the closet, no secret path that might steal me away from this place. Only a lovely room like a gilded prison.

I throw myself onto the couch, afraid to touch the bed, and take stock of my situation.

Connor Maguire forced me into a marriage I don’t want, threatened my mother into keeping her mouth shut, and locked me in a bedroom in some creepy riverfront mansion.

All because I’m pregnant.

I don’t want to start crying again. I wipe my face, fighting against the helplessness that floods me. What kind of man could convince a Catholic priest to go along with that sham? What kind of monster would treat the mother of his future child like this?

I knew Connor was terrifying. Everyone at WashCo whispers about him, but I assumed those were all rumors.

He’s handsome and rich. He built a business from nothing and grew it into a big, profitable enterprise. I assume everyone’s only jealous of what he accomplished.

But what if they’re right?

What if when Nadia winks at me and says we’re doing some shady business… she’s not kidding?

Or when my manager once said I’d better learn how to read with my eyes closed… or when Rick sometimes grumbles about numbers not adding up right… or the overheard snippets of scared whispering in the break room.

I don’t know how long I’m alone. There’s no clock and I’m too trapped in my own head to keep track. I’m deep in a self-pity spiral when there’s a bang in the hall followed by the sound of the doors unlocking.

I have a few seconds to leap to my feet, the irrational thought that I might charge and escape jolting into my brain, only for it to immediately fizzle as Connor enters followed by two more massive men in dark suits.

My husband steps aside, sweeping a hand toward me. The older of the newcomers pauses just in through the doors, his face twisted in an expression caught between rage and dismay.

The younger one throws back his head and laughs. “Holy fuck, Connor, I thought you were kidding! But there’s seriously a girl here!”

“My wife, asshole. You will respect her.”

“I don’t even know her name. Jesus Christ.” He wipes his eyes, grinning at me. “Hello there, Mrs. Maguire. My name’s Marcus. I’ve known your husband since long before he became the charmer he is now.”

“Uh… hello? I’m sorry, but who are these people?” I look at Connor for help.

He gestures at the pair. “Marcus is a close friend and top lieutenant. And the quiet angry one is Deck, my cousin, also a top lieutenant.”

“Nice to meet you two?” I rub my hands together like I’m trying to get feeling back in them. What would they do if I started begging? Pleading for them to let me go? Nothing, most likely. A pit opens in my guts. “But what do you mean, they’re your lieutenants?”

“She doesn’t know,” Deck rumbles. He’s a pitted, scarred, brutal-looking man, older than Connor, even more muscular, like a pit bull on steroids. He’s a few inches shorter, but he makes up for that in sheer raw power. His hair’s buzzed short and the suit fits him like sneakers on a pigeon.

“No, she doesn’t know anything,” Connor confirms firmly. “And you both will keep your mouths shut until we’ve spoken. I only brought you here so you understand I’m not joking around.”

“I fucking wish you were. The Gallaghers are going to lose their minds.” Deck throws his hands in the air. “Not to mention the Whelans. My God, Connor, you’ve started a war.”