Predator

by Michelle Heard

  My heartbeat speeds up as I realize why there’s only one fucker in there with her. Shit!

  “Please don’t.” I hear the pleading tone, almost frantic, and it makes my blood burn through my veins.

  “No!” she screams, and this time it’s a hopeless sound that guts me. I close my eyes. I drop my face to my hand and my other fists around the phone.

  Fuck… Fuck!

  “No.” The word sounds hollow. The fight is gone from her voice, and it makes something primal rip through my chest.

  “Don’t worry, babe,” the fucker grunts. “I’ll be quick. You won’t remember this for long.” I can clearly hear the sound of skin slapping on skin, and it must be the most fucked up sound I’ve ever heard. “Tomorrow Henry gets to shoot your brains out.” I hear him grunt as he finds his release, and the sound makes me sick to my stomach. I can’t imagine how Cara must have felt how she must still feel. No wonder she has nightmares.

  “You didn’t think you were going to live, did you?”

  I hear movement, and then he shoves her into the light, up close. There is a wild look in her eyes, and I don’t get it. There’s still life in her eyes, unlike now – they’re vacant.

  “There’s nothing left of her, Tom. You should have given us the money when we asked.”

  He shoves her hard to the floor and seconds later the recording stops.

  It’s finished?

  I check through the other memory cards, and I count only three. I press rewind until I have a clear shot of her face, then I pause.

  I lean closer and stare long and hard at those eyes. “What happened, Cara?” I whisper. “What broke you?”

  I keep staring at her green eyes, sparkling with tears – but mostly, they are alive.

  I think back to when I found her. She was filthy as shit… and she reeked of vomit and piss. Not once did she puke on any of the memory cards I’ve watched, not even with the last one when the fucker raped her. Sure, she could have puked afterward, off camera.

  But something worse must’ve happened to kill the life in her eyes. What the fuck could be worse than what I already saw and heard?

  I get up and leave the office. I lock the door behind me and then walk to her room. I knock softly, but there’s no answer. I nudge the door open wider until I can see the bed. I’m surprised to see it’s empty, she’s always in it. I open the door all the way and then see her standing by the window.

  I flip on the light, and she swings around, a clear look of terror on her face.

  “Fuck, sorry,” I say quickly, walking in so she can see me clearly. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  “You didn’t.” The words rush from her, and I just nod. She has so much pride. It’s the one thing they couldn’t take from her. I can see clear as day that she’s scared shitless of me, but she’ll never admit it.

  I walk over to her and stare down at her. Her eyes do a dance around the room before she finally looks up at me. Dull, green eyes. Sometimes I see a spark of anger, but that’s rare.

  I want to tell her I’m sorry for not getting her out sooner. I haven’t felt this emotion in a long time… failure. I’ve failed Cara the same way I failed Leah. It doesn’t matter that Cara’s breathing because she might as well be dead… just like Leah.

  CHAPTER 7

  CARA

  “Go make yourself pretty, we’re going out.” He drops the bomb on me a week later.

  “Huh.” I glance over my shoulder to where he’s leaning against the counter. My hands still in the warm water as I wait for him to explain.

  “Don’t grunt at me. You heard me. Now go,” he growls, but there’s no bite to his growl. There hasn’t been any bite to his voice since he hugged me in that motel room.

  I don’t know what changed between us, but I’m wary of it.

  I finish washing the fork and let the dirty water drain out. As I dry my hands, I can still feel his eyes on me, so I hang the cloth quickly and rush out of the kitchen.

  I don’t want to go out. I don’t want to see people. I want to stay here where it’s only us where I’m safe. The last time we left the house, it turned out quite disastrous in my books.

  Thirty minutes later, he knocks on my door. I stare at him, actually I gawk at him. He’s all dressed up. I mean he really looks good. Black jeans, charcoal button-up shirt that accentuates the gray of his eyes and I think he knows that. That’s why he wears that color all the time.

  He steps closer, and I catch a faint scent in the air. Shit! He even smells different, a good kind of different. The spicy scent quickly fills the room, and it makes my mouth water.

  He frowns when he sees that I haven’t changed yet.

  “People, Damian!” It’s all I can say to try to make him understand.

  “You’re not gonna lock yourself up in this house. I gave you weeks. It takes two weeks to break a habit and to build one up. You’ve had more than two. You’re making it a habit to stay in this room if you’re not cleaning or cooking. You don’t even go outside. You’re not a damn slave,” he snaps.

  Well, at least the bite is back.

  “I enjoy doing those things.” I defend myself lamely.

  His face darkens, and he stalks over to my cupboard. I never get in Damian’s way, just because I know I won’t win once he has that look in his eyes. He moves one hanger after another, and then he throws a pair of slacks and an old shirt on the bed. I almost roll my eyes at him. I mean, really.

  “Get dressed, or I’m dressing you,” he snaps before he stalks out.

  I stare at the plain outfit and then walk over to the cupboard. I say a silent prayer of thanks for the new outfits I got a week ago. He must’ve chosen the oldest stuff out of the cupboard.

  Willfulness sets in, and I search through the cupboard for something else to wear.

  “I’ll show you,” I hiss before I grab an outfit I never would’ve worn unless I was pissed off.

  I get dressed fast and pull a brush through my hair. Make-up would’ve been really welcome right about now, but I’ve done the best I can with what I have.

  I find him in the kitchen, pouring two glasses of water. He places one to the side with two tablets.

  “Aspirin,” he growls, and I pull a ‘why’ face. “I don’t have a headache,” I snap back at him.

  “Fuck, Woman! Just take it,” he growls, and then he takes a deep breath. “It will help so that you don’t have a hangover tomorrow, should you decide to drink tonight.” I watch him swallow two tablets. He’s obviously going to booze it up. This I’d actually pay to see.

  When I don’t move to take the tablets, he glances at me from over his shoulder. His lips are still wet from the water he just drank and I watch them part as he sucks in a breath. I don’t know if it’s a good thing or a bad thing, and I suddenly feel very conscious of my choice of clothing.

  “Change.” The word rushes from my sudden dry lips. “I should change, yeah.” I sound like freaking Yoda.

  “No.” The word is hard and fast. He shakes his head and turns his body so he’s facing me and then leans back against the counter. “I’m taking my gun with,” he says casually, “and you are not leaving my side.”

  I look down at the short skirt that stops a few inches above my knees. It didn’t look that short when I got it. To my defense, I’m at least wearing black stockings to cover my legs, and the boots come up to just under my knees. My body is mostly covered. The long sleeve shirt covers everything. It might sit tight, but it covers everything.

  “You said to get dressed,” I say dryly. “You said we’re going out,” I keep going, and then I wave a hand at him. “You got all dressed up, and I had to try and match.” His eyebrow jumps up, which makes me flush.

  “Drink the tablets,” he says.

  He doesn’t move away when I walk closer, and my heart leaps to my throat when his eyes follow me across the kitchen. There is a different look in his normally dark eyes, and I’m not sure how I feel about that.

  His voice dro
ps, and his lips curl into a slow smile, “You look good, Cara.”

  I choke on the sip of water I just took. His hand settles on my stomach, and he whacks me between my shoulder blades. I clear my throat, and my watering eyes drop to his hand that’s still on my stomach.

  “Take another sip.” His voice is deep and right by my ear. I take a huge gulp. It goes down hard like I just swallowed sand. “Good girl.” Then his hand slips over to my side, and he nudges softly. “Let’s go.”

  I’m just plain freaking out as Damian parks the car outside a bar.

  He gets out, and I just can’t bring myself to open the door. I’m safe in the car.

  Shit, I should’ve stayed at home. What the hell am I doing outside a bar? I’m not ready for this. Anxiety grips my chest in a painful hold.

  The last time I was at a bar… I met Steven. I fucked up, and I paid dearly for it.

  My body starts to tremble at the horrible memories.

  I can’t do this!

  My eyes dart around the parking area, and then they jump to Damian. I watch him stalk around the front of the car, and I clasp my hands tighter on my lap. He yanks the door open and takes my hand right from my lap.

  “Out,” he barks. The sound is sharp on my frail nerves.

  I do an awkward stumble out of the car, and he moves in close to me. Our bodies brush as he leans in to close the door. He doesn’t pull back but instead turns his face to mine. His warm breath chases the cold air from my neck. It makes me feel anxious. I’ve never felt so conflicted about another human being before. I know I’m safe with him, but being so close to him makes me shiver with both fear and comfort. It’s bewildering.

  “You’ll be fine in there. I’m here. I have your back, Cara.” Then he pulls away and lifts my chin. I keep it up when he lets go.

  Maybe I can fake the strength he wants to see on my face because I sure as hell don’t feel strong.

  I stay close to him and resist the urge to grab for his hand. I try to get control over the rampant emotions that are wreaking havoc inside me.

  The air is stale with cigarette smoke before we even enter the bar. The smell makes me hunch my shoulders, and I wrap my arms around me, grabbing my sides tightly.

  As he opens the door, laughter and music hit me full on. Dimmed lights, bodies moving, constant laughter and loud voices, and then there’s a sharp pitched scream as a huge man slaps a waitress on the ass. I stumble back from it all. The smoke is overwhelmingly thick, and it presses against my face. I feel sick. Shit, I’m going to vomit. I can’t do this.

  Panic flairs hot through me and my breathing speeds up.

  Damian’s arm goes around my waist. He pulls me to stand right in front of him. His chest presses to my back, and his hand slides to my hip. He nudges me slightly. I take an uneasy step, my eyes darting everywhere. I know he has my back, but it doesn’t ease the overwhelming feeling of being out in public.

  I walk where he steers me. A huge man staggers in front of me, and he grabs for me. I shriek and jump back, slamming into Damian. I spin around and grab hold of his shirt. “Please, I can’t,” I whimper, near hysterics.

  I feel his breath on my cheek and then his arms go around me, locking me against his chest. I was wrong earlier – I fear everything around me, but not Damian. I don’t know why, but I trust him with the sliver of life I have left. I trust him more than I trust myself because I almost got myself killed. It’s my fault they raped me because I put myself in that horrid situation. But Damian… he saved me. He protects me, and that is much more than I have done for myself.

  “I have you. You’re safe.” I can barely hear him, but the words sink deep.

  I look down at my fingers, digging into his shirt. I didn’t even know I was holding on so tightly. I pry my fingers loose and suck in a deep breath. The thick smell of smoke is not so overwhelming anymore. Mixed scents fill the air, making it easier to breathe.

  Slowly, he lets go of me, and then he reaches for my hand. I stay glued to his side as we make our way to the bar. I keep my eyes on his hand, which is holding mine.

  I listen as he places an order, and I take the glass when he hands it to me. I bring it to my lips and throw my head back, letting the liquid burn down my throat. Then I focus my eyes on the black ink curling from his wrist to where it disappears under the rolled up sleeve. My eyes follow his arm as he reaches for me, and I move at the same time, knowing safety is with him. No one can touch me if I’m with him.

  His arm slips around my waist. He leans in close so I can hear him. “Listen to me,” he says. I nod, and my body warms from the liquid. “I’m here, and nothing will happen. They are only people. You’ll most probably never see them again after tonight. Focus only on me. Breathe in and out.” I do what he says, and I breathe his spicy cologne in.

  I pull back only enough to look up at him, and a smile starts to pull at his lips. I stand on my toes so I can reach his ear. “Just don’t leave me alone.” I don’t care that I sound needy. I’ll die if he leaves me here.

  “Not a fucking chance in hell of that happening tonight.” His voice is deep and reassuring. “Another drink then we dance.” He sounds normal again.

  The word dance registers somewhere in my frazzled mind. I pull back, and everything comes into focus. We’re standing at a horseshoe-shaped bar. The wood has been worn through over the years. Bowls of peanuts are spaced over the counter. I once read that it’s one of the dirtiest things on the planet next to a public toilet.

  The bar is not as full as it felt when we first came in. Only half the seats are taken. My eyes keep taking in everything, and then I see the dance floor, and I realize why the bar looks empty. Most of the people are there, swaying to the song I haven’t even been listening to.

  I don’t know it, but then I don’t know ninety percent of the songs out there. The band is playing a real slow song, and I listen as Damian places another order.

  His eyes are serious when they come back to me. I used to be scared of making eye contact with him, but right now, that dark look in his eyes grounds me. It means protection for me and death for anyone who tries to hurt me. Damian is my shield against the world.

  I don’t down the next drink. I make it last four huge gulps. “I charge a fee to carry you home, but dancing is for free. Come on.” He takes my hand as the first piano notes of a song start up. It sounds sad.

  “I can’t dance,” I say anxiously. He doesn’t listen and pulls me across the floor. “Damian, I’ve never danced,” I try again.

  When we reach the dance floor, he turns to me and then pulls me to his chest.

  He doesn’t hold me like some of the other couples are holding each other. He takes my hand and holds it to his chest. His other hand presses lightly against my lower back, securing me to his body. I stare up at him with huge eyes. This is so unlike Damian. I’m not sure what to make of it. I never took him for someone who likes to dance.

  I’m not comfortable with all the touching. He’s touched me more in the last hour than he has altogether since I’ve come to stay with him. It’s not that I’m scared, I’m just not comfortable with it. It confuses my already disoriented mind.

  I place my other hand on his bicep and then he starts to move. He doesn’t make me do some elaborate dance. Thank, God! He just holds me and moves us slowly in a circle.

  As the seconds tick by I start to relax a little. I’m super aware of every single person close to me. Damian’s breath is warm on my forehead, and I try to focus on it.

  I close my eyes to block out the world. It’s only us and no one else because no one else matters. I’m safe. No one can hurt me.

  After the song, Damian leads me back to the bar, and once we’re seated I keep my eyes on him. I have to lean in so he can hear me.

  “Have you come here before?” I glance at the other women. Some are visibly staring at him, and it doesn’t sit well in my gut. He’s never brought anyone home, and I don’t know how I’ll feel about it should he do something like that.
That house is my safe zone. I don’t want anyone else there. Damian is my shield, and another woman will only endanger that.

  “Yes.” He doesn’t offer more of an explanation.

  I know he’s older than me, by a few years. He’s showing me a different side to him, and just maybe he’ll allow questions tonight.

  “How old are you?” Oh hell, not the actual question I was thinking of asking.

  His mouth lifts at the corner. I look at the people around us, so I don’t have to look at him.

  “Thirty-six,” he says, and I can feel the burn of his eyes on me.

  Thirty-six. Wow, that makes him eleven years older than me. I didn’t think he was that old. I couldn’t tell for sure with the beard.

  He orders another round of drinks. I sit down on a bar stool and drink it slowly. My eyes are on the woman singing. She’s beautiful with her deep auburn hair curling wild around her face. When the song ends, she smiles and talks seductively into the mic, “Thanks folks, we’re taking a short break.”

  I look back to find Damian also looking at her. There’s a twisting in my chest when my eyes jump back to the stage, and I see her smile at him. I frown as she makes her way toward us, and my hands grow clammy. Is she the real reason we came here tonight?

  My world stills when he reaches an arm out to her. I watch his arm slip around her slender waist, and he pulls her to his chest. Her fingers splay open over his ribs, and I watch her squeeze into him. They smile at each other and then bile suddenly builds up in my throat.

  I push myself off the stool and rush towards the toilet sign. I just need a second to collect myself. I just need a minute, maybe ten.

  Thoughts rush through my mind in a crazy blur. What if he likes her? What if she comes to the house? My safety zone will be gone then!

  I push through the door, and I go to stand behind the four women who are already waiting. Good, it gives me some time.

  I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I look like shit. I’ve passed albino, and I’m heading for translucency. Maybe that’s what I’ll become – a ghost.