She quietly and slowly walked toward the kitchen area, making a
wide wake between herself and the bar as she leaned over and looked behind it.
She breathed out. Steeling herself, she headed down the hall to her bedroom.
The bedroom door was halfway closed, but she often left it
like that. Quickly and not caring about the noise, she slammed the door back
against the wall. She marched to the closet and opened it quickly and with
aggression. She swiped her arm through it just to make sure nobody was hiding
there. She checked the bathroom and marched into the spare bedroom and second
bathroom, repeating the process. As she closed the closet in the second
bedroom, she cursed under her breath. She decided she must not have pulled the
door all the way closed. Feeling more comfortable even though she was massively
irritated, she walked back out to the front door and made sure it was closed
and the lock engaged.
She tried to forget about it and get ready for bed. She was
tense and her nerves were frayed. As she showered, her thoughts drifted over
the work she had completed during the day, and then to dinner at Nicole’s and
the announcement. As Rory lay back in bed and tried to relax, she thought how
very happy she was for the Daileys. They were good people and good friends to
her.
As she rolled onto her side, she thought how lonely she was
returning to this empty house. She closed her eyes and remembered the feel of
Jackson’s arms around her, so warm and strong. It was nice feeling his broad,
large frame up against the length of her body, sharing his heat with her. That
had felt really good.
She turned onto her back and sighed, trying to clear her
mind and begging sleep to wash over her. As her eyes closed and she started to
relax, one last thought drifted through her mind: She had never, ever in her
life forgotten to close and lock her door.
Chapter Four
“Now, we’re going to go meet up with Daddy, sweetheart,
and have a little talk about why it’s not nice to side with the FBI over the
man you married, you fucking bitch.” Aidan jerked her hard against the seat and
told the driver, one of his assistants, to head for I-90.
“Where are we going, where’s Daddy?” Her head was down,
her hand to her face as she tried to catch her breath. The pain was sharp. Her
eye was swelling and watering profusely. Her breath and voice echoed, causing
ringing stabs of pain in her head.
“Daddy is waiting for you at the farmhouse, sweetheart.
He’s had a hell of a morning. We’ve been chatting about loyalty and what can
happen to family when they go against their own.” He hissed the words at her in
his Irish brogue while pulling her head back by her hair. She shrieked as he
leaned in and kissed her hard on the lips. “How was work today, dear?”
“You son of a bitch. If you’ve hurt him I’ll kill you.”
She was rewarded with another fist to her face that split her lip open. Blood
spurted out.
“Right, you’ll kill me. Look at you. You are the worst
wife a man could possibly have. Who would put up with such disloyal behavior
from his own wife? What did you take me for, you stupid cunt, some jerk-off who
wouldn’t take care of his own?” He rained punches down her back. As each punch
landed he called her another name. “Cunt, bitch, whore.” The blows kept coming.
Fear sliced through her as the air was knocked from her lungs.
Finally, he moved to the other side of the seat, pushing
her over hard. He panted. “You shut the fuck up now, bitch. Sit there and don’t
make a sound until we get to the farm and maybe I won’t kill you.” He spat with
each word.
She curled into the fetal position to protect her stomach
and held her head. Her eye and lips were swelling quickly and blood and tears
mixed with her hair. In sheer panic, she held as still as possible. Breathing
slowly, she tried to assuage the pain. She would stay perfectly still and
silent and try to think of what to do. Their farmhouse was so remote.
wide wake between herself and the bar as she leaned over and looked behind it.
She breathed out. Steeling herself, she headed down the hall to her bedroom.
The bedroom door was halfway closed, but she often left it
like that. Quickly and not caring about the noise, she slammed the door back
against the wall. She marched to the closet and opened it quickly and with
aggression. She swiped her arm through it just to make sure nobody was hiding
there. She checked the bathroom and marched into the spare bedroom and second
bathroom, repeating the process. As she closed the closet in the second
bedroom, she cursed under her breath. She decided she must not have pulled the
door all the way closed. Feeling more comfortable even though she was massively
irritated, she walked back out to the front door and made sure it was closed
and the lock engaged.
She tried to forget about it and get ready for bed. She was
tense and her nerves were frayed. As she showered, her thoughts drifted over
the work she had completed during the day, and then to dinner at Nicole’s and
the announcement. As Rory lay back in bed and tried to relax, she thought how
very happy she was for the Daileys. They were good people and good friends to
her.
As she rolled onto her side, she thought how lonely she was
returning to this empty house. She closed her eyes and remembered the feel of
Jackson’s arms around her, so warm and strong. It was nice feeling his broad,
large frame up against the length of her body, sharing his heat with her. That
had felt really good.
She turned onto her back and sighed, trying to clear her
mind and begging sleep to wash over her. As her eyes closed and she started to
relax, one last thought drifted through her mind: She had never, ever in her
life forgotten to close and lock her door.
Chapter Four
“Now, we’re going to go meet up with Daddy, sweetheart,
and have a little talk about why it’s not nice to side with the FBI over the
man you married, you fucking bitch.” Aidan jerked her hard against the seat and
told the driver, one of his assistants, to head for I-90.
“Where are we going, where’s Daddy?” Her head was down,
her hand to her face as she tried to catch her breath. The pain was sharp. Her
eye was swelling and watering profusely. Her breath and voice echoed, causing
ringing stabs of pain in her head.
“Daddy is waiting for you at the farmhouse, sweetheart.
He’s had a hell of a morning. We’ve been chatting about loyalty and what can
happen to family when they go against their own.” He hissed the words at her in
his Irish brogue while pulling her head back by her hair. She shrieked as he
leaned in and kissed her hard on the lips. “How was work today, dear?”
“You son of a bitch. If you’ve hurt him I’ll kill you.”
She was rewarded with another fist to her face that split her lip open. Blood
spurted out.
“Right, you’ll kill me. Look at you. You are the worst
wife a man could possibly have. Who would put up with such disloyal behavior
from his own wife? What did you take me for, you stupid cunt, some jerk-off who
wouldn’t take care of his own?” He rained punches down her back. As each punch
landed he called her another name. “Cunt, bitch, whore.” The blows kept coming.
Fear sliced through her as the air was knocked from her lungs.
Finally, he moved to the other side of the seat, pushing
her over hard. He panted. “You shut the fuck up now, bitch. Sit there and don’t
make a sound until we get to the farm and maybe I won’t kill you.” He spat with
each word.
She curled into the fetal position to protect her stomach
and held her head. Her eye and lips were swelling quickly and blood and tears
mixed with her hair. In sheer panic, she held as still as possible. Breathing
slowly, she tried to assuage the pain. She would stay perfectly still and
silent and try to think of what to do. Their farmhouse was so remote.
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