Redemption and Regrets (Chastity Falls, #4) (19 page)

~ Braiden ~

N
o one came through the night. At least, I didn’t think they had. It was quite possible I had passed out at some point from the pain radiating from various places of my body. There was every chance I’d taken another beating—which, if I had, was better than being conscious and remembering it anyway.

I didn’t know what was worse; the pain or the endless time. With no way of knowing whether it was day or night, light or dark, on the other side of the door, time became my prison. So when the door opened and light seeped into the room, I was grateful for those few seconds of awareness. But as quickly as it came, it vanished as the door clicked shut behind Annie O’Connor. Like before, she turned on the dim light and dragged the other chair until it was opposite me.

“Do you love her?”

My head snapped up to meet her eyes unsure I’d heard her right. Because here I was bleeding out and going crazy, and I was almost sure she had just asked me if I was in love with her daughter.

“Don’t look so surprised. I’m Cara’s mother, and it’s a mother’s business to know what is going on in her daughter’s life. I just didn’t expect she would fall for someone like ...” I braced myself ready for the onslaught of names, but all she said was, “You.”

“I’m not in love with her.” The lie flowed out as if it was the truth. “We met up a couple of times, yeah, but nothing happened. It’s not my problem if she developed a schoolgirl crush on me.”

An indecipherable smile broke across the woman’s face, and she replied, “Braiden, I think we both know you’re lying.”

I hated that I couldn’t get an angle on her. Was she in here trying to play good cop? Build up my trust and get me to talk? Or was she really in here with her daughter’s best interests at heart? I didn’t know which way was up or down anymore, so trying to figure out her play was too far out of my reach.

Exhausted, I slipped down the chair and inhaled deeply. The stale air clogged my nose and throat, but right now, breathing—the rise and the fall of my chest—was the only thing that convinced me any of this was real.

“Here, take this. It’ll help.” Mrs. O’Connor brought two tiny pills to my mouth and motioned for me to part my lips. At this point, what did I have to lose? If she was slipping me something to finish me off, I just hoped it was quick because my body was done. And if she wasn’t, and it really was pain meds, then I hoped she had more where they came from because I had enough pain to fill an ocean.

She handed me a bottle, and this time, I managed to drink the water unaided. “Thanks,” I said, my throat sore and scratchy.

“Under different circumstances, I’d be busting your balls right about now. There’s a girl inside that house”—she flicked her head to the door—“who thinks she’s somehow to blame for this. That the guy she’s foolishly fallen in love with wants nothing to do with her. If your plan was to break her heart, bravo, Braiden, you succeeded. But if you want to man up and do the right thing, for once in your life, then I’ll ask you one more time. Do. You. Love. Her?”

I stared at the woman in front of me. The mother of the only girl I’d ever loved. How did I answer that question? Did I love her?
With every fiber of my being
. Did it change anything?
No
. I was still Braiden Donohue, and she was still Cara O’Connor. Two families, once friends, but now enemies. It was ironic, really, that I’d ended up here. Now. After everything. Prison might have been my punishment, but this was my penance. To have Cara so close and be unable to touch her. To never have the chance to love her the way she deserved to be loved.

“Yes. I love her.”

I did.

Shit, I was so in love with her that I couldn’t think straight. Somewhere along the line, I’d let her in and given myself to her. I hadn’t meant for it to happen, wasn’t even sure I wanted it, but I hadn’t been lying to Cara the night I told her that once I had her, I wouldn’t be able to let her go. Because even if I never got to hold her again, she lived in me now. Right where my fucking dead heart lay.

“I didn’t think you had it in you.” She rose from the chair and looked down at me. “Don’t give up hope, Braiden. Sometimes the best things in life are worth fighting for. Don’t forget that.”

A thick cloud descended over me, fogging my brain, and I wondered exactly what she’d given me. I slid down off the chair and dropped my head on the seat, watching through glassy eyes as Annie O’Connor left the room.

... worth fighting for.
I closed my eyes and pictured Cara’s face. She was worth fighting for. Worth dying for. If only I could move. Get up off the cha ...

~

W
hen I came to, the first thing I noticed was I could see. Well, as good as anyone could see out of one eye, since the other was still glued together from all the swelling and sticky blood. Furniture, photos hanging on the wall, a huge Redwood desk. I was no longer in the annex, that was for sure.

I sat up on the couch and rubbed the back of my neck, immediately bringing my hands to my lap to inspect my wrists. No longer bound by rope, they were bruised and sore, but despite the pain, I rotated each wrist enjoying the sensation of unrestricted movement.

“Ahh, I see you're awake.”

My eyes found Frankie O’Connor sitting behind his desk, leaning back in a high-back leather chair.

“You must be confused. We’ll get to that, but first, you must want food. Water, perhaps?”

Still fuzzy from whatever Annie O’Connor slipped me, I nodded. Was this a trick? Some ploy to catch me off guard before putting a bullet between my eyes? It made no sense. None of it did, yet the offer of food had my empty stomach grumbling.

“Eat. We’ll talk later.” O’Connor rose from his chair and walked straight past me. I glanced over my shoulder, watching with my mouth hanging open, as he left the room and a short round-faced woman entered carrying a tray.

“I hope you like pasta, Mr. Donohue. It was all I had time to whip together. There’s some soda, too. I’ll give you some space.” She breezed out of the room, whistling some upbeat tune completely unaffected by the dirty, beaten-up guy in the chair.

It was like waking up in some freaky parallel universe, and I half-expected Cara to burst through the door next and forgive me.

She didn’t.

Shuffling forward, I picked up the fork and prodded at the pasta. It seemed kosher, and I risked taking a bite. Acid rushed into my mouth, my stomach hungry for the sustenance but wary at having been starved for hours on end. Taking small bites seemed to ease the sensation, and before long, I’d eaten half the plate of food. I washed it down with the soda and stood up. My body ached, but the pain had subsided. My ribs felt tender as I stretched my arms out in front of me and then behind my back, clasping my hands together. Whatever Annie O’Connor had given me had worked a treat. I felt almost human. Beaten and bruised, but human nonetheless.

The door opened and the miracle worker herself slipped inside. “Ahh, I see you’re awake, and looking much better, I might add.”

“Thanks to you, I guess.”

She shrugged as if she hadn’t done me a big fucking favor. “I don’t like to see anyone suffer, Braiden. Even if they deserve it.”

“And you think I deserve it?

“I’m not sure. Do you?”

“Your husband’s beef was with my father. Not me and my sister.”

“Sister?”

So she wasn’t as in the loop as she made out. I dropped back into the chair and leaned back. “He tried to have her killed.”

“Interesting.”

“Is it?” I shot back. “Seems pretty unnecessary to me. Is someone with O’Connor’s power really that threatened by an ex-con and his twin sister?”

“It would appear I’ve been kept in the dark on certain things, as I’m sure have you.”

What the fuck did that mean? But I didn’t have a chance to ask as O’Connor entered the room and narrowed his eyes at his wife. “Annie? What are you doing in here?”

Annie O’Connor flipped her hair off her shoulders and smiled at her husband. “Just paying our guest a little visit. I’ll be in the den if you need me.” She shot me a look that I didn’t quite understand before leaving us alone.

“I trust you’re feeling better?”

“I’ll live.”

O’Connor’s lip pulled into a smirk, but he didn’t respond to my sarcasm. “You must want to clean up. Miranda has prepared a room for you. It has its own bathroom. Get washed up. There are some clean clothes you can borrow, and then we’ll talk.”

I stared at him blankly, confused by the sudden turn of events. My senses screamed trap, but something about Annie O’Connor’s appearance in this whole thing made me wonder if she was responsible for my reprieve.

“Miranda,” O’Connor called, and the woman came rushing back into the room. “Yes, sir.”

“Take Mr. Donohue to his room, please. See to it that he has everything he needs.”

The woman smiled at me and said, “This way, Mr. Donohue.” She disappeared out of the doorway, but O’Connor’s voice held me back.

“Braiden, don’t mistake my hospitality for kindness. Just because I am inviting you into my home does not mean that we’re on the same side.”

I flicked my head and ducked out of the room, following the housekeeper. What else was there to do? Every muscle in my body ached. Dried blood matted my hair and stained my skin. And on top of everything else, I stunk. Sweat, stale air, blood. I was disgusting.

The housekeeper, or whatever the fuck she was, led me to a second-floor room. It was small, a guest room I assumed, but it had a small bathroom attached to it and fresh towels. I dismissed her and locked the door. Suddenly aware of my whereabouts, I dropped my head back against the door and inhaled deeply feeling the sting of my ribs as my chest expanded. Cara was somewhere in the house. Of course, I never expected O’Connor to make me her new neighbor—he probably had her under surveillance—but she was here. Somewhere. Overcome with the need to search her out, I headed into the bathroom and stripped out of my soiled clothes.

A monster stared back at me as I stood naked in front of the vanity mirror. My right eye was still swollen shut. It needed icing, possibly even stitches. Ugly purple bruises tracked along my ribs, and I knew if I turned around, the same pattern covered my lower back. I reached into the shower stall and turned on the jets. When the water was hot enough, I stepped inside letting the water cleanse me. At first, it hurt. The heat burned rather than soothed. But after a few minutes, my body acclimatized. Stiff muscles eased under the pressure as the red-stained water collected at my feet and disappeared down the drain.

Exhaustion soon set in; a combination of standing for so long under the powerful showerhead and the temperature of the water. I dropped my forehead against the cool tiles and breathed deeply. What was I doing? What the fuck was I doing?

Four years ago, I would have fought my way out of a situation like this ... or died trying. But here I was enjoying the luxuries of O’Connor’s hospitality. And to what end? Had Annie O’Connor informed him of my short-lived relationship with Cara? Did he want to draw me in, personally disorientate me enough that the final blow would be that much sweeter? Or was there another reason for his sudden turnaround?

Either way, there was no getting out now. The way I saw it, I wasn’t leaving here in one piece. O’Connor thought either I had information he could use or he knew about his daughter and me. And both scenarios didn’t end well for me. That should have been my sole focus. A plan—some kind of escape strategy or story to feed O’Connor to buy me some time. That was what any sensible guy would have been thinking about at a time like this. But sensible had passed me by a long time ago. Because all I could think was s
he’s here.

Cara was here.

~ Cara ~

B
raiden was here.

In the house.

My heart beat furiously in my chest as I lay on my bed clutching my pillow. I’d heard Miranda show him to his room at the other end of the hallway. It had to be Mom’s doing, but it didn’t stop the questions running through my head.

A knock on my bedroom door startled me, and I rushed to open it. Mom slipped past me and turned around to face me. “Okay, baby. You need to promise me that you won’t go to him. Not yet. Not until I smooth things over with your father.”

“What? What do you mean? What’s going on, Mom? I- I don’t understand.” My voice came out shrill.

“Shh, Cara. I know you have questions but now is not the time. You have to trust me, okay? This is a good thing. It means he won’t be hurt anymore.”

“But?”

I needed to know what the but was.

“Your father is going to ask him to choose. When all is said and done, your father is a businessman, Cara, and this is business. I can only influence him to a certain degree; you know that. There are things he will not include me in.”

Frustration bubbled up in me, and I wanted to scream, but I swallowed it down gasping for breath. “I don’t understand any of this. Is Daddy still going to hurt him or not?”

Mom rushed to me and enveloped me her in arms. “I need to go. You need to act as normal as possible, baby. For now. And you need to trust me, okay? Say the words, Cara. I need you to say the words.”