Captive

by Trevion Burns

  Hakeem nodded his understanding.

  Malik met his eyes, voice hardening. “I hired you to get sensitive matters resolved quietly. This is no exception.” Malik’s voice rose when Hakeem nodded again. “Why hasn’t anyone brought me his head? Why has another day gone by without my wife returned to me? Stop bloody nodding and do something about this.”

  Hakeem jolted and then hurried away, moving toward the door.

  “Kill him already. Preferably before he destroys everything I’ve worked for, not after!” Malik’s voice hit stratospheric levels, his face going beet red even as Hakeem raced to the door of the office and disappeared into the hallway.

  Malik watching him go, teeth bared, chest heaving, and nails digging into the wood of his desk.

  ——

  Later that evening, Malik had calmed. Not because he was any less impatient with the morons he employed, but because he’d just cleared the staircase to the top floor of his home. Because he was now looking upon the only door on the top floor. A smile graced his lips as he made his way toward it, fingering out a single gold key from his pocket while nodding the burly guard who manned the door away. The guard left without a word. Malik waited until he was gone to unlock the door and swing it open.

  “My darling—” The sight that met Malik stole the rest of his sentence, his brown eyes bulging at the sight of Emma’s big green eyes flying toward the door in shock, and a gasp parting her lips. She wore a bright yellow dress with matching shoes and frilly white socks. But there was nothing frilly about the terror in her eyes.

  When she suddenly snatched her hands out from underneath her pillow, Malik’s eyes flew to that pillow and then he was blazing across the room.

  “No—wait!” Emma gasped when he flung the pillow to the floor, exposing the hunter green book, Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince. Emma’s head fell forward, making her blonde curls hang like a curtain around her face.

  He snatched the book, and he held it up. “What on Earth is this?”

  Emma shook her head, her voice as low as a baby bird’s, eyes still lowered. “I don’t know.”

  “You don’t know? Look at me, my darling.”

  Emma slowly lifted her eyes to his, her tiny body shaking from head to toe, lips pressed together so tightly they nearly went white.

  Malik shook the book. “Who gave this to you? Tell me. Tell me right… now…” His words petered away as his eyes shifted to something over her shoulder. In the next instant, the book fell from his hand and plopped back down onto the bed, forgotten.

  He circled the bed and crossed the attic in three long strides, stopping at the tall dresser in the far corner of the room. Taking hold of the chest of drawers, he shifted it so that it slid away from the wall, and then he bent down, picking up a large brick that had been peeking out from behind the leg a moment earlier. He surveyed the wall behind the dresser, and the moment he caught sight of the concrete fragments on the floor, concrete that had been chipped away from the wall in an attempt to expose the laundry chute hidden behind it, his heated eyes flew back across the room to Emma. He stood and began toward her once more, his shadow looming over her as he came to a stop next to the bed with the brick held high in his hand, as if moments from bringing it down across her cheek.

  “What the hell is going on here?” he breathed.

  Emma’s mouth fell open, but she didn’t speak a word, her eyes expanding to twice their size, gleaming with hot tears.

  24

  Linc flinched when Mia pressed the alcohol-soaked cotton swab against the second deep gash that had found its way onto his neck—a sharp hiss slithering through his clenched teeth. Mia jolted with him, her face curling into a cringe, big brown eyes soaked in regret.

  “I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” she said, for the millionth time. “I wish whoever really owns this place had some hydrogen peroxide in the first aid kit but all they’ve got is this concentrated stuff that stings like hell.” She motioned to the table where a white first aid tin lay open next to an unscrewed bottle of clear rubbing alcohol.

  A frown crossed Linc’s face, darkened with fury, a perfect compliment to the black storm clouds now swallowing the sky outside. The patter of heavy rainfall against the shingled roofs, the splash of the downpour against the canal waters below, every unforeseen, heart-stopping clap of thunder, and every sharp blaze of lightning. All of it encompassed the storm raging inside him to a tee.

  Mia set her hand on the side of his head and gently nudged it to the side, informing him that she was coming in with another swipe of that evil cotton swab.

  “You wish they had hydrogen peroxide?” His voice boomed. “Well, I wish I wasn’t stuck with a woman who’s the reason I need it hydrogen peroxide the first place. An insane woman who put a needle in my neck and a goddamn knife to my chest.”

  She paused in the midst of cleaning his wound, hand still on his head, and tilted her head at him.

  He cut his eyes at her, lips tightening. After discovering that he was Emma’s father and racing into the bathroom to frantically grab a first aid kid, Mia had apologized too many times to count. But her visible regret hadn’t been enough to stop the constant roll of his stomach. It wasn’t because he couldn’t find it in his heart to forgive the repentant woman before him, but, instead, it was because it had all been a lie. Their first soft kiss, the fervent sweep of their tongues that had taken it to the next level. Their trembling limbs giving out from under them as it did, causing them to fall to the ground. The breathtaking sight of her glistening pussy when she’d spread her legs for him on the floor. Her seductive moans when she’d allowed him to lick it. To suck the velvety lips. Her back arching as she came.

  It had all been a lie.

  His stomach tightened and rolled again. Since the moment he’d taken her, he’d known damn well she’d been using her beautiful face, her outstanding body, and her innate feminine wiles to take advantage of him, in the hope of escape. Not because she really wanted him. He’d known it all along, but he still hadn’t been able to stop.

  He drew in a deep breath as his thoughts took him to another world. So far away that he didn’t even feel the pain anymore when she resumed cleaning his wounds. The agony swirling inside him didn’t leave room for any more.

  “I thought you were a monster,” she continued trying to explain. “I thought you were a savage.”

  “And you let me lick your pussy anyway.”

  The cotton swab froze on his neck just as a clap of thunder boomed down from the sky and shook the floor and the walls. She didn’t respond.

  He stole another look at her, biting his tongue because he wanted to tell her that the sweet scent of her pussy lingered on his upper lip. That his foolish dick twitched every time he took a deep breath. Perfectly aware of just how foolish his dick really was, he was still unable to stop his equally foolish gaze from falling down her body. Noticing that his too-big shirt was still falling off one of her shoulders, fastened haphazardly since he’d ripped most of the buttons away. The way her bare thighs were spread wide in the chair she’d pulled up next to his, her pussy hidden away behind the long flaps of the shirt. He couldn’t help but flash back to their moment on the floor when she had dug her fingers into his hair to hold his head between those long legs. The feeling of her pussy convulsing around his fingers when she came, proving that, even if her attraction to him had been an emotional lie, it definitely hadn’t been a physical one.

  He forced his eyes away, voice gravelly. “Couldn’t even return the favor before you went for my neck.”

  “I’m not a selfish lover.”

  He cut a look at her again, the smile on his face completely genuine this time.

  “And allow me to remind you, men do it to women all the time.” Her voice became defensive as she held her hands out at her sides. “They bust a nut in point-two seconds and then have the audacity to ask the girl, ‘did you come?’ knowing damn well, she didn’t.”

  He raised his eyebrows high and looked a
way, massaging his jaw to hide the smirk spreading on his face.

  But Mia was on a roll, her voice rising higher every second. “Knowing damn well, that when she whispers ‘Yes, baby, I came hard,’ that she’s lying through her teeth so he can pass the fuck out with his ego still intact—with no regard for her pleasure. Leaving her to touch herself to finish what he started. All while hating his guts the whole time. Maybe I restored a little balance to the universe tonight. Gave the male race a little taste of their own medicine.”

  “Whatever you gotta tell yourself…”

  “Like I said, I thought you were a monster. I thought you had kidnapped me for ransom, not for your…” She didn’t finish, apparently having seen him roll his eyes. “Venice will be flooded before the night’s out. It’ll take days for the city to drain. Can we at least try to get along before then?”

  When Linc didn’t respond, staring blankly ahead, she exhaled heavily and resumed cleaning his gash. “Must be nice, sitting all the way up there on that high horse. As if you aren’t the reason we’re in this mess to begin with. As if you didn’t kidnap me and tie me up. As if you aren’t responsible for the bottom of my foot hurting like hell right now. As if you didn’t throw the childish tantrum back in London that left shattered glass all over the floor. Leaving my foot bandaged and bloody. God forbid a day ever comes when you’re forced to climb down from the high horse and walk around down here with the rest of us. I doubt you’d survive it.”

  He chuckled softly.

  Another long silence fell, and Mia continued tending to his wound quietly. Grabbing gauze and tape from the first aid kit, getting to work covering the gash.

  “You know…” Her whispered voice came, softened with contrition once more. “She knows who you are.”

  His eyes flew to her.

  “She has your picture. Keeps it hidden in a book. She loves to read. She’s waiting for you. She even told me about a plan to run away and go find her mommy and daddy herself.” She bit her bottom lip when their eyes locked. “She’s an amazing kid.”

  Linc felt the emotion burning his eyes, probably turning them red.

  The whites of her eyes turned crimson too. “He won’t hurt her.”

  A lump moved down his throat as his eyes fell to the scar on her thigh. “Same way he didn’t hurt you?”

  She pressed her lips together but didn’t move to tug the shirt down over her leg, the way she usually did whenever his eyes happened to travel to that gnarly scar.

  “She’s still too young for him. But her sixth birthday…” She breathed deeply as if the next words on her tongue had caused bile to rise up her throat. “It’s coming fast.”

  His cheeks went hot. “How could you sleep at night knowing my daughter was in that house? Why haven’t you done something? Why haven’t you called the goddamn police?”

  Guilt singed her eyes. “For the same reason, you haven’t called the police.”

  He snatched his eyes away, clenching his teeth so tightly it made his jaw roll.

  “Because trafficking is a machine that runs on fear. Our most basic and dominant instinct. The instinct that keeps us alive. Keeps us breathing. That basic instinct is the reason why these animals will never be caught. It’s the reason why the ugly world they’ve built will never die. I didn’t call the police because I understand that any man capable of dropping three million for a little girl is equally as capable of killing her. Without a single moment of hesitation. Without a second thought. Because I understand that the police, who are supposed to protect us, are owned by the same Russian mafia that sold Emma to him in the first place. Because I understand that, by calling the police, Emma and I would both end up dead and they’d do nothing but help him hide the bodies. You know it, too. And that’s why you haven’t called them either.”

  He shook his head softly, feeling her watery eyes burning into his jaw. The way her fingers now trembled as she continued bandaging his neck.

  “If Malik owns the police, why hasn’t he called them to alert them to your abduction?” he asked. “Sounds like a man who’s terrified of the police and hesitant to draw attention to himself.”

  “There are leaks in even the tightest operations. If the police got wind of my abduction, the media would too, and he won’t risk his campaign. He won’t highlight that fact that my captor is demanding the little blonde girl he’s grooming on the top floor of his house. He has the police in his pocket, but that doesn’t mean he wants them knowing all of his business. How deep his perversions really run. Besides, even if I wanted to call the police, I couldn’t. Malik never gave me access to a phone or the Internet. Everything is monitored by his security team. Calls going in—calls going out. Every email. Every guest. Everything.”

  Linc let her words sink in, still unable to meet her eyes.

  Her hands had fallen from his neck before she finished the bandaging. “I’m sorry.”

  His eyes finally flew to hers just as the first tear spilled down her cheek. His face collapsed at the sight.

  Her lips curled and trembled, voice fractured. “I’m sorry that I was too much a coward to do something to help myself. To help Emma.”

  “You’ve been fighting me since the moment I took you.” He paused. “You don’t seem like such a coward to me.”

  “I guess it brought out my courage—being taken. Courage I never even knew I had. Even if only inadvertently, you snatching me, showed me that I could still be strong. Be free. For the first time in years, I had… hope. Deep down, I knew you would never hurt me. I saw it in your eyes. Something that could never exist in Malik’s. Something innately… different. Something good. I knew if I could escape you, I could escape it all. So I tried with everything I had. Of course, it still wasn’t enough.”

  “Even if you had escaped me, you’re one of the most recognizable faces in England. It would’ve only been a matter of time before Malik found you again.”

  “You and I have traversed several countries, and I haven’t been recognized yet. If I’d succeeded in escaping you, I would’ve worn a disguise. I would’ve gotten plastic surgery. It worked for Malik, after all. Shortly after he purchased me, he had my nose done. It’s crazy how drastically the right nose job can change a person’s face. Make them utterly unrecognizable. Even to people who’ve known them all their lives. People who wouldn’t recognize their own daughter, sister, brother… even if they were looking them right in the eyes.” She slapped another tear away when it jetted down her cheek, breathing deeply. “If he could make me unrecognizable to my family and friends back home, I could pay a plastic surgeon to make me unrecognizable to him.”

  “With what money? Pretty damn hard to build a new life with no access to a phone or the Internet.”

  “I managed to take advantage of the precious moments. Usually during events, when Malik and his team were preoccupied. There was once this security guard on Malik’s team, Al. He helped me out a lot. Helped me open a bank account using the name and social security number of an American prostitute he’d once watched Malik kill in cold blood. He got access to her files by sneaking into Malik’s office one night, while Malik was out of the house. He taught me how to hoard money by returning some of the extravagant gifts Malik bought me. By saving the cash he always gave me for mundane, untraceable purchases. Al used to coach me on what I should ask for—what items and what stores—based on which distributors were willing to give refunds in cash. One of Malik’s very few redeeming qualities is that he isn’t cheap. If I asked for it, I got it.” She shook her hair out of her face, sniffling heavily. “Her name was Dominique White—the prostitute Malik killed. She was an orphan before she got abducted and forced into the trade. Al said… he said ‘no one will come looking for her.’”

  Linc frowned softly when that last sentence caused Mia’s face to pull tight.

  “He helped me save over $500,000. It’s all in an account in Dominique’s name. He lifted her birth certificate, her social security number, and her passport from the file he�
�d stolen from Malik’s office. Buried it in a field on the outskirts of London. Probably not far from the house you took me to. He told me to flee the moment I saw an opening. I wanted to take Emma with me. For a while, I believed I might actually get the chance. That one small sliver in time would fall upon me where the stars and moon aligned, and we could both escape together. With Al’s help, it wasn’t a foolish dream. He gave me… hope.” She raised her eyebrows. “But Malik got wind of our relationship. He didn’t like how close we were.”

  Linc’s voice came in. “You were having an affair?”

  She shook her head. “He was also married and faithful to his wife. We had a beautiful friendship, but nothing more. I think Malik would’ve actually been less angry if we were actually sleeping together. It was our deep, genuine, totally platonic bond that bothered him most. So… he killed him.” Her face curled, voice rising as pain stained her eyes. “Right in front of me.” She clapped a hand over her mouth.

  With a deep breath, Linc reached out and swallowed up her lower thigh in his big hand. He took a deep breath to fight past the softness of her skin under his palm, but his heart still went into overdrive when she set her free hand on top of his and squeezed. He squeezed back.

  She lifted her hand from her mouth and used it to cover her eyes, keeping her face hidden until the tears in her eyes had eased. “I miss him every day. And not just him, but the hope he gave me. The hope he gave me for myself and for Emma too.”

  “Do you remember where he buried Dominique’s documents?”

  She took another moment before dropping her hand from her eyes. “Yeah. Which was what gave me the fire I needed to jump down that laundry chute. Well, that, and Emma. She gave me the idea.”

  “How long has Malik had her?”

  “Two years.”