O’Grady was in his casino. He watched the gamblers who were at the tables, but his mind was far away. The female croupier at the blackjack table who had been eyeing him suggestively smiled flirtatiously at the Irishman who was barely aware of her flirtatious looks. Hostesses swayed by, and card dealers kept impassive faces as they dealt rounds. Another very ordinary day at the casino and by dawn, he would be richer by a couple of millions. But O’Grady could only think of a pair of soft brown eyes as he stood, sipping his drink, his body tense.
Damn, he thought, The Little Pet had wormed her way into his mind and he simply could not think of anything but her. And he was trying his damn best to make her hate him. What the f*ck was the matter with him?
Almost as though he had conjured up the pretty young girl, his phone rang.
It was Bianca Cruz.
Their shared pet.
His brows knotted; she never called him when he was working. What could be the matter now?
Her voice shook as she spoke.
“O’Grady, I need your help.”
It hit him in the gut, the soft voice, pleading and he knew he would walk through fire for her.
At once he was striding down the room, heading to the car.
Whatever it was, he wanted to hold her in his arms, make her feel better. And he would be damned if anyone hurt his Pet.
“What’s the matter, lass?” he growled.
She sighed and he could hear the fear, the anxiety in her voice.
“My sister…It’s Anna… there was a call from the school…”
She was near bursting into tears and he snapped, his mind whirling, thinking of possibilities,
“Did you call Saint?”
He could hear her swallow as she said,
“He’s not picking, O’Grady…”
He was out at the entrance, his vehicle at the door.
Getting in, he barked the orders to the driver and went on,
“Lass, what happened to your sister? Speak to me.”
Her voice came again,
“She’s …they had gone to watch a play …from school.”
And then, her voice broke as she went on,
“She’s missing, O’Grady, Anna is missing. Beth called me, she was in tears. The school authorities also.”
He was scowling, his mind working swiftly.
St Just had gone to the kink club he visited; he had been furious after O’Grady had stormed off, leaving Bianca in tears. The Irishman knew that he had gone too far but right now, his priority was helping Bianca.
He needed to prevent her from panicking.
On his other phone, he contacted his secretary and snapped tersely,
“Get me the school, St Anne’s on the Cliff,” and added, “NOW!”
Why had the women called Bianca? He thought furiously, he was also listed as a guardian.
He saw that he had missed seven calls and with a sinking heart, realized that the good nuns had indeed tried to contact him. Beginning from 2 pm. He stared at the rain which was now lashing the windows. It was dark now, almost nine.
He sent a message to St. Just. An emergency had risen. He needed his brother beside him.
Bianca sat on the armchair, biting her nails in apprehension. She did not know how to break the news to Heather. Poor Heather, who was deliriously happy because her Italian beau had proposed to her and they were waiting for the year to end, when she could join him in the vinery he owned, near the famed Martha’s Vineyard.
She looked up as the door was flung open and O’Grady strode in. With a sinking heart, she thought that he looked as aggressively masculine as ever, his black hair falling over his forehead, the stubble on his cheeks and his eyes on her. She was in his arms before she knew that she had risen from the chair and he held her to his chest, murmuring,
“Ah, my sweet Bianca, darling…we’ll find here, baby, we’ll find your sister, my love.”
Inhaling her fresh scent, the fragrance o her hair, the feel of her soft, rounded body made him think, this is what I want. So why the f*ck am I fighting it so desperately?
St Just had been summoned and he had arrived, looking a little dishevelled, for he had been in the middle of a session of dominating a new entrant.
Not that she aroused him in the way little Bianca did, he thought, as he stormed in and saw Bianca in O’Grady’s arms. St Just felt a sense of disquiet. His brother was like a chameleon at times. He swore that he did not need the Pet in his life, but looking at the protective way he was clasping her, St Just knew it was anything but.
“Cahill’s men.” Snapped O’Grady after they had settled Bianca and the dependable Sylvie and Barry had turned up to keep her company.
He repeated as he spoke on two phones, snarling orders to his men,
“Cahill’s men. They picked her up from the place. I got footage from one of the lads who works there. He owes me one.”
And that was all O’Grady would say as they headed to the hideout that Cahill generally frequented at this time of day.