Page 46 of Stolen Rival (The Stolen #1)

PATRICK

“That went better than I expected it to,” Liam says. “Although I thought at one point you were going to put his head through the wall.”

I glance out of the window as my driver pulls off the motorway. The closer we get to home, the more eager I am to see Sorcha. She should be back from her lunch with Rosanna by now.

This is a new feeling for me. Usually after a meeting, especially one with a foe rather than a friend, I’m itching to punch something, to release all that excess energy I have crawling under my skin.

Now, the best way I can think of to release that energy is to fuck my wife. I’m not at all unhappy about it.

“I almost did but then I’d have given the game away, and he’d realize that Sorcha is more than a warm body to get my dick wet. He was testing me on the phone last night when he asked whether I was bringing her. Him talking shit about her was just another test. ”

Liam punches me on the arm. “Proud of you, bro. That can’t have been easy.”

I’m not the kind of man to share my feelings. I tend to keep them all bottled up inside, so out of the two of us, I’m the more surprised one when I say, “I like her. I more than like her.”

Liam cants his head. “For real?”

“Yeah. I can’t pinpoint when marriage out of necessity turned into more but, as I listened to that English fuckwit prattle on about how women are only good for two things—fucking and breeding—declining to act on the urge to splatter his brains all over the wall is one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do, and that’s when I knew she’s become more to me. ”

“Do you love her?”

“No.” I’m not even sure I’m capable of giving a woman the kind of control over me that being in love would entail.

“But I care for her. Deeply. Every day, she grows into someone I think could, over time, be a true partner to me. She’s so much smarter than her idiotic father gave her credit for.

She could have been a real asset to his business, but he always was a fucking misogynist.”

“If that’s how you feel, then I’m even more proud of you for putting our business interests ahead of your personal feelings.”

“Oh, he’ll get what’s coming to him, but it’ll be when he least expects it, and I can cover my tracks. The fucker is dead for sure.”

Liam chokes out a laugh. “That’s the man I know.”

As the car turns into our road, I can’t stop smiling. Perhaps I shouldn’t have told Liam I’ve caught feelings for Sorcha, but it’s done now.

“Sir, the gate isn’t opening.”

Frowning, I peer between the front seats. The gatehouse guard should have opened them by now. “Use the remote.”

“Yes, sir.” A few seconds later, the wrought-iron gates open inward, and he drives through. The guard isn’t in the gatehouse.

My staff never leave their posts.

Never.

Prickles crawl across the back of my neck. I don’t fucking like this.

Sorcha. Maybe she isn’t back from lunch with Rosanna. If anything’s wrong, I hope to fuck she stayed out later than planned.

I tap my bodyguard on the shoulder. “Go and check what’s going on.”

Unclipping his seat belt, he climbs out of the car, unholsters his weapon, and ducks into the gatehouse. Seconds later, he reappears. “Sir, he’s out for the count.”

My world narrows, vision blurring. A single thought reverberates around my mind like a fucking pinball machine. Is Sorcha safe?

Both Liam and I launch out of the car, drawing our guns. “Is he breathing?”

“Yes, sir. Steady pulse.”

“Good. Stay with him.” I cock my head at Liam. “You go around the back. I’ll take the front.”

“If we’ve got company, they’ve already seen us coming.”

I swallow, my throat thick. God, please let her still be at lunch. “Yeah, I know. Go.”

Liam takes off running. I race to the front door. Taking a deep breath, I open it and peer through the gap. The house is dead silent, no signs of screaming or moaning, or orders being barked .

On the balls of my feet, I creep down the hallway toward the kitchen. The door’s closed. I twist the knob as quietly as I can and push it open. Maeve’s at the stove, and the smell of some kind of tomato and herb sauce fills the air. I lower my gun.

“Maeve?”

She leaps out of her skin and turns to me, making the sign of the cross. “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. You scared the living daylights out of me.”

“Are you all right?”

“Yes. Why wouldn’t I be?”

This doesn’t make any sense. “Is Sorcha back from lunch yet?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t seen her.”

Good. That’s good. “Okay, thanks.” As I pivot, Liam’s coming toward me. “Anything?”

“Nothing.”

“No Sorcha?”

He shakes his head. That’s something at least. “Haven’t seen Darragh either.”

“I don’t like this.”

“Me either. Darragh might be in the gym. I’ll go look.”

He heads downstairs while I set off in the direction of the drawing room. If Sorcha’s at home, and safe, it’s likely she’ll be in here. Her other favorite place to hang out is the orchard, but Liam came through that way.

Where are her guards? I left two with her, plus Darragh.

It’s too quiet. Too eerie. Whatever is going on here, my instincts are firing. I don’t fucking like this at all. I poke my head into the drawing room. No Sorcha. Liam’s panicked voice comes from behind me. I spin around. He gestures wildly.

“Hurry up. It’s Darragh. ”

Reversing course, I break into a run after him, and we burst through the doors of the gym. Darragh’s lying on the floor by the weight rack. My heart fucking stops dead. “Is he…?”

“He’s out cold, but his pulse is steady. There’s a drop of blood on his neck. Looks like a needle hole.”

“Sedative.”

“That would be my guess. Any signs of Sorcha yet?”

I shake my head. “Can’t find Dan or Jeff either. I’m going to call Rosanna.” My fingers tremble as I scroll through my contacts. I find her details and wait for her to answer. “Rosanna, it’s Patrick. Is Sorcha with you?”

“No. I was about to call Garrett and ask him to get in touch with you. She never turned up for lunch.”

An iciness enters my veins. Fuck.

“Patrick.” Her voice wavers. “Is everything okay?”

“No, it isn’t.”

“Do you need me to send Garrett over? Can I do anything?”

“Yes, tell him to come. Just stay there in case she shows.” It’s late afternoon, so unlikely, but I’m clutching at straws.

“I will.” She pauses. “She’ll be okay. She’s smart and tough.”

“Yeah.” My voice grates like sandpaper. I hang up before I show one of my captain’s wives how fucking terrified I am right now.

“Liam, stay with Darragh. I haven’t checked my study yet.”

I can’t see why either bodyguard or Sorcha would be there, but it needs ruling out. As I open the door, my stomach plummets to the floor.

On the wall directly opposite the door is a photograph of Sorcha, and the eyes have been crudely cut out. I round my desk and rip it off the wall. There’s a note on the back .

Play nice and you’ll get her back. Play nasty and I will take her eyes first, then her teeth, then her fingers and her toes. I’ll drag out her death for days.

I recognize the handwriting immediately.

That fucking bastard. He’s dead. Dead. My vision goes red, a hot, suffocating haze that narrows everything down to Sorcha’s face and the roaring in my ears.

I sprint back to the gym. Darragh’s awake, but he’s still slumped on the floor, and Liam’s crouched beside him.

“Andrew’s got her.”

“What?” my brothers cry in unison.

I hand the photograph to Liam. “Motherfucker is dead.”

“Jesus Christ,” Liam mutters.

Darragh grimaces, rubbing his forehead. “Shit. I’m so sorry. I fucking let you down.”

“You didn’t let me down,” I growl. “This is my fault. I should have put that bastard out of his misery in New York.” I fish my phone out of my pocket and stab at the screen.

Andrew’s phone rings. And rings. Goes to voicemail.

Fucker is playing games. I needed an excuse to off him that would fly with the Americans, and this is it.

No one takes the boss’s wife and expects to live.

I call again. On the third ring, the call connects.

“Where the fuck is she?”

“Ah, you’re home I see. Did you like the photograph?”

“You’re dead, motherfucker.”

He chuckles. “I don’t think so. See, I hold the trump card, and there’s a price to pay to get her back, mainly in one piece.”

He laughs again. I’m going to kill this bastard slowly.

It doesn’t matter what he asks for, he won’t get it.

But I’ll play the negotiation game until I come up with a plan to rescue her and put a bullet through this cunt’s brain—after I’ve carved out his insides and shoved his intestines down his throat.

“And what is that?” My voice is glacier cold, menace threaded through every word.

“Dylan’s business. That belongs to me. I worked for it. I’m owed it. Sign it over to me, and you’ll get wifey back. Don’t, and well, you read the note I’m sure.”

Vibrating with rage, I take a deep breath. I’m going to enjoy watching this cunt bleed out. “That will take time. There are complications.”

“You have twenty-four hours. After that, little Sorcha here starts losing body parts.”

“Let me talk to her.”

“No can do. She’s still out from the drugs.”

“Then how do I know she’s alive?” Just saying the words makes me want to vomit.

“You’re just going to have to take my word for it.”

He hangs up. My fists clench so tight, it feels like bone grinding on bone. Heat claws up my throat, bitter and acidic. I punch the gym bag that’s hanging from the ceiling on a chain. “Motherfucking bastard. ”

“What does he want?” Liam asks.

“What do you think? Dylan’s business. We’ve got less than twenty-four hours to find out where he took her and kill him.”

Liam nods, scrambling to his feet. Darragh goes to do the same, then wavers. “Give me an hour to metabolize whatever that bastard injected me with.”

“I’ll mobilize a team.” Liam claps me on the shoulder as he passes. “We’re getting her back, bro. Guaranteed.”