Page 8 of Malevolent Hearts
It’s not in my nature to remain silent, so when a sarcastic comment dances across my tongue, I let that bitch fly. “It’s about fucking time. Didn’t your daddy teach you it’s unethical to deprive your hostages of the essentials? That’s basic Kidnapping 101.”
From a distance, I see a slight smirk kissing the corner of his mouth. “Don’t worry, snowflake. There’s no way I’d allow you to go hungry. I can barely manage normal Beibhinn. I’m in no position to unleash your hangry beast.”
“Har-har! Very funny.”
What is it about Cadden James Connelly that fucks with my head? One minute I’m all for killing the guy while he sleeps, and the next he cracks a joke making me want to smack him upside the head, and not in a murderous way. How can I hate him and love him at the same time? I don’t know the answer, but this mood shift is giving me whiplash. I can see the boy who added colour to my black heart, but then there’s this man who betrayed my trust by taking my choice away. Earlier, when he said he knew I’d go back, he wasn’t wrong, but that wasn’t for him to decide. My choice is my own. And of all people, I thought he understood that side of me.
Every step he takes is filled with purpose as he crosses the room like a predator approaching his prey. His eyes are dark, locked on mine as he balances the pizza box in one hand while carrying a bottle of my favourite wine in the other. Finally, he lowers the food onto the foot of the bed—just out of my reach.
“In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not Matilda. I can’t levitate the pizza into my mouth.”
His brow hitches, shooting me the male version of an eye roll. “Relax, Mal. All in due time.” He places the bottle of wine atop the bedside table, then drops to his hunkers and opens the small cabinet door. The distinct sound of glasses clink before he produces another bottle of his favourite whiskey—a twenty-one-year-old Redbreast—and two tumblers. “The pizza can wait,” he announces as he pushes himself to his full height. “How’s about a drink?”
With his back to me, he fills both glasses with our liquor of choice. He lifts his own and drops into the chair next to me, leaving my wine on the tabletop and out of my reach. There is a smug angle to the tilt of his lips as he draws his whiskey to his mouth, and I tamp down the urge to smash two-hundred-euro’s worth of burning amber over his head. I knew the devil had a dick, but as my luck would have it, he also is one.
When he reaches for the pizza box, he pulls out a slice for himself, and I almost lose the will to live. I bite down on my bottom lip, holding back the curse that’s doing an Irish jig on my tongue. He wants a reaction, well fuck that for a game of soldiers, he’s not getting one. At least not externally.
My eyes follow his hand as it travels towards his mouth, and I swallow back the saliva gathering on my taste-buds when his tongue peeps out, flicking the tail-end of the slice into his mouth.
With a hum of approval, he bites down before stretching the freshly baked cheese as he pulls the slice away. In my entire life, I have never had the urge to dick-punch someone so hard.
“I hope you choke on that cheese.” A scowl scrunches my features. It’s bad enough he kidnapped me, but to tease me by placing cheesy deliciousness just beyond my reach when I’m famished—that’s not only rude, it’s offensive. “Are you really going to sit there and torture me with pizza? You’re a boy genius. How can you think that’s a wise choice?”
“Don’t worry, Mal. You’ll get a slice, but first, tell me the second thing you wanted.”
It takes me a moment to pick up on what he’s throwing down, but then I recall our earlier conversation when I told him I wanted three things. “What’s the point?” I roll my eyes, uninterested in whatever game he’s playing. “You weren’t exactly forthcoming with the first question I asked.”
“Try me.”
“Fine!” I contemplate my request, pondering which of the two options I want to go with first. I should ask him to untie me, but I feel like that might be a wasted opportunity, given he has to let me use the bathroom at some point. I also need my hands to eat, so his untying me is inevitable. At least, I hope it is, because knowing Cadden, there is a good chance he’ll try to feed me instead. Then again, would he run the risk of me biting his hand off? Probably not.
After a few pondering moments, I decide it’s best to go with the least-likely scenario and keep the inevitable for a later time. So, I opt to ask him for something he wouldn’t be willing to give so freely. “I want to make a call.”
“No.” His tone is sharper than a pocketknife, making my lips curl.
“What’s the point of all this if you’re going to refuse every request?”
His shoulders drop on an exhale. “Who do you want to call?” His eyes latch onto mine, and judging from the set of his brow, he already knows the answer. It was a stupid question with an obvious response. Even still, his blatant refusal doesn’t stop me from voicing my reply.
“Liam.” If I weren’t homed in on the set of his jaw, I would have missed the slight tightness that tenses his cheeks. “I want to talk to my brother.”
His shoulders rise with a harsh intake of breath, and the set of his jaw tightens. Through gritted teeth, he bites, “Next request, Mal.”
“What’s the problem? Are you afraid I’ll call the cavalry? News flash, fiancé, I can take you myself. I only want to make sure everyone is okay.”
“That may be so, but as you so eloquently mentioned, I have a Mensa IQ,” he deflects. “I give you that phone, and within a few hours, they’ll bust you out of here, and that’s not happening.”
I don’t question the “they” he’s referring to, because he knows as well as I do Liam wouldn’t be alone, my friends would be with him.
Shifting on the bed, I try to ease the ache in my strained limbs. When I wince as the ropes tighten around my already raw ankles, Cadden’s eyes narrow. For a split second, I see him toying with the idea of removing the ropes. But he must think better of it.
Finally, when I’m as comfortable as I’m going to get, I press him further. “What’s the big deal with keeping me here anyway? We both know you’ll never hurt me, so what’s the point of all this?”
His shoulders slump with a huff. “I’ve already told you you’re safe here. And until everything dies down in Killybegs, here you shall stay.”
“Explain?”
“That explosion pissed off a lot of people from all corners of the syndicate. A war is brewing, Beibhinn. I let you leave, and you’ll be leading an army. I can’t protect you from what’s coming. But I can protect you from yourself.”