CAPTOR (The Alpha Brotherhood) (Standalone Dark Billionaire New Adult Romance) (18 page)

Zoey

It just popped out of my mouth. I kind of wanted to test him, I guess. Maybe I didn’t want to hear him tell me to leave.

I didn’t really think he’d let me go. No, I didn’t want him to let me go. Shane was supposed to yell, tie me up, and claim me. But here I am in the car next to him a mere 24 hours after I told him I wanted to leave. What a stupid fantasy.

This is for the best. It doesn’t mean he’s done with me. If anything, our relationship is actually real now. We’ve already made arrangements to go out to dinner on Friday, like a normal couple. I’ll stay at his place that night. Maybe sometimes he’ll stay at mine.

So why doesn’t this feel right? It’s going to be so weird not seeing him every day.

If he wanted me to stay in his house, he would tell me. Hell, he’d make me, that’s how he is. I don’t want to entertain the idea that it was all an illusion, that he just fucked me and faked everything else to keep me quiet. But that is a real possibility.

Shane doesn’t seem done with me. His kiss is just as passionate, if not more. He sent my pieces off to the kiln to be fired and he asked me if could have the vase he rescued, my favorite and my best work aside from the pieces I’ve sold. I told him he could keep it and we made love again. He made sure my house was professionally cleaned and he’s officially trying to find Daniela. I actually have his cell phone number now. I even called him when we were still at home to see if he’d answer.

Did I just call his house my home? Oh, my God, get a grip! This guy lives in a different world than I do, I’ve just been on vacation.

I really am counting my blessings. I didn’t get killed. I still have my savings account. The job I actually liked at the gallery is still there just like Shane said it would be, I already talked to my boss about putting me on the schedule next week. Quitting school doesn’t seem real, but that part was inevitable. At least my GPA isn’t in the toilet. I can always start over.

Most importantly, I’m not a virgin anymore and I have an incredibly hot boyfriend. He’s rich too, but that part doesn’t really matter to me. It is a part of who he is though, right down to his core. I wonder how that will work out in the real world.

I kind of feel like a celebrity when we pull up to my apartment building. The little old lady that lives above me is looking out her window. Shane calls his security team one more time and tells them to leave.

“I’ll see you on Friday,” he says, checking his phone instead of looking at me.

“Aren’t you going to come up?”

“No. I’ve spent half of the week buried in your pussy, Z. To say I’m a little behind at work would be an understatement.”

“Oh.”

“Don’t pout at me,” he laughs, but there’s something off about it. “I almost sent you here in a limo, but I couldn’t do it.”

“Well, thanks for the personal escort,” I reply, doing my best to give him an authentic smile. “I’m going to miss you.”

“I’ll miss you, too.” Then why is he barely looking at me? This sucks.

“Call me tonight?”

“If I get a chance,” he says, obviously eager to leave.

My stomach sinks. I can’t even get a promise for a phone call. But I do get a kiss, a good one, and by the time I’m walking up the front steps listening to his car pull away I feel a lot better. Okay, I feel a teensy tiny little bit better.

He really went overboard replacing my wardrobe, I’m totally going to get mugged if I carry some of these purses or wear these shoes. All my kitchen stuff is brand new, too, and he replaced my smashed television with a huge one that practically takes up an entire wall of the living room.

Everything will get stolen if I let Daniela move back in. That’s part of the reason I asked Shane to track her down. The locks might be changed, but if she shows up on my doorstep, I’ll break down and let her in. Especially if she’s got a big belly.

What am I thinking? It seems like forever, but it’s been less than a month. She’s not showing yet, she probably looks exactly the same. And I grew a spine being with Shane. That bitch almost got me raped and murdered. Fuck her. She’s on her own.

I open my fridge to find a jar of homemade applesauce and my heart melts. It’s not over between us, not even close. It’ll just be different. Normal. And we’ll find out if we’re actually a good fit for each other or if we were just reacting to the crazy circumstances.

I pull on the least extravagant of my new winter coats and take a walk. I don’t care if it’s freezing out. I’ve been trapped inside long enough and it will only be a few weeks before the real cold sets in and I’m stuck indoors again.

My first decision as a free human being is between a hot dog and a beef sandwich at Nicky’s on my way to the train. The beef sandwich wins. Deep dish pizza is definitely on the menu for dinner tonight. Shane only likes rich people food. I still can’t believe he’s a gardener, that is so cute.

“Doors closing.”

It’s been a while since I heard that and I can’t help but smile. Maybe I did want my life back. This is who I am. The screech of the train against the rails is bringing it all back. So are the common people around me. I might not know them, but I’m still one of them. Just another girl from a rough neighborhood with a sad story, trying to keep out of trouble and get ahead.

All three of my pieces sold at that gallery show I missed and a $450 check is waiting for me when I get there. It’s too good to be true, I’ve never made that much. The owner explains that the show got picked up by the newspaper, but the possibility that Shane bought them just to make my day crosses my mind, so I check the receipts. They’re all from before I told him about it. And someone wants to see more of my work, they even left me their name and number.

Real life isn’t so bad after all.

But I miss Shane terribly when I get back to my empty apartment. Binge eating pizza doesn’t really help, satisfying as it is. I wonder why I never asked him to bring me some. In retrospect, he would have. It was just so difficult to push my pride down. I’m so tempted to call him, but I don’t think I’ll be able to handle the rejection if he doesn’t answer.

They’re still talking about Marlowe’s arrest on the news. Am I selfish for wishing that never happened? If his soldiers were still on the streets fighting for territory, I’d be with Shane tonight. Although, maybe not. Before I finally gave in to him, he worked late all the time and he has taken the last three days off. Hopefully he’s given his brother Maddox some form of an apology, or as close to it as he’s actually capable of. It’s possible he doesn’t really think of them as family, though. That is such a bizarre situation. I want to know more, but how do I ask? I don’t want to get into my messy past. I’m sure Shane wants to forget it all, too.

But that’s probably not going to be easy for him now. It’s entirely possible that he went to see Adam today instead of working. Or that he’s trying to independently locate the three more “batches” of boys being brainwashed out there. I think about kids stuck in group homes all the time, especially the younger ones that were just coming in as I was leaving. They’re still sleeping there tonight. It’s such an awful, helpless feeling. I guess Shane can actually do something about it, though.

Okay, between this line of thinking and the news, I’m going to get totally depressed. Shane got cable TV for me, which I’ve never had in my life, so I have a zillion new channels to discover. Before I know it, I look at the clock and find that it’s midnight and my phone never rang. I guess he didn’t get a chance to call, which he said was a possibility. Still, I slink off to bed defeated and uneasy.

My room feels different. I guess it is, the walls are pretty bare, but I lift up the sheet and find that he’s replaced the thin springy mattress I used to have with something new and padded. I start drifting off, and suddenly remember how difficult it used to be to fall asleep. I actually felt safe in that fortress in the sky, even though I was being held captive by a madman. I never really had that kind of security before. I miss it almost as much as I miss him.

I keep my eyes shut like I always used to when I’m shaken awake by little noises. It’s never really quiet in this neighborhood, there’s always cars or people on the streets. So when my mind plays a trick on me and I hear my door opening, I roll over and ignore it.

Then I see a man’s shadow move across the wall, fleetingly illuminated by headlights driving by. I freeze, my body tensing up as I listen to his footsteps get closer. I keep some pepper spray wedged between my bed and the wall for just such an occasion, but it’s not here. Shit. Those thugs probably took it when they destroyed the place. By the time I sit up in bed, the intruder is already in my bedroom. I don’t even get a chance to call out for help before his gloved hand covers my mouth.

I elbow him in the stomach as he drags me out of bed, but it’s like hitting a wall, he barely buckles forward. His hand pulls away and my mouth opens to scream, but he shoves something hard and round between my lips. I bite down on the rubbery surface and try to widen my jaw, but I can’t get it out of my mouth.

My pulse spikes and my hands instantly move to my face, but he jerks them away as I feel a strap pull taut across my cheeks. I kick and thrash, but he quickly binds my hands behind my back and ties my feet together. Then the world goes black as a piece of fabric slides over my eyes.

This is not happening.

My screams are muffled, my body bucking uncontrollably, but it’s useless and I’m lifted into the air all but immobilized. Something firm connects with my stomach and there’s more heat on one side of my body than the other as he locks an arm behind my knees. He threw me over his shoulder.

My face bounces against his back as he runs down the stairs. The freezing night air assaults my skin through my flimsy pajamas, especially on the small of my back and my bare feet. I land painfully on my side, knocking the wind out of me. I can’t breathe through my mouth and my head is pounding as I struggle to take in enough air. If I start to cry, I’ll suffocate.

My eyelids flutter in the darkness and I hear the sound of a door slamming next to me. No, above me. It gets quiet and I drag my fingers across the floor. It’s carpeted. I’m in the trunk of a car.

The engine roars to life, sending vibrations through my body as I struggle to free my hands. We drive away, the inertia rolling me forward as he picks up speed. I bounce into the air when he hits a big bump, landing with my bad wrist curled the wrong way. My stifled screech echoes in my head, but I manage to twist it back into a better position. I decide it’s better not to risk trying to get them free, focusing my attention on my feet instead.

I have a long time to work on it. Eventually the ride becomes smoother and my breathing slows. I drag my face back and forth against the carpet, finally getting the blindfold to slide up to my forehead. It’s a marginal improvement, there’s barely any light at all, just a thin line of an orange glow at the seam of the trunk. My eyes grow accustomed to the darkness and I strain my neck to look around for anything that might help me, but find I’m the only cargo in here.

We drive for hours. It’s so cold, I’m shivering uncontrollably as my jaw tries to chatter around the gag. But I don’t give up easily, finally managing to slide one foot out of the restraints. It won’t do me much good now, but when that trunk opens I’ll be able to see and run. Hopefully after I kick the sick motherfucker right in the gut.

Unless we’ve been driving in circles there’s no way we’re still in the city, which means I’ll be running into the freezing night in the woods or a cornfield. Maybe I’ll get lucky and wind up in a subdivision, but that’s typically not where you go when you shove someone in your trunk.

The car slows down dramatically and turns. I use the momentum to reposition my body so that I’m turned with my feet facing outwards and lying on my back with my knees curled to my chest, ready to kick. The pressure on my bound hands is agonizing and I’m seconds away from deciding to roll back over when the car’s engine cuts off.

It seems like an eternity, but I finally hear a door open and slam shut. The car beeps and the trunk pops open slightly. Holding my breath, I watch his fingers reach beneath it and pull it completely open.

I kick with both feet using every ounce of strength I have, screaming as my teeth bite down on the rubber ball jammed in my mouth. I get the bastard right in the face and he goes down hard. Holy shit. That went way better than I thought it would.

My lucky stars are spinning around that fucker’s head as he groans on the ground. Gravel digs into the soles of my feet when I roll out of the trunk as my kidnapper attempts to rise up to his knees. I take off like a bat out of hell in the opposite direction of the house we’re parked in front of. That’s where I was going to get tortured to death, not where I’ll find a friendly farmer who will let me use the phone.

It is not easy to run with your arms tied behind your back, it throws your balance totally off. And getting enough air when you can only breathe through your nose is a real pain in the ass. But such is life at this moment. There are trees on both sides of the long driveway, but I see a paved road ahead.

I finally get there, my heart pounding as I look both ways. Yup. Middle of fucking nowhere, just like I thought. We turned right when we came in, so that might be the direction to run toward civilization. Or could be the opposite because he drove in the back way so he’d be less likely to be seen. Or I could hide in the trees, but I’ll never make it through the night, it’s too cold.