Fergus - An Irish Mafia Shifter (Boston Bear Brothers 1)

“Okay,” she replied, her voice almost a whisper.

“Eimear, it would be a bad idea for you to try to escape. Trust me when I tell you that you do not want to see the other side of me.”

“This is your kind and gentle side?” she asked.

“Believe it or not, yes.”

“If this is your friend’s place, then why not just take me in with the ropes still on?” she said with a sly smirk.

“I could. I’m trying to give you a break here. If you don’t want it, no skin off my teeth, but I’m not going to fucking feed you, so good luck eating.”

“Fine,” she pouted.

“All right. Glad we could come to an understanding,” he replied, reaching over to undo the chain holding her tied hands up and pulling out a blade to cut the ropes free from her wrists. She rubbed them, pushing the circulation back into her hands. He could see the bruising and chafing where the rope had rubbed against her skin. It would heal. “Let’s go,” he told her.CHAPTER TENEimear

His smell was strong, masculine. There was something primal about him...and he was a monster. She’d considered every possibility of escape but was afraid that if anything went wrong, he wouldn’t hesitate to kill her. She tried to tell herself that he couldn’t afford to do that. If what he said about Ciaron was true, then she was leverage, which made her valuable to him. Killing her would cost him, but people like him always found a way, didn’t they? She’d grown up surrounded by people like him and people who wanted to be like him. Big fish in small ponds.

Perhaps she’d find a way still, but she was really hungry, and she did have to go to the bathroom. Maybe she’d just focus on getting some food and getting cleaned up a bit for now.

“Do I have any clean clothes in the car?” she asked.

“Clean clothes? Yes.”

“Could I get a change of clothes while we’re here?”

He studied her disheveled appearance and nodded. “Sure,” he replied, turning away to climb out of the car. She watched as he walked around the front of the car and opened her door, waving for her to step out. She climbed slowly out of the car, the aches and pains from her limited movement of late evident as she walked ahead of him to the back of the car. She hadn’t seen any evidence of a gun. She knew he had a knife, but if she ran, he’d have to catch her first.

“You don’t want to do that,” he said.

“Do what?” she replied, her heart thudding against her chest.

“Run,” he replied.

“I wasn’t...” she replied, her words cut off as he leaned in and spoke to her very quietly.

“It wouldn’t end well, Eimear. I can assure you of that. Don’t make me regret showing you a bit of decency.”

He opened the trunk and a suitcase to reveal clothes that weren’t hers. Hopefully, they would fit. She pulled a t-shirt and a pair of jeans out, along with clean panties and a bra. They looked her size. Whoever had gathered them up had done at least a reasonable job, it seemed. She picked up a pair of clean socks and stepped back, still fighting the urge to run, despite what he had said.

“Ready then?” he asked.

“Yes,” she replied.

“Burger and chips okay?” he asked as they stepped inside.

It was the same thing they’d fed her for lunch, but she didn’t feel like quibbling about it. It was food and she was hungry. She looked around, surprised to find other people dining. Somehow, she’d thought it would be empty, that he’d selected this place because he knew it would be. Instead, it was more than two thirds full. She looked around as a waitress showed them to a table. Several of the diners looked back at her, an expression of distaste on their faces.

“Yes, that’s fine,” she replied.

“Bathroom is that way,” he told her, pointing toward the back of the restaurant where a sign hung above a hallway.

He was letting her go alone? Not even standing by the door? It didn’t add up. She moved toward the back and followed the hallway to the bathroom. Stepping inside, she saw that it was one of those small single unisex ones. She glanced at the window; it was high, but open. She could get out of it, but if she tried—if she took too long—he might look for her. She took a deep breath and stripped off her clothes, washing up in the sink and splashing some cold water on her face.

She looked in the mirror. Her face was splotchy, probably irritated from that stupid bag they put over her head. Her lips were raw and the skin around them chapped. Dark circles gave her a gaunt look. Her hair had fallen out of the loose bun she’d had it in when they had taken her and was tangled up all over her head. She ran her fingers through it. It wasn’t much better, but who did she have to impress? Slipping on the clothes, which fit surprisingly well, she tossed her old ones in the trash and returned to the restaurant.