Taking Meghan: A Dark Romance (Disciples Book 5)

  TAKING MEGHAN

  DISCIPLES 5

  IZZY SWEET

  SEAN MORIARTY

  Copyright © 2019 by Izzy Sweet and Sean Moriarty

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Published by Izzy Sweet and Sean Moriarty

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2019 Izzy Sweet & Sean Moriarty

  Created with Vellum

  About this book

  Alexei Rastov is the most vile, evil, despicable man in the world...

  And my father tried to force me to marry him.

  Dragged down the aisle, I prayed to God, to anyone, to save me from a lifetime of cruelty and abuse.

  Then he came... a force of nature...

  Disrupting the ceremony with a storm of gunfire and death.

  Massive, powerful, and handsome, the enemy of my enemy has promised me his protection if I agree to give myself to him.

  But sometimes the devil you know is safer than the dark angel who wants you in his bed...

  CONTENTS

  Prologue

  1. Gabriel

  2. Meghan

  3. Meghan

  4. Gabriel

  5. Meghan

  6. Gabriel

  7. Meghan

  8. Meghan

  9. Meghan

  10. Gabriel

  11. Gabriel

  12. Gabriel

  13. Meghan

  14. Meghan

  15. Gabriel

  16. Meghan

  17. Gabriel

  18. Meghan

  19. Gabriel

  20. Meghan

  21. Gabriel

  22. Meghan

  Epilogue

  Playlists

  Sean’s Acknowledgements

  Izzy’s Acknowledgements

  Stalk Us

  About Us

  Also by Izzy and Sean

  Preview: Keeping Lily (Disciples 1)

  Prologue

  Meghan

  One month ago

  Bethlehem

  “I take it you called me here because everything went off as planned?” a smooth Russian voice drifts into the hallway outside my father’s office.

  My father is so confident, so fucking brazen, he didn’t even bother to close the door. No, it sits wide open, allowing anyone and everyone walking by to overhear. He either has supreme faith in our household’s devotion and loyalty, or he’s grown stupider and stupider over the years.

  I’m inclined to believe the latter.

  “Yes. The target, Lucky Tails, is…” My father pauses. There’s a metallic clink followed by the unmistakable sound of a lighter being sparked. “No more.”

  “Good… good.” The Russian chuckles and then the old, stiff leather of my father’s chair creaks. Someone inhales and exhales. “Any notable causalities?”

  A wispy white cloud of smoke floats out of the room.

  The lighter clinks shut and my father seems to hesitate before reluctantly admitting, “Only our inside contact.”

  “I trust you’re taking care of that?”

  Again, my father hesitates, and it gives me great joy to know it pains him to admit his failures.

  “My men are on it. Her house is being dealt with as we speak.”

  Her?

  “Very good,” the Russian says, sounding pleased, and then there’s a long moment of silence.

  I shift uncomfortably on my feet and glance down the hallway, my ears straining. If any of my father’s staff catches me eavesdropping on him, I’ll be beaten and locked inside my room for the next twenty years.

  But I need to know why my father called me home from school. I need to know why he’s locked me up in this house. Why he won’t let me leave or contact anyone. Why all my IDs, credit cards, cash, computers, and phones have been confiscated…

  And I have this awful, dreadful feeling that the answer is enjoying a cigar with him in that room.

  “Alexei?” my father finally says, breaking the tense silence.

  “Yes?” the Russian drawls out.

  “I’ve fulfilled my side of the bargain…”

  “You have,” Alexei answers simply, and it’s obvious even to me that he’s playing my father like a fiddle.

  How my father retains his control over the Callahan family is a mystery even to me. I suppose most of it is due to a great deal of luck and opportunity. Most of the other Irish families in this part of the country have been wiped out by the Italians, causalities in a senseless turf war.

  There simply aren’t enough powerful men left to overthrow him.

  “I believe it’s time to take the next step and solidify our alliance.”

  An alliance between the Irish and Russians… Just the thought makes me sick to my stomach.

  What is this world coming to?

  Hasn’t there been enough death? Enough bloodshed?

  “Indeed,” Alexei says, sounding strangely pleased. “Is she here?”

  She, as in me? Fuck. I’m currently the only ‘she’ in residence. My beloved mother passed away in a car bombing a year ago. My father blamed it on the Italians, but I know deep in my heart it was the Irish, this family, that killed her. The Italians may have set the bomb, but she would have never been in any danger if it wasn’t for this damn family.

  “Yes. I called her home two weeks ago.”

  Double fuck. I wish for once in my life that my gut was wrong. Why they need me to solidify their alliance though still doesn’t make any sense.

  Unless… but no… that’s too old school and beyond archaic.

  My father is a bastard of the highest degree, but I still refuse to believe he’d force me to marry a man I don’t want to marry. There’s still a touch of decency inside him. Still a touch of compassion for the only blood he has left…

  “I trust she’s been prepared and knows what will be expected of her? I’d hate to have to break her in…”

  Even as the blood drains from my face, I can picture my father’s face flushing bright red as he sputters with indignation. “My Meghan is a fine, upstanding young lass, and would make any man proud.”

  God, what the fuck? Have I time-travelled back to the eighteenth century? This can’t be real.

  Alexei chuckles as if he finds my father’s statement amusing, and then says, “You mean my Meghan.”

  The way he says it, at first it comes off almost casual, but there’s a firmness there. Beneath the leftover amusement of his chuckle lurks something dangerous. Something that causes all the little hairs on my body to stand on end and my skin to prickle with apprehension.

  To be married to that man… to be owned by him…

  It’s simply unthinkable. I’m not a fucking object to be bargained off. I’m a person, goddammit.

  Even my father is thrown off guard by Alexei’s declaration. “Y—yes,” he stammers and clears his throat. “Of course. Your Meghan.”

  Someone inhales, then another cloud of smoke drifts into the hallway, giving this whole scene playing out in front of me a hazy, almost dream-like quality.

  Maybe I’m dreaming and this is all a nightmare.

  “That’s relieving to hear,” Alexei says after a moment. “Because my sources tell me you allowed her to move across the countr
y to attend university in California. Unchaperoned. Left to her own devices. Her young mind vulnerable to the corruption of the liberal agenda.”

  There’s this sad, almost desperate quality to my father’s voice as he rushes to explain. “It isn’t safe here. With the Italian bastards growing bolder and bolder with Lucifer’s backing, I let her go. I couldn’t risk losing her…”

  “Still, who knows what kind of thoughts have already tainted her pretty little head? I require complete and utter obedience. Anything less is simply… unacceptable.”

  “You will have it,” my father declares with entirely too much confidence.

  He’s either lying through his teeth or he truly believes it. And if he truly believes it, I don’t know what parallel universe he’s living in. I wasn’t raised to be a dutiful, submissive wife. I was raised like any other normal American child. Brought up to believe I can be anyone or anything I put my mind to if I work hard enough. My mother saw to that, God rest her soul.

  “If she gives me any trouble, any trouble at all… You understand, I’ll have to take certain unpleasant measures to ensure her complete and utter obedience and cooperation?”

  “She will not give you any trouble. She wants vengeance for her mother as much as I do.”

  So that’s what this is about? That’s why my father is willing to trade me off like I’m chattel? Vengeance?

  I hear my father huff in a deep, ragged breath before he adds defeatedly, “And she knows it’s only a matter of time before those damned Italians get me and her too…”

  The blood chills in my veins. I’ve known my father long enough to know he truly believes what he just said.

  Yet he’s never let on that I was in any danger. He let me believe he was indulging me when he approved my move to California.

  “Ah… well…” Alexei says like he’s bored and could care less. “Once I walk out of this room, that will no longer be a worry, yes? She, and by extension, you, will be under my protection.”

  “Yes… yes, yes,” my father mumbles distractedly in agreement.

  “Good. Now, where is this bride-to-be of mine? I’d like to meet her in the flesh before I depart.”

  And that’s my cue to leave. I need to find some way to get out of this house. Some way to escape before my father can force me to do this. Force me to sell myself to save us both.

  I start to slowly, quietly back away from the door before my father calls out for me, freezing me in place. “Meghan?”

  Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

  He’s not the stupid one, I am. He left that door open because he wanted me to hear. He wants me to know.

  “Meghan?” he calls out again while I hesitate, unsure what the fuck I should do. “Please come here.”

  Run… I should run. But where to?

  Every door is guarded. Every car locked. I have no money, no ID, no one I’m willing to risk putting in danger to call.

  I’m trapped like a fucking rat. Maybe earlier I could have gotten away… but not now.

  “Meghan,” my father says, growing impatient.

  There’s no doubt in my mind that he knows I’m standing right here. I’m so fucking predictable, he anticipated it.

  Dammit. I’m my own worst enemy.

  My mind races, trying to think up a way to get out of this.

  I could throw a fit. I could barge in there and declare that there’s no way, no fucking way, I’m marrying that Russian.

  But what good will that do me? My father? Anyone?

  It certainly won’t do me any favors. They’ll probably beat me or worse to get me to go along with their plan.

  The way I see it, I only have two choices. I can balk, resist, and fight—and suffer the consequences, whatever they may be.

  Or I can go along with this entire sham for the time being.

  “Meghan,” my father says more firmly, and I hear the leather of his chair creaking.

  No doubt he’s getting up to come get me.

  Mind racing, I come up with the perfect plan.

  I can let them believe I’m docile, compliant.

  Even obedient.

  Gag.

  I can be the perfect little daughter, the perfect little fiancé.

  And as soon as they’re not looking, as soon as their heads are turned the other way…

  I’ll run and never fucking look back.

  1

  Gabriel

  Staring through the windshield of Simon’s SUV, I can’t help but think that things couldn’t be looking up for me any more than they are right now. I was in prison for ten years, only to get kicked out like a fucking roach in the kitchen…

  All so I can cause some bedlam and mayhem.

  Fuck, maybe my life isn’t over just yet.

  The hum of the wheels on the asphalt feels almost like a dream, and it’s cold as fuck outside when I open the window a bit to let in some fresh air in, but damn does it feel good on my face.

  “You’ve got this car as hot as my nutsack, Simon. You roasting your little balls for the holidays?” I ask, turning toward him.

  “It’s never too late to let you walk to the truck stop,” he snarls as he leans toward his door. “Though the fresh air does help with your offending smell.”

  Asshole thinks he’d be able to get away with leaving me in his dust…

  That’s fucking doubtful. I’ll fucking kill him before he gets the chance to leave my ass to rot anywhere again.

  Lucifer asked me to take the fall for what happened ten years ago, but it doesn’t mean I’ll ever go back. Fuck that shit. I’ve had enough cramped spaces and isolation to last me a lifetime.

  “The smell’s from living in a six by eight cell with nothing but time. Fuck your delicate sensibilities,” I say as I spot the sign for the truck stop we’ll be stopping at.

  “Delicate…” Simon chuckles as he hits the blinker for us to merge off the interstate.

  “Why’d the Devil bring me out, Simon?” I ask him quietly.

  I was the sacrificial lamb. The one to take the fall for the carnage Lucifer needed.

  Lucifer said he’d get me out before I went in, but I think we both knew that wasn’t going to happen. And if that fucker, Simon, had his way, I’d still be in prison. After a couple of years, I figured Lucifer felt the same way. I mean, I’m the one who wiped out the rest of the family when he took over. Even his uncle.

  “Like I said, he wants Garden City to be brought back under his control. We’ve been hit too many times from forces outside his sphere of influence.”

  “What forces?” I ask, trying to remember exactly who the powerholders were ten years ago.

  “Like I told you earlier, the Yakuza, Russians, and Saudis, just to name a few,” Simon says with obvious annoyance as we pull into the parking lot.

  “The Saudis?” I ask with a snort, remembering he did mention them. “How the hell did Lucifer manager to piss those sand-fuckers off?”

  “He didn’t. My wife did,” Simon says as I hop out of the car.

  Looking back to the SUV, I watch as he sits there, waving me on. I guess he can’t risk contracting a cold from the truck stop.

  Fucking pussy.

  Stepping into the store, I look around and finally feel something akin to freedom. I can buy any drink I want. I can eat anything I feel like, and I don’t have to worry about some fucking guard coming in to slap his wooden baton up against my head for the hell of it.

  I slip my hand down into the bag Simon handed me when I got in his car and fish around for a wallet. Pulling it out, I open it to see what John gave me. Knowing that fucker, it probably has some chick’s driver’s license in it.

  Flipping through the wallet, though, I’m pleasantly surprised. There’s an updated driver’s license for me and a couple of brand new credit cards. That, and the thousand or so in cash, help me feel like I won’t have to be too reliant on Simon.

  * * *

  Climbing back into the SUV, I smirk as Simon looks at me in revulsion.

  �
��I thought you were going to shave the beard completely off, at least. You know, try to advance past the Neanderthal stage of your life,” he sneers at me as I close the door.

  “Nah, I think I’ll keep this scruff on a bit longer. Bugs the fuck out you, doesn’t it?” I ask with a smirk.

  “Infantile ass,” Simon mutters as he opens up his glove compartment and hands me a little black plastic thing with a glass top.

  “The fuck is this?” I ask as I look down at the screen.

  “A phone. Technology has come a long way since you went in,” he says as he pulls out of the parking lot.

  Heading back to the highway, he motions to the phone.

  “Push the button at the bottom, that pulls it out of rest. Once it’s up, the icons should be self-explanatory,” he says with a laugh, and I’m pretty damn sure it’s because of my lack of knowledge when it comes to technology.

  Pushing the button on the phone, I watch as the screen comes to life and feel as if I really am a caveman coming into the twenty-first century. I swipe where the screen says swipe and reveal what looks like a computer desktop.

  Fuck me. I guess things have come a lot further than I thought.

  “Interesting,” I say as I shove the phone into my pocket. “Where we headed?”

  “Matthew is having a little get-together to welcome you home. It should be right up your alley, if you haven’t turned into a rat while you were in prison.”

  “Yeah, yeah. Suck a dick,” I grumble and lean my head against the glass of the car door.

  Motherfucker knows I didn’t turn rat.

  Folding my arms across my chest, I slip into a slow doze as I think of the things that could be waiting for me once I get out of this car. I highly doubt it’s going to be a balloons-and-cake kind of event.

  I can feel my eyelids growing heavier as I shift enough to feel the comfortable presence of the forty-caliber pistol snuggled into my hip holster. It’s been a long time since I’ve had my little mistress at my side, and I ain’t going to lie, it’s giving me a sense of peace that helps me feel better about falling asleep.

  Violence gives me purpose, something beyond sitting in a cell block waiting for death to come. Violence gives me the power to take control of the world.