Stolen Time

by S. A. Ichigo

  Crap! Crap! Crap!

  “Morning, sunshine,” he says grinning at me. “Did you sleep well?”

  How can he just act so casual, as nothing happened? I frown and pass him a deadly look. His smile widens.

  “Are you kidding me?!” I toss. “Who the hell are you? And what have you done to me?”

  “Nothing you didn’t want me to do.” His smile widens even more. “And I slept very well, thanks for asking,” he says sarcastically, almost choking on his own laugh.

  “You perv...” I snap at him.

  “Whoa, whoa. Easy there, love.” He moves closer to me.

  “Don’t come near me.” I say. “You’ve used me!” a shiver passes through my spine.

  He laughs harshly, looking me deep in the eyes.

  “I hate to break it to you, sweetheart, but we did not have sex last night.”

  My jaw drops open. I lift my eyebrow at him and let out a breath of relief. I should be happy, but some part of me feels a little disappointed. He is hot. It wouldn’t be a sin. Focus, Mia. I scold myself.

  “We didn’t?” I ask surprised, my cheeks burning red.

  He’s studying my face. I can’t read anything from his expression. He looks me deep in the eyes, almost touching my soul. I can feel his gaze all over my body. I swallow hard.

  “Look,” he breathes. “You are beautiful and all, but...”

  “Are you gay?” words come out of my mouth before I can stop them.

  Goddamnit, Mia. I snap at myself. What the hell is wrong with you?

  He looks amused.

  “No. I am completely straight,” he laughs. “But I’m not a necrophile,” he says looking at my lips.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask offended.

  “Do you want an option with spicy details or without?” he raises his eyebrow.

  My face turns pale. Shit. What the hell have I done last night?

  “So, how it’s going to be?” he chuckles.

  “You are having a good time, aren’t you?” I snap at him crossing my arms.

  “You can’t be more right.” He laughs and starts walking my way. I cover myself with a blanket. “Easy there, love, I already saw everything. You are more beauty than the beast, so don’t worry. I will not run away,” he winks at me.

  “Christ’s sake! Just spit it out!” I gasp.

  His eyes travel through my body and his grin widens. He brushes his wet hair with his hand and sits on the edge of the bed. He smirks at me.

  “Spicy or non-spicy option, sweetheart?” he asks again, trying to hold back laughter.

  “Spare me the details, please.” I sigh and cover the face with my hands.

  He looks me deep in the eyes and moves towards my face. I freeze not knowing what to do. I should tell him to stay away, but what surprises me the most – I don’t want him to move away. He stops inches away my lips and whispers into my ear.

  “You puked all over yourself seconds after we stepped inside my bathroom.” My face goes pale. “So I showered you,” he pauses. “Dressed you in something that didn’t smell like a liquor store mixed with Thai food,” he says with a sexy voice almost choking from trying not to laugh. “And then I put you to bed. Alone,” he whispers.

  I start to laugh. I should be ashamed, especially that I don’t remember any of it. But the way he said it makes me chuckle. I need to admit; he makes me feel ridiculously comfortable. Normally I would freak out when hearing something like this. He glances at me, his eyes gentle. Then he lifts my chin with his finger, making me look him deep in the eyes.

  “Nothing. Happened,” he says, pausing on every word. “Not even a kiss,” he admits. I breathe out in relief. “So you don’t need to worry.”

  His eyes travel to my hands, still holding tightly onto the blanket.

  “But I wasn’t joking saying I saw everything,” he says and smirks.

  If I was pale before, now my face turned bony white.

  I take a deep breath.

  There is no need to lie to him.

  “I remember nothing from last night,” I admit, embarrassed, holding back tears that threaten to fall.

  I swallow and blink a few times, wishing this would all be just another bad dream.

  His hand tightens on mine. His eyes focused on me. I feel like I’ve known him forever even though I don’t even remember his name. I stare at him hypnotized. He’s got the most beautiful brown eyes I’ve ever seen – so subtle and honest – I want to keep looking into them forever. His long black lashes curl a bit on the edges. It makes him look even cuter.

  “Well, I’m not surprised,” he says with a sigh.

  He’s not being judgemental and I’m grateful he is so understanding.

  “Someone drugged you.” He admits after a moment of awkward silence.

  “How do you know?” my eyes go wide with fear.

  He places his hand on my shoulder and rubs it gently. He’s comforting me.

  “How about I make you a cup of coffee and you go take a shower? And then after you get freshened up, I’ll tell you everything,” he suggests.

  “I don’t have any clothes to change.” My cheeks turn red.

  He jumps to his feet and walks towards the wardrobe. He takes out a pair of black, baggy sweatpants and a black T-shirt, then tosses it to me.

  “You really like black, don’t you?” I try to joke pointing on the T-shirt I’m wearing.

  He ignores my question but sends me a warm smile.

  “Towels are on the shelf in the bathroom,” he says. “How do you like your coffee?” he asks heading towards the door.

  “Cream and sugar, please.” I say grinning.

  “You could just say ‘sweet as you’,” he winks at me.

  “I won’t feed your ego first thing in the morning.” I chuckle.

  He moves towards the door.

  “Hey,” I gasp. He turns to face me. “Thank you,” I say.

  “Anytime,” he replies and grabs the door handle.

  “Hey,” I say, my voice is uncertain. I drop my eyes. “Can you at least tell me your name?” I feel my cheeks burning like flames.

  “Kai,” he says. “Kai Russell.”

  With that, he walks out of the room.

  Warm water feels like salvation to my dignity. I try to wash away the guilt I feel, telling myself none of this is my fault. But I know it is. I should have headed straight home last night. I would spare myself the embarrassment.

  I wash my face with soap, trying to get rid of the remaining of yesterday’s makeup.

  I have a horrible headache. Although my head feels like it will explode any second, I feel strangely rested. The dark circles under my eyes are not so visible anymore. My skin looks more healthy. My mind is relaxed. I haven’t felt that way in years. I haven’t slept so well in years – until last night. I finally slept through the night without waking up every hour – without nightmares.

  I step out of the shower and glance at me in the mirror. I feel different. Like my old self. I laughed. I smiled. All because of him. A stranger. Someone who is waiting on the other side of the door. I should be apprehensive. I should walk out of the door seconds after I got up from the bed. But I didn’t. I don’t want to. No matter how weird does it sound – I feel safe with him being around. Even though I don’t know a damn thing about him. Even though I don’t know if I can trust him. He could easily lie to me. He could’ve been the one who drugged me. Yet, I know in my gut; he was telling me the truth.

  I dry my hair with a towel and get dressed quickly. Thank God these sweatpants have welts on the legs and string at the waist – otherwise, they would fall down. The T-shirt is enormously big as well. Compared to me, Kai is a giant. He is around six foot three, so I look enormous wearing his clothes. They look like a bag on me.

  I take one more glance in the mirror and step out of the bathroom. The kitchen is easy to find as the scent of freshly made coffee shows me the way. I look around the house. Everything is very plain and subdued –
just like his bedroom. White walls, wooden floor. No pictures in the corridor or large dining room. Nothing.

  I step inside the kitchen quietly. His back is turned on me. He’s wearing similar sweatpants to the ones he gave me. Black, of course. And that’s all. He is standing barefoot on the floor. Muscles on his back tense with every move he makes. Something smells delicious and my stomach rumbles loudly. He turns around and grins, eying me inch by inch.

  “I like you better wearing only my T-shirt,” he winks at me.

  My cheeks turn red but I smile. He is adorable.

  Yet, he is a stranger. I remind myself. A stranger who acts like we’re hooking up. Why in the world would he say something like this to me? You don’t get to speak like that towards strangers, do you? Yet, I’m not pissed. I need to admit I liked his comment.

  “How are you feeling?” he asks, stepping towards me.

  “Better, thank you.” I grin.

  My legs are still a little wobbly, but probably because I’m hungry and dehydrated. Whatever this guy in the bar gave me, turned my stomach into a rollercoaster.

  I take a seat on the stool by the kitchen counter and he hands me a cup of coffee. I smell it and warm my hands on the mug. I close my eyes, inhaling the life-saving scent of freshly made coffee. I can tell he is watching me, but he doesn’t say a word. He takes a sip from his cup.

  “You live close to the bar?” I ask, breaking an awkward silence.

  “You can say that.” He shrugs. “I live upstairs.”

  “You own this place?”

  “Yes. I bought it a few years ago.” He responds and looks me in the eyes. “Why won’t you ask me what you really want to know?” he says.

  I swallow hard and take a deep breath. I remember little from last night. The last memory I have that’s not blurred is when I parked my car. I don’t remember entering the bar or seeing him there. But he must have been there last night too. He is an owner, of course, he was there on Saturday night. I just don’t remember him.

  How could I forget such a handsome face? I guess I’m not used to paying attention to men anymore. My eyes wander to his face and I notice little freckles on his nose and cheeks, few scars above his eyebrow and wrinkles around his eyes. I can tell he is a bit older than me, although, at first sight he doesn’t look to be over thirty. Yet, given a closer look, I can tell he is in his thirties already.

  “How did I end up in here?” I ask after a moment of silence. “Meaning, in your apartment.” I correct.

  “Well, it wasn’t the easiest thing to get you up the stairs, I admit,” he laughs. “Lucky for you, I am strong.” He shows off his biceps and winks at me.

  I laugh, suddenly feeling more and more relaxed with every word he says.

  “Do you know the guy who gave this shit to me?” I ask my voice a little shaky.

  His expression changes in milliseconds. His smile disappears and suddenly he is very serious. He nods and anger builds upon his face. He clenches his fists, slowly releasing air from his lungs.

  “Mason Allen, he is a local man-whore.” He says through gritted teeth.

  I place my hand on his, rubbing it gently.

  “It’s okay,” I whisper.

  “The hell, it’s not!” he shouts and bangs his fist on the counter. “This guy tried to rape you!” he clenches his fists.

  I grab his hand.

  It’s the most intimate touch I’ve felt in years. The most intimate contact I allowed myself with anyone since I moved to Jackson. I know I should not do it. I should keep my distance. But at the same time, he shouldn’t be so furious about any of this. He doesn’t even know me. He can’t play the white knight for all damsel in distress, so why is he being one to me?

  “I’ve seen the way he looked at you the moment he entered the bar,” he frowns speaking through gritted teeth, his voice harsh. “I knew he was up to something so I kept my eye on you,” he admits.

  I study his face. He is furious, but behind that macho attitude, I can see his concern. He is truly affected by the whole situation. He’s not pretending or overreacting. Fury in his eyes is proof of that.

  “I beat the shit out of him the moment I realized what he was trying to do to you,” he clenches his fists. “I swear if I see him at my bar ever again, I will kill him,” he says. “I won’t let trash like that harass women in my bar. I won’t allow it. No matter how much money this guy has.”

  The thought of him getting in trouble because of me makes me feel sick in my stomach. I can tell he is a good guy. Honest. Caring. I don’t want to cause him problems, especially not with some rich assholes. I can tell better than anyone, how men like Mason treat women. I’ve seen it in the court many times when I was still at the University. They think money can buy anything.

  I lock my eyes on his.

  “Thank you. For everything.” I whisper. “I mean it,” he sighs and looks me deep in the eyes.

  “You don’t need to thank me,” he says. “Just be careful.”

  I will. I want to say. But I know this would be a lie. Being careful cannot save you from being hurt. I’ve learned that the hard way after my parents died. There are things you have no control over, even if you think you do.

  “It’s time for me to go.” I say.

  “You can’t drive yet. It’s not safe for you. Drugs are still in your system,” he places a hand over mine. “Stay. I’ll make breakfast.” He smiles.

  “I can call a taxi. I don’t want to interrupt you more than I already did.” I admit, but deep inside I’m hoping to stay a little longer. I want to get to know him a little better. “I live nearby, so it won’t cost me much.”

  He looks at me shocked.

  “You live in town?” he asks surprised.

  “Yes.”

  “You don’t look like local people,” he’s eyeing me closely. “When did you move in here?”

  “Five years ago.”

  His jaw drops, but then a wide smile appears on his face.

  “Stay for breakfast,” he insists. “I’ll get you home afterward. Promise I’ll be the perfect gentleman.” He grins. “I’ll make French toasts with strawberry jam. Deal?”

  “Are you sure I won’t bother you?” I ask concerned.

  “Just say yes, Mia.”

  “You know my name?” I ask surprised.

  “I checked your ID before I handed you a drink at the bar,” he explains.

  His eyes are focused on mine. I smile.

  “So, how it’s going to be?” he asks.

  “I’ll stay.”

  Chapter Seven

  Mia

  Past

  A shiver of fear passes through my spine. I’m blindfolded and tied up to a chair. It’s so cold I can feel my breath freezing. Wherever they took me, it will not end up well for me. I try to scream, but all I hear in response is their laughter. Their voices echo in my head. I’m terrified and so hopeless I’ve never been in my entire life – not even when my parents were killed, only three weeks ago. I could have foreseen it. I should’ve known that people who killed them won’t stop until they hunt me down as well. What I didn’t know is why. Why would anyone murder two most known lawyers in the city and then go after their daughter? Why would a drug dealer befriend and then kill them, exposing himself directly to the spotlight, knowing that crime like this most probably will end up with a death penalty?

  Images of the events of that night keep flashing in my brain. I’m still trying to understand what had happened, find any rational explanation. But there’s none. I don’t see any connection between my parents and that man, yet there must have been something. Maybe agent Miller was right. Maybe I’ve idealized my parents so much I didn’t see their flaws.

  I’m trying to set myself free, but ropes on my wrists are too tight.

  “Let me out!” I scream.

  I hear a low laugh.

  “Or what?” one of my captors asks mockingly. “You will call you daddy?” he laughs harshly. “Oh, wait. I forgot,” he whispers to
my ear with a low voice. “He’s dead.”

  He touches my arm with a gun and moves it up and down. The cold metal burns into my skin, making me gasp out of breath. A single tear escapes my eyes.

  “Don’t worry, you will join him soon.” He spits.

  I should have known they will come for me. After they demolished my flat, it was certain they were looking for something but didn’t find it there. That’s why they’ve abducted me. How stupid I was to reject the FBI’s witness protection program? Why I’ve been so stubborn to make my way out of that situation on my own terms? Look where it got you. I snap at myself.

  “I told you already. I don’t have what you ask of me. I’ve handed all the recordings to the police already.” I say, my voice is shaky. “Just let me go, please.” I cry.

  I can feel he’s looking at me, although I can’t see it. I feel his gaze on my body, his breath on my face. He laughs.

  “You poor, little girl,” he says. “Do you really think I will believe those lies?” his voice is ice cold.

  “Whatever you’re looking for, I don’t have it.” I repeat.

  “Shh,” he puts a gun to my mouth. “You’re talking too much.”

  My heart is beating like crazy. I feel it banging on my ribcage so fast it hurts. A million thoughts collide in my head, but none of them helps me understand. I’m helpless. All I can do is cry. I’m shaken up and terrified.

  “We’ll do it my way.” The other man says rapidly.

  I hear footsteps approaching me. Then an ice-cold hand lands on my throat. I’m trying to catch my breath writhing on the chair and kicking my legs. I’m suffocating. Harsh gags escape my throat as I try to free myself. I try to breathe in the air, but my lungs are empty.