Waking up feels like I have the absolute worst hangover of all time.
My brain, at the moment, is made of complete and total mush. I have absolutely no idea where I am, which is strange. I can’t remember the last time that I drank anything that would result in this level of hangover, actually.
Which is my first clue that something is very fucking wrong.
My second, of course, is when I realize that my arms and legs are tied.
And that the wooly feeling in my mouth is not a horrible case of bad breath…
But a gag, potentially of actual wool.
Fuck.
My first instinct is to panic, but I quickly fight against it. I’ve been trained for this. Whether it’s living with my family or the training I’ve done with Interpol, I know how to get control of my emotions.
So I try that.
I take a breath. Then another. The binds on my wrist and ankles feel like plastic zip ties, and it’s going to take a while to get out of them.
When I open my eyes, it’s dark. Dark enough that I feel like I might be inside something. The low hum that I’m finally tuning into confirms that yes, I’m inside a moving vehicle.
Which is even fucking worse.
For a second, my mind goes to Marco. Did he do this? Did we have some kind of wonderful sex and then he just… kidnapped me?
My chest feels like it’s going to cave in.
I have to consider the possibility. Logically, that’s what makes sense.
But it’s absolutely killing me to think that might be the case.
Not Marco.
But it could be Marco…
There’s a jolt, and we come to a stop.
I think I might be in the trunk of a car.
There’s a heart-stopping moment when I hear a key in the lock, and when it opens, I almost sag with relief to not see Marco there.
However, I tense again as rough hands haul me upwards.
“Well, you’re a bit of a rough looking bird then aren’t you?”
The voice is attached to an older man, and while the cadence reminds me of the British Isles, it’s heavily accented. My vision is still a little blurry, but I can see that he’s tall, with hair that’s silver now but must have been dark and thick once.
His eyes are brown, his skin is darkly tanned, and a wicked scar crosses the entirety of his face.
Also, did he call me ‘rough’?
If I didn’t have a gag in my mouth, I’d spit on him.
He jerks me roughly forward, and I brace, expecting cold air. The early morning light, and subsequent air, however, is cool but not terrible. Clearly, we’re not high in the Italian Alps anymore.
But that seems like a really big problem.
How did I get here, when I fell asleep in Marco’s arms just moments ago. Or so it seems.
That’s all I remember, anyway.
He pulls me forward, then leans down to cut the bonds on my ankles, and I grunt, a fissure of pain shooting through me as I go. I’m desperately trying to figure out where I am and what’s going on as he tugs me forward.
All I can come up with is that I’m on the outskirts of some big city, and it’s… big.
The signs nearby look like they’re in German. I don’t think we’re in Germany though. The last time I was in Germany everything just felt… grey.
He drags me down toward a warehouse. I know instinctively that I can’t get into that warehouse. I just can’t do it.
If I do, bad things will happen.
So, I pull a classic move and I…
Flop.
Dead weight is always a good way to make sure that someone isn’t going to have an easy time with you.
The man curses, in a language that sounds like… Greek?
Greek.
“Get up,” he snaps at me.
I hold my hands up, letting my eyes water like I’m in pain. Like I’m someone who can’t fight for myself.
If he comes closer, and I’m on the ground, I can use his weight to pull him down…
He leans in. Yes.
Even with my hands bound, I grab him and fling him onto the ground, using my body to pull myself up.
The man grunts, but I’m up. My hands might be bound but I’m running forward, and I duck into an alley.
The man is close behind me. In the pre-dawn light, it’s easy to find me, so I keep going.
Streets weave past me, and I don’t know where I am. I’m blindly charging forward, until I spot something…
There.
A shop.
I’m almost there. Feet away. When something hits me.
Greek cursing again. I’m quite sure that he’s calling me a bitch, but I don’t care.
I’m not going to die like this.
I fight like a cat, scratching with my nails and kicking aimlessly. The man roars at me, and I keep going. If he’s hurt, it’s working.
I’m almost free. Almost…
The crack of a gun makes both of us freeze.
“Let her go.”
The voice is familiar, and while the man has his hand around my neck, he drags me up and holds me in front of him like a shield.
I turn, slowly, looking at the one person I’m so happy to see I could cry.
Marco.
He’s holding a gun. He looks like he hasn’t slept, his hair is wild, and he’s staring at us with so much emotion in his eyes, I don’t doubt for a second how he feels about me.
Marco loves me.
The realization washes over me. Every doubt I’ve had up until this moment feels like it doesn’t matter.
Marco loves me.
I need to get the hell out of here so I can tell him that I love him too.
“Who the fuck are you?” Marco snarls.
The man laughs. “You look so much like him.”
“I don’t know who I look like, but if you don’t let her go, I’m going to fucking blow a hole in your head,” Marco snaps.
The man shuffles. “You talk like him too. Your father.”
Marco blinks. “What about my father?”
“He took what’s mine. Took something that belongs to me. So now I’m taking something of yours.”
“My father’s dead,” Marco intones.
The man shuffles. He’s breathing hard. That makes me think that I either landed a blow or…
Or Marco shot him.
“Unfortunate,” the man says hollowly. “And even more so that you decided to give what should be mine to my son, because now I have two grudges to hold, against two De Lucas. One might be dead, but you?” I feel him shift, twisting my arm. “You’re very much alive, and so is she.”
“Touch my wife again and I’ll fucking kill you,” Marco snaps.
I can’t pretend the words don’t send a thrill through me. But, now isn’t the time.
I need to get out of here.
I shuffle slightly, hoping Marco notices. If I flop again, the man might fall for it…
Marco’s eyes catch mine, and I see him nod.
No matter what, he trusts me, and we’re going to get through this, because I fucking love him.
And I won’t die now.
“Your wife?” the man sneers. “Your mother was supposed to be my wife. She…”
That’s enough.
I drop, and at the same moment, Marco fires.
The gunshot lands. I know because the man collapses behind me with a very gross, meaty sound. Seconds later, Marco’s hands surround me, and he’s tugging me into his chest.
“Roisin,” he breathes. “My god, fuck, are you okay?”
I make a noise around the gag.
With shaking hands, he takes the gag off of me, and I breathe. “I’m fine,” I whisper, hoarsely. “What the hell happened?”
“He took you from the inn. Must have hit you with some kind of a tranquilizer, and then took off from an airfield nearby. He blew up the inn—”
“The inn? Oh my god, is everyone okay?”
Marco nods. “Yeah. Amazingly, no casualties, but I was outside on the phone when the bomb went off.”
“Jesus Marco,” I breathe. I go to move my hands to touch his face, but they’re still bound. “And you just what, hopped a plane?”
“Yeah,” he murmurs.
I shake my head as Marco takes his knife to the plastic on my wrists, freeing me. “How did you find me?”
“Sal,” he says softly. “Sal suspected that Dino’s father took you… and he was right.”
“Dino’s father?”
Marco nods. “Dino’s father kidnapped our mother, right after I was born. Dad raised Dino as his son, but the whole thing got really fucked up. Turns out Drakos was behind all of this. Framing you, to come for me. He wanted revenge on the De Lucas, and he decided to take it… on me.”
He helps me to my feet, and I’m about to say something, but I get wrapped into Marco’s arms instead.
He holds me.
I hold him.
And in the space between heartbeats, I feel…
Better.
“I thought I lost you,” Marco murmurs.
I make a noise.
“I thought I lost you, Roisin, and I can’t… I never…”
“I love you,” I blurt, pulling back.
Marco stares at me.
“I love you. I think we probably fucked this up, getting married like we did, but Marco… I don’t want this to end. I’m sorry for everything, I know I’m not the best… I know that I come with a ton of baggage, but I love you,” I whisper. “I’m scared as hell to tell you this, but I will anyway, because life is damn short and I…”
My torrent of words is cut off as Marco presses his lips to mine.
It’s more than just a kiss. It’s everything that we haven’t said. Everything that we want to say. Everything that I’ve been meaning to tell him for months, ever since our time together in the little cottage on the Irish coast.
When the kiss breaks, I’m panting. I stare up at Marco.
He looks down at me, his lips tilted into a smile.
“I love you, Roisin,” he murmurs.
Then, he gets down on one knee.
I blink. “Marco, what are you…”
“Roisin. I want you. I want this. I want us. I want to be a family with you now, forever, and always. Will you do the honor of marrying me?”
I shake my head. “Marco, we’re already married.”
He tilts his eyes to look at me, and the sincerity I see there makes my heart feel like it’s squeezing itself.
“I didn’t give you a choice before. I am now. Marry me. Please. Because I love you and I can’t spend another day without you.”
I mean. What’s a girl to say to that?
I should let him worry, just a little. After all, poking at Marco’s carefully formed boundaries is one of my favorite hobbies.
But I can’t stop the smile that crosses my face.
Nor can I help the joy that I feel.
I kneel down to be on his level, placing my hands on either side of his face.
“I love you too, Marco De Luca.”
“So you’ll marry me,” he tilts his head.
I lean in, then breathe one word against his lips.
“Yes.”