“Now, Ava, clearly you comprehend the clan name gets you anything.” His hand sweeps over the table.
“I didn’t expect . . .”
“So, what?”
“I’m not paying for this . . . monetarily or otherwise either.” I extend each word to elevate what I’ve insinuated. “Youtookme.”
Kieran climbs out of his seat again, pushing the table out of the way. With a long stride, he reaches out and catches my hair in his hand. Kieran pulls me out of the seat, and the loner at the bar hardly glances our way before sipping at his pint.
With our proximity, Kieran’s breath whispers over my forehead. “Mr. . . . Nice...Guy . . . left, lassie.”
As Kieran runs a hand over my face, a sociopathic gleam descends on his. All the air siphons from the room, and my heart turns over in my chest repeatedly.
“Maybe I haven’t made myself clear, Ava. I’m not a nice man. Although for you, I’ve attempted to be.”
“Nice? You stole me, abducted me. Where I’m from, it’s called felony kidnapping!”
Something about Kieran’s demeanor warns that his rap-sheet is from here to LA. Then I second guess the notion. Kieran is just likehim, insistingothers do his dirty work.ButKieranchoked you out, idiota. This asshole gets his hands dirty, no doubt about it.
While I scrutinize Kieran, his captivating façade assesses me too. He snarls, “First and last warning.You do not set the rules,ever. If you try, you will find yourself in grave trouble.”
“I just want to go . . .” I have no home. It was snatched away from me. Casting a tentative glance up into Kieran’s eyes, I implore, “Back to LA.”
He scoffs. A second later, the bad man I had no idea I was dealing with becomes the usual villain. He settles into the seat, laid-back, gruff, not as menacing as he was a second ago, like a snake lazily coiled in the grass ready to strike at any moment. Damn right, I feared him when he choked me. Without removing my gaze from his agile body, I reclaim my seat, arms folded over.
After a few bites of his food, Kieran inquires, “Back to LA? The man you loved is on his, what you call . . . honeymoon?”
“Yes—I mean, no! Screw him.” The vehement resistance in my tone falls into a cold deadpan. Why should I share my life story with this jackass?
Amber bubbles swish as Kieran chugs down an entire pint while holding up his index finger. I pinch a piece of sandwich and bite. The flaky, croissant bread melts in my mouth.
“Okay, not your lover,” he utters. “Proceed.”
A fragment of curiosity filters through Kieran’s persistence. What’s with this guy? Vicious assholes don’t ask questions. They’re too fixated on devious plans to pull their head from out their asses.
“You were gonna crash his wedding, aye?”
I muster a stiff, “No.”
“Oh, you’ll not be answering on your own accord. Hmmm, once we’re home, you’ll wish you had eaten every morsel of food on this table. You’ll need the energy.”
Kieran arises from the table.
Once we get home?
I’ve never felt attached to a single place since Belize. Home isn’t a place; it’s a feeling. It’s a story ofwhoweare,thingswe love. But I have felt nothing ofhomein ages.
I could ask Kieran’s plans again, but the erotic horror story is written all over his face.
* * *
Kieran’s in the samemind screwelitist boys’ club as the last asshole I was entangled with. The latter having a taste for slowly presenting his depravity while I walked the plank.
As we stroll along the edge of the otherwise quaint town, an intense silence surrounds Kieran and me. We travel back through the woods and pass a manicured garden. A palatial estate sits like a gem, surrounded by a fleet of classic luxury cars. My pace stops at the sight of a stunning set of purple wisteria. The rambling vines whisper in the wind. Kieran’s hand crushes my shoulder, strongly encouraging me to continue.
At the sight of a guard on the top step, the pitter-patter of my heartbeat hitches. The goon has one hand on the strap of an automatic rifle. With the other, he grunts in our direction and opens one of the heavy, towering doors.
Oh shit.I should’ve fought back sooner. The foyer of the home offers the bright, airy aesthetic and setting of any Jane Austen book. A silvery-haired woman with big breasts skyrockets out of her seat. I roll my eyes at how they’re all addressing him.