by Sweet, Izzy
Shit.
Even though I’m not his type, I’m a blonde not a brunette, James wants something from me. Something so important, he’s determined to keep me ‘safe’ until he has it.
Whether it’s my life itself or information, I don’t know.
All I know is that I don’t have the strength, power, or experience to resist him.
Even now, I feel weak just trying to imagine resisting him if he touches me again. And if he’s still wearing that suit he left in… God help me.
It should be considered a sin for a man like James to wear a suit like that.
And if he kisses me…
Fuck, if he kisses me…
I’m doomed if I don’t find a way to get out before he gets back.
My panic now a living, breathing thing, I run around the house like a madwoman, checking all the doors and windows.
Only to find them all locked and sealed tight.
On the verge of giving up, I pound my fist against the window in his bedroom.
Then I remember the meat tenderizer.
Running back downstairs, I find the same mallet he used to shatter my phone in the kitchen sink. Like some crazed serial killer, I heft it up, getting a feel for it in my hand, and stalk toward the front window.
Mitzy follows behind me and barks at me like she knows exactly what I plan on doing.
“Stay back, I don’t want you to get hurt,” I warn her.
Frantically, she yips and barks. So agitated, she’s practically bouncing in place as she yells at me.
Ignoring her, I put both hands on the tenderizer, pull my arms back, then swing.
The tenderizer hits the window with a loud crack and the vibration travels all the way up to my teeth.
But the window doesn’t break.
The glass cracks, filling with thin spiderwebs, but the place I hit remains solid. The glass in that spot turning white, as if it suddenly frosted.
I stare at the window for a second in disbelief.
Then I lift the tenderizer, pull my arms back, and whack the fucker again.
More cracks spread through the glass and the round spot of impact becomes more opaque, but the window holds, refusing to shatter.
“What the fuck?!” I screech.
Desperate to be free, I whack at the window until it feels like my arms are going to fall off.
No matter how hard I hit it though, or where I hit it, I can’t break through.
Sweaty, tired, and on the verge of tears, I toss the mallet away and drop to my knees. Grabbing at my head, I try to calm down and think.
There has to be a way out of here…
There has to be.
The doors are locked. The windows are made of a glass that refuses to break.
He mentioned something about Tom Sawyer… but that’s in the basement.
Fuck.
“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!”
The asshole totally locked me in a cage.
Rocking back and forth, I yank on my own hair, wishing I could wrap my hands around James’s neck and squeeze. Squeeze and choke the life out of him for doing this to me.
For trapping me.
For taking advantage of me.
For making me want him.
What if there’s a fire?
What if Mitzy has to pee?
He would think of those things, wouldn’t he?
But maybe it completely slipped his mind…
Maybe he didn’t think that far ahead before he left.
And maybe if I call him, maybe if I ask him to open the door for Mitzy, he’ll unlock it.
Calming myself a little, I take a few deep breaths and decide to use that little touch screen he pointed out to call him.
Pulling my hands out of my hair, I straighten and rise to my feet. Little Mitzy follows behind me as I walk back to the door that leads to the garage.
After examining the little touch screen for a couple of seconds, I push around on it, trying to cycle through the options.
Everything is grayed out though, except for the current status, which reads Locked Down in red, and the white Call Contacts.
No matter how many times I mash my finger against the red Locked Down or any of the other grayed-out options, nothing happens.
Giving up, I push on the contacts and scan over the brief list.
Lucifer.
Simon.
Oscar.
Jude.
James.
For a second, I’m tempted, very tempted, to push on Lucifer’s name and go straight to the source.
He’s truly the reason for all of this shit, and he’s known for making deals, hence his name.
But what do I have to offer him? I don’t even know what they want!
Deciding James himself is my best way out of this, I press on his name.
The touch pad rings a couple of times, like it’s a phone, then James’s voice comes through.
“Missing me already?” he asks with a touch of laughter in his voice.
“Not in the least!” I nearly shriek, immediately forgetting I need to play nice if I want this to work.
James chuckles as if he doesn’t believe me. “Then why are you calling me? I haven’t been gone five minutes…”
Biting back the urge to tell him to stay gone, I grit out, “I think Mitzy needs to pee.”
“And?” James asks, and I swear I hear him yawning.
Is he purposely trying to piss me off again?
I take a deep breath to calm myself.
If he’s going to believe me, I must stay calm.
“I need you to unlock the door so I can take her out,” I say.
Sounding a little suspicious, James says, “Oh? She knows how to get out if she needs to.”
Dammit. That’s exactly the last thing I want to hear.
I almost groan. “She does?”
“Yes. I would never leave my princess in such a predicament,” James says, clearly offended now. “The back door has a doggy door for her. Why are you really calling, Sophia?”
I guess it’s time to cut all the bullshit and just say it. “Unlock the door, James.”
His answer is firm and immediate. “No.”
“Let me out! Unlock the damn door!” I yell at him.
Again, he says, “No.”
“What if there’s a fire, huh?” I challenge. “What if Fluffers has to pee or poop? We didn’t bring a litter box for her.”
I know, I just know, he’s wearing an annoying smirk because I can hear it in his voice as he says, “Our house is equipped with a state-of-the-art emergency system. If there’s a fire or another disaster, there are systems in place to protect you. Plus, I will immediately be alerted. You have nothing to worry about.”
Damn him. Just… damn him.
“What about Fluffers, huh? You going to leave her to suffer? Does my cat not matter as much as your dog?”
“She matters,” James says then sighs. “I’m sorry about the lack of litter box, it can’t be helped right now. If she has an accident or something, I’ll deal with it and clean it up. On my way home, I’ll stop and pick up a litter box and stuff for her.”
“Just unlock the door and I’ll deal with it right now,” I say, trying my best to keep my desperation out of my voice.
“No,” James says quickly and firmly again.
So quick and firm, I want to fucking scream.
I start to argue, “But—”
He cuts me off, quickly talking over me. “This meeting shouldn’t take too long. I’ll be home before you know it. Try not to miss me too much.”
Then he hangs up on me.
I stare at the touch screen in disbelief.
He really hung up on me, just like that.
And he’s not going to unlock the door.
He’s going to keep me trapped in his house like a cruel prison warden.
My anger rising and getting the best of me, I begin to contemplate paying him back some way.
He seemed so proud of this plac
e when I was getting a feel for the layout. His chest puffing out with that cocky smile on his lips.
Perhaps I should destroy his shit…
Imagining the look on his face when he comes back and finds everything wrecked has me heading for the meat tenderizer again.
After all, he’s destroyed all my things…
My phone.
My freedom.
My sanity.
It’s only fair, isn’t it?
I bend down to grab the tenderizer and something cold and wet bumps against my arm.
I glance to the side in surprise to see Mitzy peering intently at me. When she sees she has my attention, she starts to whine.
“What is it?” I ask.
I don’t know why she’s taken to me. I’ve done very little to encourage it. I’ve been too busy stuck in my own head or dealing with James to give her any real attention. But ever since she jumped into my lap and snuggled up to Fluffers and me, she’s been glued to my side.
Choosing me over him.
She whines again and starts pawing at my arm.
I shouldn’t feel the need to explain myself to a dog, a dog that’s not even mine, but I do.
“He deserves it,” I tell her.
Mitzy doesn’t agree or disagree with me, she just peers at me with those big black eyes of hers, judging me again.
I feel a twinge of guilt, just a twinge, then I shake my head at the silliness of it.
I’m letting a dog get to me like she even understands what I plan on doing.
Gently I shake her off my arm and fully straighten.
Then I start to march toward the kitchen, purposely ignoring her.
I make it three steps before I hear a low growl and something tugs at my legging.
“What the—”
I stop and glance down to see Mitzy snarling with my legging clamped between her teeth.
“Mitzy, stop that!” I command and give my leg a little shake, trying to get her off without hurting her.
Mitzy growls louder and starts to shake her head back and forth, the little pink bow in her hair swaying.
“Mitzy, stop!” I yelp and resist the urge to kick her off, her sudden aggression freaking me out. “He totally deserves it and you know it!”
Mitzy gives one more loud growl then she jumps back and starts barking at me.
I swear she’s telling me off.
And dammit, it’s working.
That twinge of guilt returns, making me question what I’m doing.
Am I not being a little psycho? I think as Mitzy barks at me.
Will messing his house up do me any favors? Or will it give him even more reason to make me miserable?
“What am I supposed to do then, huh?” I ask, on the verge of tears. “Am I supposed to roll over and let him walk all over me? Am I supposed to just accept this?”
As if she understands me, Mitzy’s barking slows then comes to a complete stop.
I find myself waiting for a few seconds, waiting for her, a dog, to give me the answer.
When she only stares at me, I make a sound of disgust at myself.
That’s it, it’s official. I’ve completely lost it.
Defeated, a wave of exhaustion rolls over me, and the tenderizer almost drops from my hand.
Tightening my grip, I swallow back the nearly overwhelming feeling of helplessness and turn away from Mitzy.
When she starts barking and chasing after me again, I stop just long enough to snap at her, “I’m not going to mess anything up. I’m going to bed.”
Mitzy quiets, silently following behind me as I walk to the kitchen. Dropping the tenderizer in the sink, I head upstairs.
She doesn’t make a peep until we reach the upper landing. Barking at me as I head for the guest bedroom.
“What?” I ask. “Am I not allowed to sleep now? Must I stay awake and eagerly await his return?”
She barks one more time at me then walks over to the door leading to James’s bedroom.
“Uh-uh. No way,” I tell her. “I’m not sleeping in there.”
Mitzy barks at me again, clearly agitated, and it dawns on me that maybe she just wants me to open the door for her so she can go to her own bed.
Sighing, I walk up to the door to James’s room and open it for her.
Suddenly excited, Mitzy gives me a little yip then she darts in.
I pause for a moment, wondering if I should close the door again or leave it open so she can get out if she needs to. Deciding it’s probably best to leave it open, I walk back to the guest bedroom.
Mitzy runs out of James’s room and starts barking at me again.
“Good grief,” I groan. “I told you, I’m not sleeping in there.”
Growling, Mitzy lunges for my leg but I manage to jump out of reach just in time.
“Mitzy!” I squeal. “What the hell?”
Yipping at me, she circles around me, then lunges again.
I jump back and tell her to, “Stop. Please. Dammit, Mitzy, stop!”
Not realizing as she keeps growling and lunging at me that she’s purposely maneuvering me into his room until it’s too late.
Once she has me nearly to his closet, she darts around me and disappears inside it.
Afraid she might run back out and start attacking me again, I book it for the door, totally planning on slamming it behind me.
Then she starts barking again.
There’s an urgency in the way she barks this time, an urgency that calls out to me. Like she’s trying to alert me to something.
My curiosity getting the better of me, I hesitate at the doorway then decide to take a little peek to make sure she’s okay before I leave and lock her in.
The first thing I notice once I step inside and flip on the light is that James has an enormous closet, but it’s only half full.
And not half full in the way that he doesn’t have enough stuff to fill it. No, one side of it is completely empty. Like maybe someone’s stuff was there but now it’s gone.
My stomach sinks at the sight of it.
Did he have a girlfriend that lived with him? I don’t remember seeing anything about it in his folder, but I didn’t see anything in there about this house, either.
Mitzy keeps barking, her barks becoming more urgent.
Shoving away the sinking feeling, I start to push through his many suits and shirts to reach her.
I find her in the very back corner, barking at a white cardboard box on the floor.
“What’s wrong?” I ask as I squat down beside her. “Is there a mouse or something?”
Fluffers always yowls at me when she finds a mouse instead of taking care of it herself.
Mitzy barks and nudges the box with her nose.
Thinking she wants me to move it, I pick it up and look for whatever was hiding behind it.
But the spot is completely empty.
There’s only a rectangle of dust on the hardwood floor from where the box was sitting.
With a scowl, I look back at Mitzy and say, “There’s nothing there…”
She starts barking again at the box that’s now in my hands.
“Is it in the box?” I ask, hoping I’m wrong.
Mitzy pauses for a second then she yips happily as if she’s saying yes.
“Shit!” I yelp as I toss the box to the side, afraid a mouse is going to jump out at me.
The box hits the wall and the lid slides off as it falls to the floor.
A dozen or so photos tumble out as I scramble back.
My heart racing, I keep expecting a mouse to jump out of the box, but nothing happens.
Excited now, Mitzy yips at the photos on the floor.
Tearing my eyes away from the box, I look at her, ready to tell her off for scaring me like that, then blink in surprise.
Not believing what I’m seeing, I grab the closest photo and hold it up to the light. Then the next. And the next. Until I have them all in my hands.
Her mission accomplished, Mitzy quiets
as I stare at the photos in shocked disbelief.
No matter how many times I blink or close my eyes though they don’t change.
They’re all pictures of me…
9
James
Walking into Lucifer’s office, I smirk when I see I’m the first to arrive. “Where’s the Spider?”
“A doctor’s appointment, I believe, with Meredith,” Lucifer says then gestures for me to take a seat. “He’ll be along shortly.”
Nodding my head, I take off my jacket and toss it onto the chair Simon always sits in before sitting down. “How’s the kids?”
“Very good. Spring soccer for Evie, and Adam has decided he’s ready to skip another grade,” Lucifer says with a smile.
I let out a low whistle. “Damn, I guess brains really do run in the family.”
“They assuredly do,” he agrees then leans forward. “James, will your dear brother be hearing the sounds of small feet pitter-pattering around your home soon?”
I roll my eyes at him. He only calls me that shit when it’s just us, and he only does it to get under my skin.
“Nah, I got a vasectomy back when I was over in Kuwait,” I say with a grin.
Eyes widening in anger, he almost snarls. “You what?”
I shrug my shoulders at him. “No need for kids when I can play uncle to yours and Meredith’s.”
“James,” Lucifer says quietly.
“Matthew,” I say just as quietly and smirk at him. “You tell sis that she’s got a bastard brother yet?”
“I… No, I have not. And I do believe…” he says before I wave him off.
“Don’t tell her and don’t let Simon.” At his scowl, I raise my hands up in a placating manner. “Don’t worry, I don’t want to succeed. There will be no fratricide here. No fucking Cain and Abel. This bastard doesn’t want the Devil’s throne.”
“Truly?” Lucifer leans back with a smirk of his own. His eyes filling with that twinkle he gets sometimes right before he blows the back of someone’s head out.
Or when he sees Evie score a soccer goal.
“Why would I?” I stretch up to yawn, listening as my spine pops.
“No aspirations of something bigger and better?” he asks.
“I own roughly twenty-eight million in property. My liquid assets are even more. I like my job, I like my house, and I like you being the target of so many people’s anger.” I grin at him.