Page 3 of Black Wedding

The closer this guy comes towards me, the more I realise he’s most definitely not a member of my dad’s security team. When he enters the light surrounding me, I can see that he’s much taller than my five-foot-three stature, maybe a whole foot taller, and is dressed in all-black tactical gear. If he worked for my father, he would be wearing a suit. All his security men look the same.

The tactical, high-grade, bulletproof vest he is wearing explains why my bullet didn’t even make an impact. But it’s the night vision goggles he has strapped to his head that explains exactly how he is capable of advancing through our house undisturbed. This guy was obviously the real deal, and it dawns on me that he must have taken out my father’s entire security system, and God knows how many of his men, just to get up here. But the scariest realisation is that I was his intended target all along.

Before I can get my knife into the correct position, a forceful blow knocks the gun out of my hand. At the same time, I feel a firm, muscular arm wrap around my body, holding the arm that I had the knife in tightly to my side. The next thing I know, his opposite hand is raising and aiming towards my mouth. The white cloth the stranger’s holding is the last thing I see before everything goes dark.

My plan worked perfectly, even with the minor hiccup we had. I expected a bit of resistance, hell, I had prepared for it. I was breaking into a fucking war zone almost. There’s more security assigned to the O’Keenan house than some of the royal families even have. These security guards are not overweight ex-policemen who have nothing better to do. Instead, they are at the top of their game and not only are they well-trained, but they also have all the latest technology.

This house is decked out better than Fort Knox, but, in all honesty, it was supposed to be a piece of piss. This is what I am good at. I knew exactly what I was doing and had done all my research on the Family, their house, and the security staff. I knew all of their weaknesses, gaps in their workforce, and how to disable the security system. I should have been in and out in under ten minutes, and I’m sure I would have been if it wasn’t for the one thing I didn’t take into consideration. Her.

The bright red-haired, petite spitfire was the last thing I had considered when planning. I knew very little about her, but this was not what I had envisaged. She is short, with curves in all the right places. I struggled to find many pictures of Brianna O’Keenan online, which should have been a warning sign. I normally don’t do a job without all the information, but this was no ordinary job. This was personal. I assumed this girl would be scared and that I could easily get close enough to have an advantage over her. Just long enough for the chloroform to take effect. I never saw her as a threat. Fuck, was I wrong.

All the research suggested she’s a posh little socialite, just like her mother. In the few pictures I found of her, that were a couple of years old, she was dressed head to toe in a ball gown, and dripping in diamonds. Her mother on one side of her, the glass of wine in her hand a permanent feature at all times, and her father on the other side of her. He always looks like the hard-nosed bastard everyone has come to know him as. In almost every picture, his arm is wrapped around Brianna as he gazes at her with a bright smile. The pictures suggest that his daughter is clearly the apple of his eye, which made her my perfect target.

From the moment I burst into this girl’s bedroom, I know I have underestimated her. Fuck, I had no idea she even owned a weapon, let alone knew how to use one. She didn’t hesitate. She simply took a deep breath and pulled the trigger.

Her shot was precisely on target, hitting the middle of my chest. It hurt like a motherfucker, but she wasn’t expecting me to be wearing a vest. Given the accuracy of her shot, I’m relieved she didn’t go for my head. But as soon as she momentarily lowers her gun, I realise why she opted for a body shot. She can’t see who I am.

Obviously, she knows someone my size shouldn’t be letting himself into her room at this time of the morning. I’m guessing her father has been under attack before. Someone who loves his little girl the way he does would ensure that security protected her before anyone else. That’s why it surprised me to learn she had no security posted outside her door. Vernon’s a cocky twat and probably assumed nobody would get this far.

Capitalising on her momentary lapse in judgement, I ignore the pounding in my chest and advance towards her quickly. Not only do I need to disarm her before she does any more fucking damage, I also need to speed up my exit strategy. No matter how big this mansion is, there’s no way that nobody heard the gunshot. Meaning they will be checking every room in the vicinity of the noise to find out what caused it, and I can’t go back out the way I came in.

Walking in through the main door, disabling the alarm, and going up the main stairwell of the house is a pretty ballsy move. Her room is just off the main stairwell, so anyone going upstairs has to pass her room. I managed to incapacitate any security I came in contact with, but there will be more. Going back the same way is an accident waiting to happen. Luckily, I’m a pro and have already mentally worked through all the escape routes I had planned for.

As the tiny girl in my arms becomes limp, I place the chloroform covered rag back into my back pocket and look down at the mass of red hair that is draped over her pale alabaster skin. I feel a very brief moment of regret that I have dragged this poor girl into her father’s mess. Then, as I look down at her, I realise she is practically naked. Wearing only an oversized, old Led Zeppelin t-shirt. Typically, on her petite frame, it should stop mid-thigh. However, due to the way she fell into my arms, the shirt has risen and I can see all of her creamy white thighs. Fuck, I can see she isn’t wearing any panties. That most definitely is not helping me to concentrate.

I have a lot of experience in these kinds of situations, believe it or not. Despite my preference to leave no one alive, I have been known to acquire live targets as well. Call it kidnapping or acquisitions, I don’t care. I will still do it in a professional manner. But the rock hard cock that is currently straining against my black combats is far from professional. Why the hell has my dick decided this is the perfect moment to behave like it’s never seen a pair of legs and ass before? I mean, her ass is literally perfect. Curvy and peachy, the exact vision you want to see as you are pounding her from behind. But, despite all of that, she isn’t anything new. I’m not exactly a virgin. I’ve fucked my fair share of women, and plenty with an ass even better than hers, but my dick doesn’t care about that.

I need to push this gorgeous girl out of my mind so I can work out how to get us both out of here, preferably without a bullet hole in either of us. My mind is whirling a mile a minute, and I know there is only one option, but for some reason, I’m hesitant. Of course, I know exactly what that reason is. Her. Why the fuck do I suddenly care about making sure she is safe? I’m kidnapping her, for fuck sake!

I understand that the only viable, quick way out of here is through her bedroom window. To jump down onto the conservatory roof beneath, and make a run for it across the large lawn. I have already made a hole in the fence, so I know that as long as I watch out for any remaining security who will now be on high alert, it will be an easy exit. But stupidly, I’m worried about her and I have no fucking clue why. Maybe it’s because she looks so small and fragile.

Lifting her into my arms so that I can carry her, the knife and gun she has been holding drops to the floor. I cradle her tightly to my chest and note she weighs next to nothing. I bench press heavier than her on an off day. Yet as I hold her, it feels like I’m carrying precious cargo. I have no experience with babies, but my best friend Kellan recently had a kid. He says whenever he picks her up, it’s like handling a volatile live explosive that’s as delicate as crystal glass. That’s precisely how I feel holding this girl, except she’s a fully grown woman who I shouldn’t give a shit about. Remembering how tightly she was gripping the hand-to-hand tactical knife before she dropped it, she is obviously no stranger to getting into fights. Strangely, the idea of this tiny yet feisty woman getting into a fight, or needing to use that knife, both pisses me off and turns me on. Her dad is a dick for not protecting her better, and I’m going to make sure he knows it.

We made it off the grounds as quickly as I knew we would. I can see O’Keenan’s men running around trying to identify the gunshot’s location, and I can hear them responding to one another on the radio I have in my ear that’s looped into their security frequency. Their first act was to get Vernon safely into his panic room. No matter how important Bree is to him, the coward always wants to make sure he is safe before anyone else. His daughter was next to be checked on. The delay while they secured Vernon allowed me the time I needed to get away, taking Brianna with me. I can’t wait to point that little fact out to the arrogant asshole.

Calling Vernon and telling him it was me who broke through his security and took one of his most prized possessions, taking that opportunity to humiliate him, is next on the agenda. It’s fucking time he took me seriously, and he’s going to find out just how serious I am. Now this, I’m going to enjoy.

Waking up feels like the most arduous task in the world, and I’m rocking the world’s worst hangover. For some reason, I can’t even remember what the hell happened last night. It’s really unusual for me to get so pissed that I’m like this the next day. My whole body feels like it’s held down by lead weights. Even opening my eyes is painful. Fuck, what did I do last night?

Even giving myself a mental pep talk isn’t quite enough to help me open my eyes. It’s a lot harder than it should be. But slowly, my eyelids start to open, and the bright light flooding into the room feels blinding. I mean, the light physically hurts, and I groan in pain. Shit, I really am in worse shape than I’ve ever been before. I need some painkillers and quickly. Luckily, I keep some in the drawer next to my bed, alongside my toys and knife, so I wouldn’t have to physically stand up. I’m not sure my stomach contents can survive that.

I feel like I’m running the last few meters of a marathon, when really I’m just trying to turn over in bed far enough to get the damn pain pills. Not that I have ever run in an actual marathon before, I just assume it’s very tiring and painful. I mean, I’m physically fit, but I’m not a crazy fitness freak. Most I’ve ever run is a 5k, and I was happy with that, but right now, my body feels like I barely know how to walk correctly.

I need to stop being a pussy and get my ass in gear so I can take my pain medication and then get on with my day. I’m sure I had something planned, but I can’t remember what. I also need to give Mia a call. If I’m this fucked up, she will be even worse. She’s the only person I ever drink with, and she knows how to let her hair down. We don’t go out often, but when we do, we really go for it.

Keeping my eyes firmly open this time, I roll over, causing my stomach to flip, but not because of my hangover. My vision clears rapidly as I take in the room. I don’t recognise anything around me. I jolt up in surprise, or at least I try to. My head starts to spin and I rest it back on the pillow quickly. I may live in a mansion with more rooms than I can count, but I know they all have some degree of floral wallpaper, except for two rooms; my own and my fathers’ office. Hell, my mum even decorated my fathers’ bedroom, despite never even sleeping one night in that bed. She decorated mine several times over, but every time I would get black paint and paint over it. Finally, after about the fifth time, she realised she shouldn’t have even thought about messing with a very stubborn fourteen-year-old.

Eventually, I ditched the black and settled for a gorgeous purple design, but this room didn’t have a hint of purple anywhere. The creams and blues, along with sparse decorations, told me this has to be a guy’s bedroom. I must have been totally wasted to break all of my rules. I rarely go home with guys, and if I do, I never stay the whole night. It had been close to a year since I had sex with a guy and a few months since I last let Mia drag me out. I have never really been into that lifestyle. It’s most definitely a buzzkill knowing my father’s men are standing outside the door. It isn’t exactly a big turn-on knowing they can hear, which is why I stopped doing it. For some reason, I left all of that at the door for this guy.

Looking around for any clues, I can’t see much with my head on the pillow, so I risk the inevitable headache and nausea and try to sit up, but they don’t come. Instead, I feel pain around my wrists and ankles and notice my arms and legs are tied to the bed. Some slackness in the ropes makes me think I might be tied down to prevent me from moving in some kinky sex game. This doesn’t feel like it’s about keeping me tied up for sex, I think it’s about making sure I can’t get up off the bed. Looking down, I see I’m in the same Led Zeppelin t-shirt I usually sleep in. I’m fucking relieved I’m not tied to this bed naked. But the fact someone has the fucking audacity to kidnap me is infuriating. What’s worse is my father’s fucked up excuse for security allowed it to happen. I won’t be relying on them to get me out of here. If I can, I will do it myself. I just need to work out where I am and why this asshole took me in the first place.

Take into account the cotton wool feeling in my mouth, the pounding in my head, and the rope around my wrists, it all helps my brain piece things together to try and work out what is going on. That’s when I remember the missing information. It all comes back to me like flashes of memories. The noise that woke me up and was followed by the large man that came bursting into my room. I also remember shooting the bastard, but he carried on advancing towards me. He was decked out in full combat gear, which is why the bullet didn’t stop him. Instead, it hit him straight in the vest, and that gave him the upper hand.

The last thing I recall is the guy’s big arms curling around me and his hand clasping something white over my mouth. Fucker drugged me, most likely with chloroform. I remember the smell so clearly. That sweet scent of acetone that reminded me of the cleanliness smell you get when you go into a hospital. What I want to know is why the fuck he chose me? Stupid question really since I already knew the answer. This could only be because of my last name. But this guy is messing with the wrong girl.

“Oi, you stupid fucker. Get the fuck in here and get me some water, pain killers, and a knife to cut this rope. I promise not to try to stab you with it.” I struggle to hide the sarcasm in my voice because I can’t even pretend that I’m not going to try to stab this dick with the sharpest instrument I can find when I get free. Of course, if he hands me the knife, that will be even better.

Looking around the bedroom as best as I can, I take in the lack of furniture. There is the double bed that I’m currently laying on, a bedside table with a lamp, two doors, and a chair in the corner. The small table next to the chair has two glasses on it, one is half empty. Some may have used the term half full instead. But I’m not an optimist most of the time, let alone at this fucking moment. Not while some guy has the upper hand over me. The thought of him sitting there, drinking a glass of water and watching me sleep, it infuriates me.

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