I snap, “That’s exactly my plan, Mr. Black. All those big muscles of yours are soon going to be more holey than swiss cheese.”
I ride for a moment in silence, the elevator creaking, until Liam says, “All those big muscles? Are you saying you’re impressed with my body?”
I give up. I collapse against the elevator door and gently bang my forehead on it.
“Because I have to admit, I love it when you give me compliments. Like when you told me in the hospital that I was beautiful. Do you remember that?” He sighs wistfully. “It was really touching. No one’s ever said anything remotely like it to me before.”
Without removing my forehead from the metal door, I say flatly, “I was on drugs.”
Through the speaker, his voice comes stroking soft. “I loved it. I want you to tell me that again. When I’m inside you.”
“Ha! As if! You’ll never be inside me again, pal!”
His voice drops an octave. “You want to bet?”
I start to shake with rage. My hands clenched to fists, I pull away from the door and direct my burning stare at it. If the camera is above my head, I won’t give him the satisfaction of seeing my face.
“I’m not talking to you anymore.”
“Have it your way.”
Another crackle and he’s gone.
The doors slide open on P1, but I’m right back where I was before, on the level where Liam and I first came in, the four goons staring back at me with blank expressions.
Unfuckingbelievable.
I shove my hand against the door to keep it from closing. “Where’s Declan?”
The goons look at each other. No one speaks. One of them shrugs, like, huh?
“I know you speak English. Call Declan and tell him to get his ass over here right now.”
Three of the goons look at the fourth one, who must be in charge. He’s frowning down his nose at me, but I’m so far beyond scared it must show on my face. He purses his lips, removes a cell phone from a pocket inside his suit, and hits a button. He lifts it to his ear, listens for a moment, then says something in Gaelic to whoever answered on the other end.
He nods and clicks off.
Then he slips the phone back into his pocket and stares at me.
“So? Is he coming?”
He doesn’t bat an eyelash. It’s like talking to a brick wall.
But my question is answered within moments when Declan strolls out of the shadows around a corner where a row of Escalades are parked.
He’s smoking a cigarette. Walking unhurriedly. Gazing at me with those arctic blue eyes.
The goon squad parts, making way for him as he approaches. He stops in front of me, takes a drag on his cigarette, and blows out a plume of smoke right into my face. “You rang?”
His tone is bone dry. I can’t tell if he thinks this is funny or if he’s about to snap into a rage, because his face is as unreadable as his icy eyes.
Waving a hand in front of my face, I say, “I need you to take me home.”
He lifts his eyebrows. “I thought you were smarter than that.”
“What are you, his slave?”
A ripple of tension goes through the bodyguards, but Declan remains unmoved, calmly smoking as he looks me up and down.
“More like his brother. And watch your mouth. Liam might enjoy that tart tongue of yours, but I like my women more respectful.”
“It’s a good thing I’m not yours then, isn’t it?”
He tilts his head and runs a hand thoughtfully over his jaw. Then, unexpectedly, he laughs. “Aye. Your ass would be so sore from my hand paddling it, you wouldn’t be able to walk.”
As the goons share a chuckle, blood rises in my cheeks. “I’m glad you think this is so funny. Kidnapped many women for him, have you?”
Declan’s smile fades. Tension grips his shoulders. He jerks his chin at the goons, and they melt away into the parking garage without another word.
When we’re alone, he takes a step closer to me.
“No,” he says, gazing steadily into my eyes. “I’ve never kidnapped a woman for him before. In fact, I’ve never seen him like this over a woman before, and I’ve known him more than twenty years.”
I swallow, surprised by that, and unsure what to say in response.
Declan takes another drag on his cigarette. “What, no smart comeback?”
I fold my arms over my chest and shake my head.
“Huh. She does know how to bite her tongue.”
He walks a slow circle around me, looking me up and down as he calmly smokes. When he stops in front of me again, he flicks the cigarette away, spitting out a stray piece of tobacco.
“How’d you know my name? Liam tell you?”
“No. I guessed.”
His brows shoot up.
“I overheard him on a phone call with you when I was at the hospital. Then you drove us to my place, and here, tonight. I just assumed that was you.”
His gaze is sharp and assessing. “That’s some jump.”
“But I was right.”
He narrows his eyes at me, then nods slowly. “Aye. You were.” He seems disturbed by that.
He reaches inside his black leather jacket, takes out a package of Marlboros, and shakes one out, sticking it between his lips. Then he holds the pack out to me.
“I don’t smoke.”
He puts the cigarettes away, pulls a Zippo from the front pocket of his jeans, lights his smoke, then snaps the lighter shut with a flourish. He takes a long drag, then exhales and says, “All right. You got questions. Ask ’em. I’ll answer if I can.”
That’s so unexpected I simply stare at him for a moment in surprise.
He makes an impatient gesture with his hand. “For fuck’s sake, lass. Get on with it.”
I scramble to think of the important stuff. “So Liam is Boston’s mafia boss?”
Declan snorts. “Incorrect. Liam is head of the Irish mafia. Full stop.”
When I only stare at him, not understanding, he sighs. “Okay. You’ve seen The Godfather, right?”
I nod.
“Good. You know how Pacino was the boss of all the Italian families in New York?”
I picture a bunch of gangsters in suits bending to kiss Pacino’s ring at the end of the movie when he was installed as the mob boss after his father died. “Yes.”
“And you know how Brando was Pacino’s father and the head of the entire Corleone family, both in New York and Italy?”
“Yes?”
“Take that up a hundred notches and you’ve got Liam.”
I swallow. “I’m starting to get a really bad feeling about this.”
Declan nods. “Liam oversees everyone, lass. All the families. All the operations. On both sides of the pond and all around the world. Think of it this way: the Catholic church has tens of thousands of churches, thousands of priests and bishops, a couple dozen archbishops, on top of those the cardinals, getting more and more important as you go up the ladder. And at the tippy top of that hierarchy is the pope, sitting on his golden throne.”
He pauses meaningfully.
“You’re saying Liam is the pope.”
“Aye. Minus the funny hats.”
I’ve been abducted by the mafia pope. I don’t know whether to laugh or cry.
After a while when I don’t say anything, Declan looks offended. “He won’t hurt you, if that’s what you’re worried about.”