Illicit Captor by Maggie Cole

1

Scarlet O'Leary Ahern

Warmth fills me, giving me the illusion I'm dreaming. For too long, coldness dug into my bones. The scent of cedarwood mixes with a light musk. I turn on my side, snuggle into the comfort of the mattress, hug the pillow tighter, then freeze.

Why am I in a warm bed?

Why is there a pillow?

Tommy only lets me in bed when he has his way with me and then he locks me back in the dark room.

My pulse skyrockets. I try to open my eyes, but my lids feel heavy.

"Easy," a deep voice murmurs, and what feels like a hand strokes my cheek.

My heart races faster. I force my eyes to open, but my blurred vision panics me further. My lungs constrict to the point I can barely take in any oxygen. I blink harder, and tears fill my eyes.

Am I blind? Did Tommy do something to my eyes like he's always threatening?

Fingers swipe at my tears, declaring, "It'll take a few minutes for the fuzziness to go away. Everything will be all right. I promise."

He promises?

I'm unsure if I should believe him or not. I try to sit up, but he holds me down.

He warns, "Don't move too fast. If ya do, your head will pound so hard you'll get nauseous. It's a side effect of the drug."

Drug?

More anxiety expands in my chest. The fuzziness in my vision clears slightly, but all I can make out of the man in front of me is his white T-shirt, chestnut hair, and large frame.

"Wh—" I barely manage a whisper, and a pain shoots through my throat.

A glass comes to my lips. The man says, "Have a few sips of water. But go slow."

I don't question it. My dry mouth could compete with a desert. I swallow a few sips and want more, but he limits my intake. He pulls the glass away and states, "Ya can have more in an hour. I don't want ya vomiting."

I blink again, and his sharp features come into focus. My confusion continues, and nervous butterflies fill my stomach.

Why is he being nice to me?

He drugged me.

Why does he look familiar?

He's one of Tommy's men.

I grip the blankets tighter, as if they could somehow protect me.

When will he put me back in the cold room?

He puts his hand back on my cheek.

I jerk my head backward, but it can't move very far. My insides quiver.

"It's okay. I won't hurt ya," he repeats. He slides his thumb over my jaw. It's gentle and warm, something I haven't experienced since before my da forced me to marry Tommy, yet I don't trust this stranger.

A flashback of my wedding day hits me. I close my eyes, trying to stop the barrage of emotions hammering me, but I can't.

Tommy's leering at me, waiting for me to say, I do. I can't form the words. No matter what my father ordered me to do, I can't make that vow.

Too much time passes. Tommy orders through gritted teeth, "Say it."

I shake my head. "I-I can't. I-I won't!"

Da jumps out of his seat. He's the only other person besides the priest in the room. He steps in front of us and declares, "She does. Move along."

I argue, "What? No! I don't!"

Da seethes, "Who's head of the clan?"

I swallow hard. My lip quivers and I struggle not to cry. One thing Da hates is tears.

"Who?" he barks.

"Ya," I answer, my stomach diving.

He points to the priest, snarling, "As I stated. Move forward."

The priest nods, asking Tommy the same questions. Tommy agrees, and the next thing I know, it's over, and he's dragging me out of Da's house.

"Don't cry. I promise you're safe. Your sister sent me to rescue ya," the stranger states again, tearing me out of my trip down memory lane. I want to block that time out forever.

I sniffle, then force myself to look at him.

My vision clears. He comes into full view, and my butterflies intensify, but I'm no longer sure they're based on fear.

Maybe I've had to look at Tommy for so long that anyone who doesn't reek of tobacco, have an age-spotted, half-bald head, isn't thirty-plus years older than me, or look like a monster, seems appealing. But the butterflies intensify, and a feeling between my legs I haven't ever felt before ignites.

I squeeze my thighs together, happy the blanket covers me, as I stare at the stranger. My pulse beats harder as I study him.

His nose is slightly crooked, and I wonder how many times he's broken it. His thick, wavy chestnut hair looks disheveled. His matching goatee needs a trim, but it isn't too long. Deep brown eyes scream danger, yet there's also another thing I haven't seen since before my wedding day.

He seems concerned about me. Still, I'm not letting my guard down. I don't know this man. And from my experience, men shouldn't be trusted.

My gaze drifts to his thick, chapped lips, and my heart pitter-patters harder.

He shifts his large frame on the bed, pulling me out of my trance over his features.

How tall is he?

Way taller than Tommy.

He can crush me with one move.

I tighten my grip on the covers, not liking the mixed signals my body gives me over my rationale.

Why does he say he knows Alaina?

He must be one of my father's men if he knows her!

More fear attacks me. I blurt out, "Who are ya?"

"My name's Aidan." His gruff voice sends tingles down my spine.

I try to sit up again. A rush of blood hits my brain, fogging up my vision.

He places his palm on my chest again, making my tingles throb faster. He orders, "Ya need to lie flat for a bit longer. The drug needs time to wear off."

"Drug!" I exclaim and try to rise again.

He arches his eyebrows, holding me firm to the mattress. Something passes in his dark expression. I think it's guilt, but surely I'm wrong? He declares, "I gave ya a choice. We had to leave. Ya were too distraught."

Think!

I struggle but finally remember cowering in the corner of my room and him holding a blanket toward me.

Tommy's going to kill me.

I swallow hard, barely getting out, "Take me back."

He jerks his head backward. It's slight, but I don't miss it. "Take ya back?"

My mouth turns drier. Tommy's vile eyes light up in my mind. I find my voice, demanding, "Take me back before my husband finds out."

Aidan's eyes turn to slits. "Ya don't have to worry about him ever again."

"M-my husband will kill ya. He'll... He'll kill me! Take me back," I shriek, trying to sit again, but Aidan's palm holds me firm.

He seethes, "He's not killing either of us."

"He will!" I insist.

Aidan inhales deeply and snarls, "Scarlet, I can assure ya that the only one dying will be Tommy. Now stop trying to sit up."

I freeze, trying to comprehend this situation, but I can't. No one is more powerful than Tommy, except my da.

More anxiety riddles me. I assert, "You've gone against my da and husband. They'll be hunting ya down. Wh-why would ya do such a thing?"

He snorts as if my da and Tommy are no one to scare him. I don't understand it. Everyone I know fears them. He claims, "They don't know I took ya. At least, not yet."

I inhale sharply.

Aidan assesses me, and my cheeks heat while my confusion grows. I want him to look away, but I also want to stare at him forever, unraveling the mystery of whoever this man is who had the guts to defy my father and husband.

I blurt out, "Ya know what happens when an O'Leary defies my da."

A deep hatred fills his expression. He scowls, announcing, "I'm not an O'Leary," as if trying to control his delivery.

Not...I try to sit up again, making my head pound harder.

"Ya aren't listening. Stop moving so abruptly," he states, putting both hands on my shoulders, his face six inches from mine.

Cedarwood and a light musk flare in my nostrils, oddly calming and stirring the sensations between my thighs.

His chest rises and falls faster. He licks his lips, staring at mine for a moment so brief I wonder if I imagined it.

"Who are ya if ya aren't an O'Leary?" I ask.

He hesitates, then answers, "I'm Alaina's friend."

I shake my head, wince from the hammers pounding into my skull, and claim, "She doesn't have friends."

His lips curl tightly. He glances at my mouth again, and I know I didn't imagine it. Then he says, "She has one. It's me."

I furrow my brows. "She would only be friends with an O'Leary."

His face falls. In a firm tone, he repeats, "I'm not an O'Leary. And there's nothing for ya to fear. As I said, I won't hurt ya, and neither will your da or Tommy. I won't let them."

Minutes pass. Both of us stare at the other, and I'm unsure what to think. Part of me isn't scared, but the other knows that's foolish.

No one can defy Da or Tommy.

"Ya have to take me back," I whisper, yet the thought of that cold room or Tommy dragging me into his bedroom...

I close my eyes, fighting the tears welling up, but there's no point. They leak down my cheeks.

Aidan swipes his fingers over them. "Shh. It's okay. But ya aren't returning to Tommy, and I'll only say this one more time. Your da and Tommy won't ever hurt ya again."

I shake my head. "They will. No one can protect me."

"They won't," he declares with so much assurance I almost believe him.

Almost.

He stays planted another moment, then retreats. "It's going to be a few more hours until the drug is fully out of your system. It's best if ya don't make any sudden movements and stay in bed. I'll come back in an hour and give ya more water. Later, ya can have some soup."

He drugged me.

Anger resurfaces. Not only has he put my life in danger, but he also stabbed me with a needle full of who knows what.

Amusement passes on his expression. He mumbles, "There's that defiance."

"What?" I snap.

He blinks as if he didn't realize he spoke out loud. He sniffs hard, then rises. "Can I trust ya to rest, or do I need to tie ya to the bed for your own good?"

Horror fills me. Flashbacks of Tommy restraining me so I couldn't fight him assault me.

Aidan must take my expression as cooperation. "Good choice. Stay in bed so ya don't hurt yourself." His gaze lingers, then he spins and walks out of the room, shutting the door.

I stare at the brown wood and shudder. It's identical to the one in the cold room where Tommy kept me captive.

How many hours did I study that door?

I wait for the sound of a lock to click, yet nothing ever comes. A while passes before I find the courage to glance around the bedroom.

Faded green and cream paper covers the walls. A shopping bag sits on a wooden dresser. Next to it is a matching desk and chair. A gold mirror hangs on the wall above it. There's one window with a shade pulled over it. A hint of sunlight shines through the edges.

How long has it been since I've seen the sun?

I sit up and wince from the pain shooting through my brain. After it turns to a dull throb, I slowly inch my legs off the mattress until my feet hit the wooden floor.

I stare at my thighs, wondering how they got so thin. I remove the quilt and study the rest of my body.

This isn't me.

It is.

It can't be.

I force myself to rise and grip the headboard until the dizziness subsides. Taking a deep breath, I walk to the desk, then reach for the back of the chair to steady myself, swallowing down nausea.

When it passes, I lift my head and stare at myself with horror. Black half-moons underline my emerald eyes. My gaunt face barely resembles who I remember. All my bones are visible, and my muscles seem to have disappeared, along with my breasts.

New tears fall. I shouldn't cry. It's vain of me to do so, and Da always ordered us to hold them in. Yet I can't stop the waterworks.

A long time passes before I pull myself together. I swipe my arm across my eyes. I find my balance, step toward the window, then hold the windowsill with one hand.

I lift the shade, squeezing my eyes closed at the glare of the light, then force myself to open them. Eventually, everything comes into view.

There's a barn and chicken coop. A fire burns in a pit, and I stare at the back of Aidan's large frame. He crosses his arms, and the fabric of his shirt strains against his back.

Sweet Jesus.

The uncomfortable sensation lights up in my core again, and I curse myself.

I'm a married woman.

Tommy will kill me for thinking about any other man.

Aidan drugged me. He's not any better than Tommy.

Isn't he? He brought me to safety.

I'm not safe. Tommy and Da will hunt us down.

If he's not an O'Leary, then who is he?

Aidan spins and catches me staring at him. He frowns, then shakes his head and lunges toward the house.

I panic, but I'm unable to move.

Within seconds the door flies open. He steps inside and freezes. He drags his gaze over my body and then locks his eyes on mine.

I cover my chest with my hands and bend my knees, realizing I'm naked and look like a skeleton. A rush of blood pounds in my head from the quick movement, and I lose my balance.

Before I hit the ground, Aidan grabs my armpits, tugging me into him. "Whoa. Steady, lass."

Horrified, I keep my eyes shut, breathing in his scent and melting into the sensation of his warm arms around me.

His lips graze the top of my head. "I told ya to stay in bed."

Alarmed, I look up, begging, "Please don't restrain me!"

His face hardens.

"Please!" I whisper, blinking hard and admitting, "I-I haven't seen sunlight in a long time."

He takes several controlled breaths, glances at my lips, and adrenaline bursts inside me. Something about his gaze gives me the impression he's thinking lewd thoughts. "I can't have ya hurting yourself. You're too weak from Tommy starving ya. You'll break a bone, or several, if ya fall right now."

I process his statement, wondering if it's true that Tommy starved me.

"I'll keep the shades open if ya give me your word and stick to it that you'll stay in bed until the drug wears off," he adds.

Too many thoughts plague me. I stay silent, taking in his sharp features, then blurt out, "How many times have ya broken your nose?"

His lips twitch. "Who said I've broken it?"

I tilt my head, sure of it, questioning, "Haven't ya?"

"Do ya always ask men about their noses?"

I try to stop my smile, unsure why I'm asking him about his nose or even finding humor in this.

When did I smile last?

"Well? Do ya?" he pushes.

"No." I swear a hint of satisfaction appears in his expression. But maybe I'm crazy and just want it to be? I clear my throat and ask, "So...how many times?"

His head bobs side to side as if he's counting. Then he answers, "Six."

"I knew it."

His grin grows. "Are ya a nose-breaking expert?"

I laugh, but it sounds strange to me. Or perhaps it's just because it's been so long. I stop myself and stare at him.

His face falls. "I haven't heard ya promise me you'll stay in bed."

I start to nod but wince.

"Easy. Jesus, you're not helping yourself, petal."

Petal?

I bite my lip and arch my eyebrows.

"What's it going to be?" he repeats.

I cave. "I'll stay in bed."

He squints. "And I can trust your word this time?"

"Yea."

He repositions himself to the side of me and instructs, "Move slow."

More embarrassment that I'm naked hits me, and it seems to take forever to get under the covers. I sit against the headboard and pull the quilt under my armpits.

He asks, "Do ya want the shade up?"

"Please."

He goes to the window and opens it. Then he returns and says, "I'm trusting ya to keep your word."

"I will," I state.

He crosses his arms, assessing me.

"Do ya have a T-shirt or something I can put on?"

He steps in front of the dresser, rifles through the shopping bags, and tosses a pair of sweatpants, a T-shirt, and a sweatshirt on the bed. He states, "My brother didn't get any undergarments. Sorry."

"Your brother?"

He nods.

Anxiety reappears. "He's here?"

"No. I sent him away. And don't worry. He's sworn to secrecy," Aidan states.

I relax a bit. Something about being here only with Aidan comforts me.

He glances at his watch. "Ya can have some more water in about a half hour. Is there anything else ya need right now?"

"No. Ummm..."

He waits.

"Thank ya," I offer.

"If ya need something, yell. Don't get up. I can't have ya breaking bones," he warns.

"Okay."

He hesitates and then steps toward the door. He reaches for the doorknob.

I blurt out, "Wait!"

He turns.

"Can ya keep the door open?"

He nods. "Aye."

I exhale. "Thank ya."

He says nothing and leaves.

The front door slamming shut echoes down the hall. I glance out the window, and Aidan reappears in front of the bonfire pit. I stare at him, unable to take my eyes off his backside, unsure why my butterflies won't go away.

I'm married.

He's a stranger and can't be trusted.

He took me away from Tommy.

Da and Tommy will kill both of us.

Who is he? Does he really know Alaina?

My sister doesn't have friends and doesn't associate with people outside our clan. If Aidan isn't an O'Leary, then it can't be true.

He's lying to me.

If he isn't an O'Leary, who is he?

Our clan has a lot of enemies. He could be anyone.

What is his motive for kidnapping me?

Oh my God. I'm his captive.

Aidan turns, and his eyes meet mine. Neither of us looks away until he moves toward the house and disappears. The sound of the door opening fills my ears, and I slide down into the bed, closing my eyes.

There are too many unanswered questions that scare and confuse me. I don't know who this man is, nor do I trust the way he looks at me or the sensations he ignites inside me.

Maybe it's better if I pretend to sleep?

The floorboards creak, and the weight of his body sinks the mattress. His warm palm covers my cheek, and electricity sparks on my skin. "Time for some more water, petal."

There it is again. Petal.

Why do I like it when he calls me that?

I open my eyes and take the water. He sets the glass on the table and rises.

When he gets to the door, I ask, "Who are ya? I can't figure it out."

He freezes, then turns, stating, "I told ya. My name is Aidan, and I'm Alaina's friend."

"That doesn't make sense."

"It will soon. Stay in bed for a bit longer. We'll have dinner in an hour," he adds, then disappears, leaving me full of questions and no answers.