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The restaurant is silent apart from Lorcan’s heavy footsteps crossing the mosaic tiles. He slides into the small space between me and Bratnov and stares down at me. “Let go of her,” he snarls out the corner of his mouth to the two henchmen holding me back. They do at once.
I feel so heartbroken I could sob. Without warning, Lorcan grabs the back of my head and pulls it towards his, crushing his mouth against mine. I tried to pull away, but his grip is relentless. He forces my lips open and slides his tongue into my mouth. He tastes like betrayal and a whole bottle of whiskey. And—metal.
“Ugh—” I try to wriggle away from him, from the foreign object he slides into my mouth, but he doesn’t let me. When he finally lets me go, he pins me with a stern glare, a million pleads in his eyes. Without a word, I move it under my tongue and keep my head down, hoping Bratnov didn’t see.
“That’s enough, Quinn,” Bratnov says icily. “I didn’t agree to damaged goods.”
“My apologies,” Lorcan hisses back in a tone that suggests he’s anything but sorry.
He searches my face for the last time, and suddenly, it clicks. This is exactly how he was looking at me the other day, studying all of my features like he was trying to etch them into his long-term memory.
He was planning this, even then. The realization and the metallic taste in my mouth are making me feel nauseous.
“Enough,” Bratnov snaps. Then he nods toward the men in the camouflage uniforms. Clearly, they belong to him because they instantly spring into action; two grabbing my arms and another opening the restaurant door. They march me through it, and I twist around to see Lorcan one last time, but all I see is the back of his head as he strides into an adjoining room.
Bratnov’s men put clunky handcuffs on me and throw me into the back of a waiting SUV, shoving me across the leather seat until I slam against the window on the other side. In the split second I’m alone in the car, I spit out the metal object from under my tongue into my lap. A key.
Quickly, I stuff it into my bra and try to stop myself from trembling
In the restaurant, I guess I always held onto the tiny shred of hope that this was all a misunderstanding and Lorcan would save me. But now he’s nowhere in sight and I’m surrounded by strange men barking over my head in Russian. The panic is overwhelming.
Nova’s voice pops back into my head again.You know what’s like kryptonite to a man? Whining.
No harm in trying.
The scream that rips from me is blood-curling. I thrash my legs and arms about, kicking the back of the driver’s seat. The door slides open and Bratnov dives in. He hisses in my face. “Shut the fuck up, Murphy.” Then, he grabs my cheeks and slams my head against the window.
The sight of the blood trickling down his chin is the last thing I see before I black out.
Lorcan
“This was a mistake,” I growl, sweeping everything left on the dining table to the floor in one swift motion. Then I drive my heel into one of the chairs. It skids across the tiles and narrowly misses one of the three henchmen still guarding the restaurant from the inside.
“Lorcan, we need you to focus,” Angelo says, placing a firm hand on my shoulder. “The plan is foolproof, you need to remember that.”
I shake him off and something between a snarl and a howl escapes my lips. Yeah, the great fucking plan.
When Antoin said Bratnov wanted Poppy, I bust his lip open with a swift punch in the mouth. As he wiped away the blood, I said if he ever mentioned her name in the same breath as his again, he’d lose more than a few teeth. But somewhere between night and day, he managed to convince me of the plan.
We’d use Poppy as bait.
Let him think that we agreed to his conditions. Draw up a contract, sign on the fucking dotted line. But he’d be suspicious right up until he had her in his filthy clutches, which is why we had to let him leave the restaurant with her. Angelo might think the plan is foolproof, but it still relies on two important factors.
Miguel’s stalking skills being as sharp as a knife, and the Bratnovs letting their guard down now they think the war is over.
My heart is slamming against my chest and I need something strong to drown it out. I take out the hip flask from my breast pocket and gulp.
I’ll burn the city down to get my China Doll back.
Antoin’s cell buzzes. He brings it to his ear and turns away from me. “Miguel. Okay. Coordinate with Donnacha.”
“What did he say?” I snap, crossing the tiles and getting in his face.
I hate that he’s so much fucking calmer than me. “The tracker he put on Bratnov’s SUV is live. They are moving west towards Route One. I’m coordinating with Donnacha and the team now.”
Rodrigo Mondez smooths down the breast of his suit and shakes his head. “Taking her back to New York City? Seems too obvious.”
I agree.
