Bianca turned at the sound of the soft, kind voice. She was sobbing uncontrollably for what had taken place in the hospital room had driven her to the depths of despair.
Beth had gotten there before Bianca. Holding her mother’s hands, Beth had hissed,
‘Get OUT, you dirty wh*re, you!” and then, when Bianca had faltered, holding the door for support, for Heather was unconscious, her sister, still a teenager, had risen and stormed over to her, slapping her hard across the face.
“Isn’t this enough for you?” Beth had screamed as Bianca cupped her cheek in shock.
“Haven’t you done enough damage? “And gripping Bianca’s hair, she had shouted,
“Where’s my sister, you bit*h, where is she?” and then; slapping the shocked Bianca again, she went on, even as the nurses rushed in.
“YOU! You are responsible for this- my poor mother …”
Someone had stepped forward and pulled Beth away as Bianca stood, oblivious to the hurt.
The physical hurt, yes, she could accept that…but blaming her?
Hysterically, she thought of how when Anna and Beth had been babies, she had often taken care of them, for Heather had been depressed after giving birth to the children. Her mouth open in a silent scream, she turned, sobbing.
She had given so much love, and had made the ultimate sacrifice for her stepsisters and stepmother.
And now…
Blindly, she stepped out and walked out, sobbing loudly all the while.
Till a woman stepped in front of her, a heavily pregnant woman, young and lovely, her blonde curls dancing around her face, her grey-blue eyes soft with concern.
It took her a while but then, Bianca recognised her; she had been there on the night of O’Grady’s fight.
The woman took in her distraught appearance and said softly,
‘Hey, things are never that bad, you know!” And then linking her arm in Bianca’s she said simply,
“Come with me.”
As Barry stepped out from behind Bianca, fiercely protective, the young woman turned her gaze on him. In a haughty, commanding voice, she snapped,
“She’s safe. I am the daughter of Lucien Delano. Tara Delano Lord.”
Barry fell back quickly and a couple of men came forward, all solidly built,
Bodyguards, thought Bianca distantly as an old woman, with wizened black skin and sharp black eyes, hunched over, hobbled closer.
“Lemme guess now. You be takin’ ‘er home, eh?” she snapped and the woman who had identified herself as Tara dimpled fondly.
“Meet Beatrice, my grandma,” she said and the one woman gave a rude snort but her face softened.
Another beautiful blonde woman, in her forties, hurried up.
“Tara, who is this?” She asked and Tara smiled.
“Lisa, I think I want to take this young woman home, to meet Mumma. What do you say?”
The other woman nodded absently and said,
“Hurry then, Jack has been calling me. Four calls, what do you know? He wants to know what’s keeping us.” She rolled her eyes dramatically.
And they sailed out, Bianca in tow. For some reason, Bianca felt safe, as though she had someone who would understand.
Yet, she was too weary to think. Once she was seated in the large, spacious sedan, which was way bigger than O’Grady’s she sank back against silken cushions and shut her eyes, too spent to cry.
Lucien Delano faced the men who had come into his office.
Louis was also there and Piers had just walked in, murmuring an apology for being late as his father’s unrelenting grey gaze pierced him.
The Israeli assassin was in Piers’s chambers on the same floor, for she respected the Mafia Don too much to attend a meeting that he was chairing unless he had specifically asked her to join.
Both egoistic folks, Ria had said once and Piers had smiled in agreement.
Now the Mafia Don glanced at his best friend, his Underboss, James Schwartz, who sat beside him, a little behind him.
Philippe, who had come in with Piers, sat a little behind him.
A fleeting thought entered the Don’s mind; it would be good to have Tara’s husband, Jack Lord on board too. The man had been the one to notice Cahil’s sudden interest in the remote lands on the outer areas of Hollowford. Lord had also been the one to root about and discover the true extent of Cahill’s nefarious activities.
Now his intense grey-blue gaze fixed on the two men in front of him. Sitting forward slightly, he growled,
“Tell me.” He nodded dismissively at his son Louis, who sat behind the visitors.
“My boys have filled me in but I need to hear it from you.”
Liam O’Grady swallowed nervously as he glanced at his brother.
“We, Saint…that is my brother and I, we share women…”
The Don swore coarsely and the younger Irishman felt his ears turn red.
‘Boy, I don’t give a f*ck if you screw a whole yard of goats, just tell me about Cahill’s connection.”
St Just shot a sympathetic look at his brother and he cleared his throat and then wished he had not, for the Don’s fierce gaze swung to him.
James Schwartz sat forward, the overhead light falling on his still handsome looks, the blonde hair and the well-defined features.
“What my mate wants to know,” he said in a placating tone, “Is this…do you know the extent of Cahill’s involvement?”
Liam O’Grady, his face and neck burning with humiliation, lowered his eyes as he thought.
“Your…” his eyes sought out Louis who was also sitting stiffly beside him, sweat beading his upper lipa and forehead, though the room was cold,
“Your…uh…friend… told us… about the involvement of Cahill…” he mumbled.
Once again, the Mafia Don cut him short.
“Quit the pussy footing, boy. You are referring to my son’s little snatch, who is also a damned fine soldier and a PI, eh?”
The Irishman looked as though he wanted to rush out of the room. St Just cleared his throat and said,
“Yes, she …we did not know how deep Cahill was into this…”
The Mafia Don nodded; his eyes narrowed as he thought silently.
Piers, who had remained silent till then leaned to look at his father.
“Hila has sources. We’ve been observing what Cahill has been doing ever since a large cruise liner docked in the port at Thomastown.”
Thomastown was a large port close by and Lucien Delano nodded, leaning back, his face in shadow as he said.
” The Governor has been alerted; and Judge McDill is also agreeable to arranging a warrant to get on board the ship. Right away.”
Louis leaned forward, eyes gleaming in excitement.
‘Serena …” he began but the Don cut him short.
“Philippe will supervise the operation from our end.” His grey eyes, cold as steel, shifted to O’Grady as he drawled in gravelly tones.
“Both of you will also accompany my men. But you will listen to Philippe.”
The O’Grady siblings nodded silently.
The Don sat back, clearly indicating that the meeting was over.
“You may leave,” said Schwartz gently and the Don snarled,
“Piers, boy you stay here. And get Hila to join us.”
Anna came awake slowly. Her tongue felt thick, her head was throbbing and she wanted to use the restroom, badly.
Her eyes adjusted to the gloom around her and she wrinkled her nose at the foul smell in the dark place she was in. Shifting, she tried to sit up and moaned. Her feet…they were bound. Her hands were free but …
She looked round wildly.
Where was she?
The salty smell of sea and the underlying smell of fish alerted her, as she became aware of the bobbing motion of her body.
She was on a ship, not a boat, but a ship.
And she heard muffled sounds of men, walking, shouting, overhead. A sniffle from the side made her turn in horror. And to her horror, she saw that she was not alone. There were at least seven other girls, women and children in all, in the small space. A lone dim bulb swayed far above her head.
Where was she? What had happened to her?