The Devil’s Keepsake by Somme Sketcher
Poppy
Among the throng of guards, there’s a round table in the middle of Gatsby’s and nothing else. I recognize both the Tiffany lamp in the middle of it, and almost all of the men around it. Bar the two who have their backs to me.
But there’s only one man I zone in on.
“Lorcan? What’s going on?”
The hard lines of his face as he brings a large whiskey to his mouth and drains the glass in three gulps.
The way his chest sags a fraction. It makes mine explode.
Then he’s strong-jawed, back straight, hands clasped together. Staring through me.
“Lorcan— Hey!” A cold, hard shove in the small of my back makes me stumble forward. I turn around and see the henchman who escorted me from the car withdrawing the butt of his gun. Suddenly Lorcan’s on his feet, a growl ripping from his throat. Next to him, Antoin also rises with him. Not to say anything to the asshole who just hit me in the back with his gun! but to whisper something in Lorcan’s ear, all while pouring Lorcan another glass. He nods at whatever he tells him, and sinks back to his chair and gulps the drink. Then returns to staring at somewhere on the other side of my soul.
Then, Antoin turns to me. “Miss Murphy,” he says in that cool, eerie tone that he always has. It sends a shiver up my spine. “Please, take a seat.”
He gestures to the chair opposite but my legs won’t move, even if I wanted them to. What I want is for Lorcan to meet my gaze and nod. Smile—anything. Anything to reassure me that everything is okay.
I’m met with nothing but a blank stare.
The man to the right of the empty seat finally twists his body around, pinning me with a cruel smile. My heart leaps into my throat, and my legs threaten to give way. He’s old, ugly and scarred. Set deep under his wrinkled brow is a pair of haunting black eyes. Adding in the twisted grin stretched across his lips, he’s the face of nightmares. “Miss Murphy,” he rasps in a heavy accent. Immediately, I realize he’s the Russian Nova told me about. “Be a good girl and sit.”
Good girl.When it slides from Lorcan’s lips close to my ear it lights my pussy on fire. When it comes from this monster, it fills me with nausea. I glance at Lorcan, and without looking at me, he nods. Walking to the table feels like wading through syrup, but I sink down opposite Lorcan. To my right sits the Russian, to my left, is a badly-beaten man. When he turns to flash me a twisted smile, I see half of his teeth are missing.
I can’t help but think, here we go again.
Antoin slides a sheet of paper across the table and says, “Mr. Bratnov, here is your copy of the contract. I trust your lawyer has already read through it?”
His tree-trunk thigh pushes against mine under the table. When I look up to sneer at him, I see he’s pinning Lorcan with a smirk. “Summarize for us.”
Antoin clears his throat. “On receipt of one, Poppy Murphy, the long-standing treaty between the Quinn and the Bratnov institutions are null and void. New legislation is in place that will prevent the Bratnovs from crossing the Quinn territory lines, and the Quinns from crossing the Bratnov territory lines. Both of which have been pre-agreed.”
The room spins.
“You know, Mr. Quinn,” Bratnov snarls, amusement tinging his tone, “if you wanted out of the treaty, all you had to do was ask.”
Lorcan doesn’t reply.
“We just need a signature,” Antoin says.
Wordlessly, I watch as Bratnov signs the rights to my life, and the man I foolishly thought I was in love with doesn’t move a goddamn muscle.
Here we go again.
The realization sinks like a stone in my chest.
Claimed, stolen, sold. No matter how much I’ve tried to fight against the tide and change my own destiny, I’ve only ever been a debt owed. Then a keepsake. Now, a bargaining chip in the midst of a war.
I was stupid to think the man I spent four years trying to protect myself from would protect me now.
Then, Nova’s cryptic words float into my head. Don’t rely on a man to save you.
My heart rate quickens, and I feel that familiar punch of survival instinct in my gut.
Save yourself.
I’m lightning quick, lunging for the Tiffany lamp and crashing it against Bratnov’s face with a hard back-hand swing. There’s a sickening crunch, a mix of stained glass and bones breaking. I’m not listening to the angry voices or the sound of guns clicking, I just run. Even in my heeled boots, I cross the tiles in three strides. The door is so close. The streets of Boston are within touching distance. I can get away. I can be free of this cruel world I never asked to be part of in the first place.
Except, I can’t. Because there are armed men on the other side of that door. And on this side of it, identical armed men are closing in on me. A strong arm around my waist, another twisting my arm behind my back. They turn me away from freedom, forcing me to face Bratnov. His lip is bleeding, dripping down to his white shirt collar, but he’s still grinning like a maniac. He cuts through the chaos with slow, deliberate steps towards me.
My screams rip from my throat. “Leave me alone! Let me go!”
His voice is a calm contrast to mine. “You’re a feisty one, Miss Murphy,” he snarls, rubbing a fat thumb over the trickle of blood. “I like a little fire in a plaything.”
“If you touch her, the deal is off.”
Lorcan’s voice comes from over his shoulder, raw and vicious. We lock eyes, just for a second, and behind the smoldering rage, I can see the hurt.
Don’t do this to me,I want to scream at him. I’ll do anything.
But I know it’s useless. One of the reasons the Devil is so dangerous is because he does what he wants.
“Shut it, Quinn,” Bratnov snaps back. “She’s mine now.”
“Not quite. The contract needs two signatures. I haven’t signed it yet.”
Bratnov’s nostrils flare as he studies me, jaw ticking. “Very well,” he grunts. “I suppose I can play nice for a few more minutes. Need a pen?”
Antoin slams his hand against Lorcan’s chest to stop him lunging at Bratnov. He takes a few ragged breaths, then hisses, “No. But I’d like a moment to say goodbye.”
A gruff laugh escapes Bratnov. “You make me excited, Quinn. She must be good if you have become so attached to her.”
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.