Capture Me

by Amber Thielman

  Kass turned her body slightly in Logan’s direction. Her fingers itched to take his hand, just as a friend would comfort someone. But she didn’t because she wasn’t sure how he’d react.

  “When I woke up, I was in the emergency room, and the doctors kept shining lights in my eyes asking what I’d taken. I couldn’t speak; I could barely breathe. And I didn’t understand what they were saying, Kass, because I hadn’t taken anything. But they kept asking, and they kept asking, and no matter how many times I asked them where my sister was, they just kept asking me what I had taken.”

  Silence fell over them. Logan couldn’t meet her face, and she could see the shame on his. He was struggling, probably wondering if she would believe him or not. She wished she knew because Kass didn’t feel like she knew anything anymore.

  “What was she like?” she said after a few moments of awkward silence. Now it was her turn to look away. “Your sister. What was she like?”

  “She was amazing,” Logan said, and Kass heard the catch in his voice. He hesitated to pull himself together. “She was such a bright light for everyone around her, you know? We were twins.”

  “So, it was vehicular manslaughter,” Kass said, to herself. “I don’t understand, Logan.” She met his eyes, searching his face. “You served your time, you were released, so what are you doing?”

  Logan scoffed. He shook his head. The anger that had been replaced by sadness only seconds ago was back; she could see it creeping into his eyes.

  “I wasn’t on drugs when I wrecked the car, Kass,” Logan said. He flexed his fingers over the wheel. “I wasn’t under the influence of anything.”

  “So why did they think you were?”

  “Because my toxicology report came back positive for GHB,” Logan said. “Also known as—”

  “Gamma-hydroxybutyric acid,” Kass said.

  “Yeah, that’s right.”

  “One of the most common date rape drugs used,” Kass continued thoughtfully. “It has no odor and no color in liquid form, and it’s extremely fast acting; it can take effect within fifteen minutes.”

  “Loss of consciousness is quick,” Logan said.

  “Why was GHB in your system?”

  “Because,” Logan shifted his gaze back to the road, his teeth clenched. “I was framed for killing my family.”

  Kass didn’t consider herself a saint—she didn't attend church. She liked to drink, and she enjoyed the occasional smoke. She wasn't an enthusiastic fan of children or crying babies, but she was no monster, either. Kass was a good person. And if she kept on resisting the urge to kill her fiancé in his sleep, she'd be okay. But if she was such a good person, why was she still here?

  You had your chance, the tiny voice in her head said. You've had multiple. You don’t want to go home. You want to stay with him. You want to stay with—

  Pushing that stupid little voice aside, Kass took a deep breath and sneaked a glance at Logan. He was staring out the windshield as they drove, that dark hair falling into his eyes, muscles tensing under the tee shirt he wore. He was smirking, lip curled up in amusement as though he was thinking of something funny, and Kass felt yet another overwhelming urge to lean over and touch him.

  Hold him.

  Kiss him.

  She couldn’t wrap her head around his story. She didn’t know how. For all she knew, Logan was hand-feeding her lies for nothing more than to get her to cooperate. She wanted to trust him; she wanted to believe with every fiber of her being that Logan Ryder was innocent and that every word that had just come out of his mouth was the truth. But she couldn’t, not yet, because he’d still taken her away from home and kept her with him. She was still his hostage, and he was still breaking the law. He was a wanted man; there was no doubt about that. Her desire to believe his story and the desire to stay alive were now at odds with each other. The more she thought about it, the more she tried to piece together the thoughts in her head, the more painful it was. All she wanted to do was shut down.

  “Are we really going to Nevada?” she asked after another hour. “The radio report said you might be heading to Nevada. Are you?”

  “How many times do I have to ask you to shut up?” said Logan, but there was no genuine irritation in his voice.

  “A few more, probably. If you thought this was going to be easy, you are very, very wrong.” She took a calming breath, wondering if breathing would even help her now. She had always been a basket case, even a little bit high strung, and in-and-out breaths did nothing for her. Booze worked. A punching bag worked. A good scream fest worked. Breathing did not work.

  Kass pondered this for a while, trying to remember the last time she’d been so angry. She thought of Ryan, wondered what he was doing at that very moment. Was he missing her? Was he pacing the police station anxiously, eyes darkened from lack of sleep? Was he now regretting all the times he’d struck her in anger? Kass knew it was abnormal not to miss her fiancé more. Had they had an excellent relationship, he'd be on her mind all day and all night. Her chest would ache, her heart would feel empty and void without him. She would probably cry, bury her head in her hands and sob until her tears dried up and her heart stopped beating. But she didn't. She hadn't. She missed Ryan—she missed him quite a bit. But she sure as hell didn't miss the fights and the drama, and she’d never felt safer than she did now: far, far away from him.

  With Logan.

  Ryan and Kass had stopped having meaningful conversations around the time he had discovered her cutting. It had been as if he was frightened of her—if not frightened, turned off. Repulsed. No longer was she the stable, smart, pig-headed girl he lusted after in high school. She had transformed into something else in his eyes—a basket-case. A loner. An attention-seeker. None of those things had been true, of course, but her knowing that differed from him knowing it. It didn't matter what she showed him and everybody else on the outside—Ryan had seen the other side of her, the weak side, and he hated it. He didn't like weak. He didn't want weak. He had no intention of ever having to care for somebody who was weak—especially not her. She had to take care of herself, and that was okay.

  But sometimes—just sometimes—Kass wished she had someone there to take her by the shoulders, look her in the face, and say, “I'm here for you.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Logan was officially out of money. They were broke. Really broke. And while they were close to their destination, he still knew what had to happen next; they had no choice.

  “We're going to have to sleep in the car tonight,” he said.

  Kass looked over at him, flabbergasted, her gray-blue eyes rounded with utter shock.

  “Please tell me you're kidding.”

  “I wish I was.” He flipped on his blinker and eased the little blue car onto an off ramp, his gaze catching sight of the Rest Stop sign on the road.

  “I can't sleep in the car,” Kass said. “I have a bad back.”

  “You're so full of shit.” Logan glanced over at her, smirking as he parked the car in an empty parking space. The entire rest area was empty. There wasn't even a sleepy semi driver in sight.

  “This is creepy as fuck,” Kass said, looking around into the darkness. Logan couldn't help but to silently agree with her. The rest area sat firmly against a border of trees, trees that formed a vast forest around them, which made the parking lot appear even darker than it was. Once again, his mind pondered up some stupid horror movie setting—two college kids spending the night in the rest area—a psychopath murderer hot on their trail.

  Oh, wait. In this scenario, he was the psychopath murderer.

  “This is all I have for you,” Logan said. He didn’t tie her up. He didn’t even consider it. She was not his hostage, not anymore. If she didn’t want to leave, then so fucking be it. “Are you going to try and sleep?”

  “I guess,” Kass said. She looked ghostly in the dark of the night, the moon washing her complexion with white through the window. She shook her head slowly, the bob of her new hair br
ushing her neck. He put an arm over his eyes and took a deep breath, feeling himself waver with exhaustion already.

  “Get some sleep, Kass.”

  “I’m not tired.”

  “Of course you’re not.” Logan put his hands over his face, rubbing the taut skin. From the corner of his eye, he noticed that Kass was looking at him—staring—as if she were examining a new specimen. “Do I have something on my face?” Logan asked, catching her off guard.

  Kass turned away abruptly, her cheeks flushing a shade of crimson. “Sorry,” she mumbled.

  Logan shrugged and let his concentration waver out the windshield and into the darkness. In the silence of the car, between their soft breathing, something made a noise outside. “Do you hear that?” he asked. His words cut through the silence, making Kass jump. Logan leaned forward, alert, his eyes narrowing into the darkness.

  “Hear what?”

  “There's someone out there,” Logan said, and opened the door.

  “Don't do that,” Kass said. “You're freaking me out.”

  Logan held up a finger to shush her, and a tiny ball of fear caught in her throat.

  “Seriously!” she hissed. “It's not fucking funny, Logan.” She watched as he stepped towards the bushes, crouched down slightly, like a predator on the hunt. A million terrifying thoughts swam through Kass's brain, and she imagined him getting tackled and dragged away by a cougar—or maybe a mad mountain man.

  “Logan!” she whispered. “Get back into the car. Please!”

  “One second,” he held up a finger again, and Kass wished she was close enough to him to break it. “Something's out there.”

  “I don't give a shit!” she hissed. “It could be dangerous, and you have the keys on you, asshole!” She watched, frozen in horror, as Logan reached his hand into the swaying brush. He turned back to look at her, and in a terrifying instant, he was yanked forward, nearly clean of his feet. Kass heard herself shriek, and she tried to clamber out of the car. Logan was wailing now, howling bloody murder. Kass froze where she was, heart racing, and covered her eyes, unsure of what else to do.

  “Help me!” Logan shouted at her. “Kass, please help me I'm dying—help me, Kass, help me. I'm melting. I'm meeeeeellllltiiiiing.” She felt her hands drop from her eyes as she struggled to catch her breath. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest, threatening to break free. Logan was standing straight up now, holding a ragged stray dog in his arms. He looked over and flashed her a cocky grin.

  “Gotcha.”

  Had a gun been handy, with only one bullet left, Kass had no doubt exactly who she would have used it on at that moment.

  “I fucking hate you.”

  “I know.” Logan lowered the skinny stray dog into the driver's seat of the car, his rough hands stroking the frightened animal. “I told you there was something out there,” he said. “I wasn't lying to you.”

  Despite her anger at him, Kass couldn't resist holding her hand out to the frightened dog. He was thin and worn down, as though he'd been on his own for far too long without food or water. He sniffed her hand, and his tail wagged weakly.

  “Poor thing,” Kass said, forgetting her irritation. “Who could abandon a sweet puppy like this?”

  “Maybe someone's missing him,” Logan said. He pushed the dog over gently and slid back into the car.

  “Well, they don't deserve him back.” Kass kept her hand out, allowing the whimpering animal to lick her palm. “He looks half starved.”

  “Yeah,” Logan agreed. “He does.” Kass watched as he reached into the backseat for a bottle of unopened water. He twisted the cap off, opened his palm, and poured water in his hand. The dog lapped at it desperately, still whining deep down in its throat.

  “He looks like a yellow lab cross,” she said. “My friend Abby use to have one just like him when we were kids. His name was Jack.”

  “Jack?” Logan repeated doubtfully.

  “Yes,” Kass said. She watched him screw the cap back on the bottle and pat the dog's head.

  “Don't worry,” he told the pup. “I would never name you something as stupid as Jack.”

  “It wasn't stupid,” Kass insisted. “It was cute.” She hesitated for a moment, her eyes on the dog. “Fine,” she said finally. “It was stupid. Whatever.”

  “Did you ever have a dog growing up?” Logan asked. Kass watched his hands rub behind the dog's ears, and then up and down his spine. The mangy dog, she could tell, was loving the attention.

  “No,” she said. “I never had a dog. My mom was allergic, and I guess I never found the time for one after high school. Did you?”

  “No,” Logan said. Kass watched, taken, as the dog positioned himself so he was halfway in Logan's lap. “I always wanted one, but we never had one. My step-mother wouldn't think of it.” It was odd, Kass felt, watching a man like Logan bond so quickly with a stray dog as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

  “What are you going to do with him?” she asked. Logan shrugged.

  “Leave him where I found him, I guess.”

  “Logan! He's not a toy. You can't just put him back where you found him.”

  “Well, he's not ours,” Logan said. Kass felt herself hesitating, unable to avoid that fact that he'd referred to the two of them in the same sentence.

  “You're right,” she said finally. “But we can't just leave him. He could die out here.”

  “Do you want to take him with us?” he asked. She was caught off guard, surprised that he'd suggested such a thing.

  “I was going to suggest dropping him off at the next animal shelter we found,” she said. Logan's eyes flickered from her face and down to the dog in his lap, the one that was now snoring soundly, not a care in the world as long as he had people with him.

  “He's kind of cute, don't you think?” Logan asked.

  Kass stared at the both of them for a moment—man and dog—feeling every emotion tug at her heart strings. Sure, he was cute. He was a dog—and she was a prisoner—and her captor had just found them a pet.

  Good Lord.

  “So,” Logan said, leaning back in his seat. “Tell me about this guy of yours.”

  Kass met his gaze, taken by surprise at the sudden turn in the subject. “Ryan?” she asked.

  Yeah, like there was someone else.

  “Yes.”

  She hesitated for a moment, uncertain on whether she should get this personal. Sure, Logan had taken a turn for the best, but talking to him about personal details like her love life seemed to push it.

  Then again, this whole goddamn situation they were in was pushing boundaries every second.

  “He asked me to marry him six months ago,” she said, playing with the ring on her left finger. It glistened in the moonlight, seeming to taunt her. “We went to high school together, but at that time we didn't even really know each other. He was a jock and a scholar, and I was the bookworm. Withdrawn, shy.” She paused. Logan was watching her from the driver's side seat, silent—intrigued.

  “You? Shy?” he said.

  “I learned to stick up for myself,” Kass said. “Nobody else did.”

  “So, when did you get together?”

  She felt tense, and she almost considered stopping, but, she couldn't not talk to him. It felt like the first time in a long time that someone was paying attention to her—listening.

  “He asked me out in high school. He was a senior, and I was a sophomore. I would see him around now and again at friend's houses and in school. He was always the life of the party. Drunk, of course, with a girl on each arm. Women drooled over him. He was it.”

  “'It?'”

  “Yeah,” she confirmed with a smile. It felt good to smile. “You know, the one guy that everyone wanted. Mr. Right.”

  Logan laughed. She thought he looked so different like this: kicked back. Smiling. It was—bizarre.

  “Do you notice that when you talk about Ryan, your voice changes?” His question was abrupt, serious, catching her off guar
d. She could almost feel the brick wall go up as she looked over, meeting his gaze.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Your voice,” he said. “It gets cold. Tightens up.”

  Kass forced a smile. It was tight lipped. “What are you, a psychology major?” she asked mockingly.

  Logan shrugged. “I took some classes,” he said. “I was two months away from graduating with my bachelor's degree in psychology before the shit hit the fan and I had to drop out.”

  “No kidding?”

  “Nope.”

  She watched him shift his body and cross his legs, facing her now, his undivided attention in her direction.

  “I don't know what you're talking about. With Ryan, I mean. I love Ryan.” Even to her, the words sounded and felt strained. Stiff. Untrue. “He's amazing. I look forward to becoming Mrs. Ryan Parker.” There wasn’t even a hint of truth in her voice, and they both knew it.

  “You can kid yourself, Kass, but you can’t kid me,” Logan said. Something in his tone forced her to look at him, to scan the features of his face and study the secrets behind his eyes.

  “I’m not kidding anyone,” she said. “I love him.”

  And as the words fell out of her mouth, burning her tongue like a hot iron, the image of Ryan towering over her, intimidating her, screaming at her, grabbed hold and clung on. Before Kass even knew what was happening, tears pressed against her eyelids and slipped down her face.

  Chapter Fourteen

  He wasn't an idiot. When the color drained from Kass's face, he knew the conversation had taken a turn for the worst. Kass had her hands in her lap, staring down at them, her lips pursed tightly and her face still haunted with white as tears slid down her cheeks.

  There it was, her kryptonite. Ryan Parker.

  “I'm sorry,” Logan said. He felt like such an asshole now, even more so than before. If there were an award, it would go to him, hands down.