Bridge of Lies Page 2

  But maybe when we stopped. They would have to leave me alone and stationary at some point. And then I was going to get the hell out of these restraints and figure my way out. Because right now, no one had any idea where I was, and no one was coming for me.

  Especially not Bridge.

  When the chopper was on the ground, two sets of hands started to collect me and lift me up. I moaned and whimpered, trying to wiggle as carefully as possible before falling over. But then someone else picked me up, tossing me easily over their shoulder. It was definitely a man. He was strong. Built. And he smelled vaguely familiar. Why was that? Was he wearing a commercial cologne? His scent was a little bit spicy and not completely unappealing.

  Oh no, it’s too soon for Stockholm Syndrome. Get your shit together.

  I tried to count the number of steps to try and reverse engineer my way out when I got free. God, I was so fucked. And all I wanted was Bridge. His arms around me, holding me, taking care of me, and making me feel safe for the first time in my life. Goddamn it, I should have just listened. When he said he wanted to put me on a plane, I should have just listened to him. But I hadn't. And now it was too late. There was no safety net now. There was no reprieve. I was going to die, and he had no idea where I was.

  Five minutes later, I was being tossed on a bed. I expected some kind of hard pallet, but this was a bed. A full bed, not just a mattress on the floor. I sensed softness and the smell of roses and vanilla.

  Fuck. Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God.

  Why was I on an actual bed?

  Take one guess.

  Someone grabbed my feet, and I tried to kick. Bringing my knees back, I caught someone in the chest, but then they had me around the ankles again, held in their big strong arms, and I thrashed as much as I could. My shoulders were burning, and then I heard it… The flick of a blade, and suddenly, my legs were free.

  I used that opportunity to flail and kick. I tried to jump up and wiggle to my feet. But then there was a body pressed on top of me, and I screamed. It came out in a muffled squeal, but I was screaming and kicking my legs and bucking my hips. But no one hurt me. No one started to pull down my leggings. No one sliced anything along my face. No. I was just rolled onto my stomach, and the tears spilled down my cheeks as I sobbed.

  How is this happening?

  But instead of the worst thing I could think of, something was slicing through my zip ties, and my hands were free. Immediately, I pulled my hand back and hit in the general vicinity of where I thought his face would be, and then all I heard was a low curse. Quickly, I dragged the hood off my face, pulling at the tape on my mouth at the same time. "Fuck you—"

  I blinked rapidly, letting the light in. What I saw in front of me was completely unexpected.

  Instead of Francis Middleton, instead of a nameless, faceless henchman, instead of a greasy serial killer resembling Jeffrey Dahmer, I saw my husband.

  Three

  Bridge

  Emma was a fighter.

  Always was, always had been, but I hadn't expected her feet kicking me in the chest. And the ache I felt in my center was more than just catching the hit from her heels.

  Anger burned in my heart but with love intertwined. It was painful. The burn wasn’t one that would dissipate quickly. I knew that it would never go away. Because now I had to reconcile what I had to do with what I wanted to do. I wanted Emma out of my face, far away from me, where I would never have to look at her ever again. I should have put her on a plane to the Winston Isles. They would have kept her safe. And then I wouldn't have had to deal with the emotional hit. But I couldn't.

  Not now. Not knowing that she’d aligned herself with my father.

  The other issue was Middleton. Because she’d refused to leave, we had no idea what he knew at that point. And obviously, knowing that she couldn't be trusted, I couldn't very well send her to the Winston Isles alone, knowing she would only double back.

  Because she’d done it once before.

  So this was the only other solution. To say she’d find it distasteful was an understatement.

  "Stop kicking. You'll only hurt yourself."

  Emma stood frozen, staring at me. "Stop kicking? Are you fucking insane? You kidnapped me.”

  She wasn’t wrong. “How about you look at this as protective custody? One where you do as you’re told.”

  Her gaze scanned me. "Why would you do this? This is insane. Even for you, this is insane."

  Again, not wrong.

  "This is your room. You'll stay here. I know our plan was for you to leave Middleton Communications, but we have a new plan. You'll go to work as usual, but you will have security on you at all times. And you will be tagged. Do not pass go. Do not collect two hundred quid. For a normal person I wouldn’t have to tell you that it’s important to keep your bloody mouth shut about where you are staying and your movements. But you’re you, so I’m verbalizing it."

  "What, so I'm under house arrest now? Where the fuck am I?"

  "You are in the Elite headquarters." I said it slowly, deliberately, so she would understand.

  Her eyes went wide. “That fuck-off castle?”

  “Yeah. It’s meant to be the Director Prime’s primary residence, but Ben doesn’t live here, obviously. And your stalker is only here about once a month. So it's the safest place for you. He won't think to look for you here, and you still get to keep up day-to-day appearances."

  She opened her mouth and then closed it again. Opened. Closed. It was as if her brain was working through the rationale of this location and couldn't find a problem with it except for the fact that I had brought her here against her will.

  Oh, you know, and her brother died here. But I wasn’t telling her that.

  “This is mad, Bridge.”

  “This is your doing.” She wasn't trustworthy, therefore, she didn't deserve to be treated like she was trustworthy.

  "So you kidnapped me?"

  "Well, you see, you and I had an agreement about your safety.” We’d been on the same page. Then, Emma being Emma, she’d flipped the bird to staying on the same page and just did what she wanted. I couldn’t trust her.

  “I—” She started to speak then stopped and pursed her lips. “Yes, we did, but—”

  I shook my head. “I’m not interested in your excuses. Not only did you spit in the face of the tenuous truce we had, but you put yourself in danger. You were hurt that I wanted to put you on a plane to keep you safe.”

  She tried to interject again. “Fine, not the best choice, but—”

  I cut her off again. “And not only did you put yourself in danger after we made promises, but you also went to see my father. The man who has made it his life’s mission to ruin mine.”

  She swallowed hard, tears brimming. “I’m sorry.”

  “The time for apologies is over. When you slipped your detail for a clandestine meeting, it proved that you're not trustworthy. And since I can't trust you to do as you're told for your own safety, I’m putting you under protective custody."

  Ever stubborn, she lifted her chin. "The only problem with that is you're not the police."

  "No. But I have the best interest in your safety. You are, after all, my wife, right?"

  Her gaze narrowed. "Bridge, look, we can argue about this later, and I know I broke your trust. And whether or not you accept my apology, I do mean it, but there's something—"

  I shook my head. "No. We're not going to talk. You lost all rights to have any conversation with me the moment you met with my father!" My voice boomed, making the glass in the room vibrate.

  Her face fell, and a flush spread up her neck and her cheeks. She reached for me and then dropped her hand. "Bridge, it's not what you think. I'm not… I'm not her."

  I almost gave in to the softness in her voice. "You will forgive me for not believing you, right?"

  "Fucking hell, Bridge. Look, I know I fucked up. But we can talk about this. You don't have to go to such extremes."

  “Too late for
pleading.”

  She threw up her hands and glanced around. “I don't want to be in prison. You and I, we don't have to be at odds with each other. We don't have to be at war. Come on."

  "That's the problem, Ems; we will always be at odds. I'm trying to protect you, but you don't want my protection. You won't listen to reason, and then you run right into the heart of danger and betray me in the process."

  "Look, there's a lot we have to talk about, okay? We can fix this, but holding me hostage is not the answer."

  "You want to tell me what the fucking answer is? Please do. Let me guess, something that my father suggested would be your answer.”

  “Bridge…” Her voice broke.

  I leaned in close, and her gaze flickered to my lips. I hated the way my body automatically responded to her. My blood went hot, and my dick got hard. "Do you recognize that I will not trust any words that come out of your mouth right now? Not now, not ever. You and I, we're done."

  Her face fell. "We're not done, Bridge. I was trying to help. I know meeting with him was probably a mistake now, but what you're doing… We can't—"

  "My job is to keep you safe. I'm doing that. The moment we have something on Middleton and can put him away, you’ll be free to go. And I never want to lay eyes on you again after that. Do you understand?"

  She flinched as if I'd slapped her. "We can't have a conversation if you're unwilling to talk to me."

  "Oh, is that what you said to yourself before you went and met with my father?"

  She did that start-stop thing again before she finally spoke. "That was a mistake. But listen, Bridge, we need to talk."

  Did she think I was stupid? "No."

  My one word was final. I wasn't talking to her anymore. The chopper would take us back and forth to the city. We would work, and security would stay on her all day. Then I would pick her up and have eyes on her at all times. I was taking no chances.

  “You can't just say no. We're a team, you and I, whether you like it or not."

  "We ceased being a team when you betrayed me."

  The image of her climbing out of that limo, my father calling her back and shoving something into her hands, kept playing over and over again in my head. Liam and Ollie had picked up the folder he’d given her, along with some of her personal items from the house before they’d grabbed her, but I hadn't looked at it yet.

  Too busy kidnapping her?

  It was all such bullshit. I didn’t care what she was doing with my father.

  I'd had the idea that we could be a thing, that we could be real, but that was all bullshit now. She was just another way to be controlled by the old man. And that wasn't happening. I'd been burned before, and I had ignored all of the signs. I wasn't letting that happen again. "You have everything you need here. If there's anything else you need, make a list. I'll have someone pick it up."

  "Bridge!" She shoved to her feet. "You cannot do this. I'm not a child."

  And there it was. I couldn't help my gaze drifting down her body, but I quickly forced my eyes back to hers. "I'm aware of that. But I want you to be aware that your every move is being tracked and by someone far less friendly than me. Your little stunt put us all in danger. You only think about yourself. This time it was just about you betraying me, but imagine you vanish… What happens to your mum? What if you pull a stunt and Middleton thinks you’ve run to her?”

  She paled. “I would never do anything to endanger her.”

  “And you think jumping into bed with my father doesn’t qualify?”

  She licked her lips. "I didn't think—I'm your wife. You said it yourself. You love me."

  "Well, I loved who I thought you were. Lucky for me, I don't love you anymore."

  Again, she flinched. "No, you’re running again. This whole thing, this argument, we both messed up. I'm not going to…"

  I turned around as she was still talking. It was rude, dismissive, and purposeful.

  “Turn around. Look at me. You cannot just walk away."

  But I kept walking, forcing one foot in front of the other until I was at the door.

  "Bridge, do not do this. Do not—"

  I forced myself to turn the knob and then stepped out in the hallway and closed the door behind me.

  I was not letting her into my heart again. Not now. Not ever.

  Four

  Emma

  I waited for Bridge to return, weakly treading on the plush carpet as I paced back and forth, hoping and praying he would come back. Needing him to come back so I could explain, so that I could say something, anything, to make this right and fix things between us. But he didn't return for over twenty-four hours. Someone came and left me food, some water, and a bottle of wine, but none of that was what I needed right now. I needed Bridge.

  Way to make good choices.

  There was no clock in the room, so I had no idea what time it was and I didn't have my phone. But from the pitch-black night outside, it was late. What was it, nine? Ten? After midnight?

  A loud rap on my door had me reaching for the bottle of wine as a weapon. It wasn't the best choice, but at least it was heavy.

  I raised it up to my shoulder and bent my knees. When the door opened, I was unsure if I should throw it or wield it like a cricket bat and charge.

  But instead of some hulking, faceless security guard, it was Bridge, wearing no shirt and pajama pants. I slowly lowered the bottle of wine as he stared at me.

  “No one is going to hurt you.”

  I breathed a shuddering sigh of relief. "How was I supposed to know that?"

  His brow furrowed. "I'm trying to keep you safe, not hurt you. Also trying to keep you away from dear old dad."

  “You have a funny way of showing it."

  "I kidnapped you for your own safety because, apparently, you can't be trusted to not walk into dangerous situations. You can't be trusted at all."

  I scowled at him. "Bridge, you have to talk to me."

  "No, I don't. Are you ready for bed?"

  I glanced down at the pajamas that had been brought for me earlier. I had brushed my teeth after I'd eaten. And since I didn't have any books or anything else to occupy my mind, I was more than ready for bed.

  “I guess so."

  He nodded. “The guards are on rotation on the outside of the property, so we’re alone. I can't trust you not to leave, so…" He pulled out a pair of handcuffs.

  I backed away. "No, you are not chaining me to the bed."

  His brow furrowed. "Not my plan, but thanks for giving me some ideas for later. I'm not chaining you to the bed."

  He cuffed his own wrist and then reached for me.

  When he cuffed my opposite wrist, I glowered at him. "You cannot possibly mean to handcuff us together to sleep, do you, Bridge?"

  "I'm sorry, Ems. I can’t trust you.”

  I opened my mouth then closed it. "I'm supposed to run. I've been kidnapped."

  “I told you it’s protective custody.”

  "This isn't protecting. I don't want to be here, Bridge."

  "Well, that makes two of us. Consider me kidnapped as well."

  “Says the man holding me hostage.”

  "You know, technically speaking, it was Liam and Ollie who kidnapped you, but sure, I'll take responsibility."

  "You are insane. Bridge, you can't expect me to sleep with you attached to me." Also, the man was shirtless, wearing gray pajama pants that put my favorite toy on display.

  "You can choose to sleep, or you can choose to not sleep. You have a full day at work tomorrow, so I suggest you rest."

  "You were serious about letting me go to work?"

  "Yes, Ems. Since you made the choice that you don't want to be sent to the Winston Isles, and since I can't trust you to stay in the Winston Isles if I send you there, I decided we are going to have to keep up with the usual routine. If you stop going to work, that will turn Middleton’s attention where we don’t want it. You understand?"

  I swallowed hard. He had a point there.
Middleton would think I’d done a runner if I flew the coop. Besides, Bridge and the lads were still my best shot at vengeance for Toby. I was stuck with him, like it or not. "But you're chaining me to yourself so you can sleep?"

  "Last night I had more guards. Tonight, I don't want to risk waking up and have you not be here. I'll worry. You’ve already proven yourself adept at slipping your guard."

  My heart did a little flutter, and I tried to shove it down.

  This motherfucker kidnapped you. Grow some balls. Or at least stop thinking with your clit.

  I frowned. "This isn't going to happen the way you think, Bridge."

  He pinched the bridge of his nose and looked away from me. "I promise that touching you is the last thing on my mind. It's the last thing I could possibly want now."

  I winced. "Wow, maybe next time state that clearly and effectively."

  He turned and glowered at me. "So you want me to touch you?"

  Flustered, I sputtered. "No, I… That's not what I said."

  He shrugged. "Either you're afraid and you don't want me to touch you, or you're not afraid and you want me to touch you."

  When he said it like that, none of it made any sense. "No, it’s just that you and I, we, have a lot to talk about."

  He interrupted, and his voice took on an icy chill. "Do you plan on telling me the truth?"

  I searched his gaze. There was no way he’d believe me. I needed to sift through the information first. "Bridge, you don't understand. There are things we have to sort out."

  “There's a lot we need to sort out. For starters, what I'm going to do with you long-term. Once protective custody is over, we'll get the marriage annulled."

  Pain pinched my chest. The piercing burn was not something I’d forget, but he couldn’t be serious. "I don't care about the marriage. I do care about you, though. And you need to know…"

  He turned his brooding expression my way. There was pain and stress in his eyes that made me want to hold him, regardless of what his father had said. I wanted to wrap my arms around him and pull him tight and let him know that I was sorry and I would do anything to make him trust me again. I wished I could make it better, but I couldn't. "We need to talk, Bridge. We can't go on like this. You can't keep me here forever and not talk to me."