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Archer grabbed her by the arm at first, but he switched his grip to her hair instead. Felicity tripped on a rock and tumbled to the ground. Her knees scraped against it as Archer dragged her back into the house, her hair fisted in his hand. She scrambled to keep her skin from getting roughed up, but it was no use. He was far too strong.
“Let go of me. I’ll walk. I swear I won’t try to get away again. Please...You’re hurting me,” Felicity said.
“If you’d cooperated and written the story like you were supposed to, this would all be over.”
“I’d never betray Niall. I’d never out his clan.”
It made her sick that all Archer wanted was to make money, bringing tourists to the island to gawk at the púca. She felt dizzy again, and figured it was probably a concussion. Felicity felt bloody lucky that getting hit in the head by the rock hadn’t killed her.
Archer’s mouth twisted into a cruel smile. “Did you bang that thing, that beast...?” He bent down until he was at her eye level. “Caitlyn and Dillon told me you were his mate. You disgust me. Tell me, did he shag you doggy style? Wait—he’s a horse. So you’re like Catherine the Great, and it takes shagging a horse to turn you on.”
Heat rushed to Felicity’s face. She slapped him, hard.
“You bitch!” Archer yanked her up by the hair. She stumbled behind him as he opened the kitchen door. Dillon was still passed out from drinking too much whiskey and quite oblivious when they walked in. Archer pulled out the chair across from Dillon and shoved her into it.
“She didn’t fuck a horse, you idiot.”
“Excuse me?”
“Catherine the Great,” Felicity spat out. “She died of a stroke, not screwing a bloody horse, you ridiculous fool.”
Archer raised an eyebrow. “Well, aren’t you clever? Good. Don’t do anything stupid. Dillon...what’d you do with the duct tape?”
A particularly loud warthog-like snore was Dillon’s only response.
“Damn, do I have to do everything myself?”
Archer smirked at her shoeless feet and headed toward the bedroom, probably searching for the duct tape. He must have thought she wouldn’t dare try to get away, assuming she wouldn’t get very far across the harsh gravel driveway and rough terrain without her boots. But a few scrapes was better than being dead. She’d push herself to run faster than she ever had. Archer had clearly underestimated her. She would do whatever it took to get the bloody hell out of here. There was no telling when Niall would find her, and she could be dead by then. She didn’t know Archer’s intentions, and she didn’t want to find out, either.
Archer came back, duct tape in hand, and leaned over her. “Hold out your wrists,” he said.
Right. If you’re going to do something, you’d better do it now.
She held out her wrists, feigning obedience. When he pulled the end of the duct tape, ready to immobilize her all over again, Felicity kicked him as hard as she could in the bollocks. Despite her lack of shoes, she still managed quite a blow. Archer doubled over, howling in pain. His shrieking was loud enough that Dillon rose from his slumber. Felicity bolted. The kitchen door opened onto a patio off the side of the house. The door slammed shut behind her as she raced outside, but as she looked over her shoulder, she saw Archer. He was red in the face and holding his balls as he lumbered after her.
“Go after her!” Archer yelled at Dillon.
Dillon hadn’t fully recovered from his drunken stupor. He wobbled from side to side as he attempted to catch up.
“The other way around the house, damn you,” Archer bellowed.
Felicity ran at full speed. She’d heard Archer send Dillon to circle around the other side of the house, which left her only one direction to run. The problem was that the house was situated near a western cliff, looking out over the Atlantic. Whoever had built it had done so to take advantage of the rather spectacular—and treacherous—view. She had nowhere else to go. When she’d tried to escape before, Dillon had been passed out. With him circling around, she was effectively trapped.
She wasn’t far from the edge when she stopped running and turned to face her opponents. There was no other choice.
Archer was ten paces from her and showed no signs of stopping. Her only option was to use his momentum against him. He kept coming at her, and she lifted her chin and stood her ground. Let him think her plan was to put up a fight. When he reached for her, she dodged out of the way, and Archer tumbled over the cliff into the Atlantic.
Dillon had finally made it around the other side of the house. He stopped half-way between it and where Felicity stood at the edge of the cliff. His mouth dropped open, but he promptly closed it. “Do you realize what you’ve done?”
Felicity’s heart pounded.
“He was my ticket off this island!” His face turned beet-red. “Yer going to pay for that.”
She imagined steam coming out of his ears. Crap. Crap. Crap. No. Crap.
There really was nowhere to go, and her only way out was past an angry man who would probably kill her for the large sum of money Archer had promised to pay to him and Caitlyn.
No help for it really.
Felicity barrelled to the side and forward. Charging past Dillon was her only possible escape route. He careened toward her and punched her in the face. She’d never been punched before. William had been a prick, but he’d never laid a finger on her. It stunned her. Felicity fell to the ground.
Dillon began kicking her, and there was a sickening crack. She knew he’d broken one of her ribs when she realized she couldn’t breathe. It didn’t matter that she couldn’t fight anymore. He kept kicking her anyway. Then he did the unthinkable. He knelt next to her, picking up a stone, and started hitting her with it. There was a sharp stabbing pain in her chest, but the only thing she could think of was that she’d never told Niall that she loved him. He’d said it a million times, as a nickname of sorts, but she hadn’t been brave enough to let go of the past. Felicity hadn’t allowed herself to feel what she’d known in her gut since the night she first saw him sitting at the bar in the pub.
He was the one.
And now he’d never know it.
