Hard Times: A Dark Captive Romance

by C. Hallman

  We’re at the riverside, where a row of crumbling warehouses sits. It’s impossible to imagine a time when this area might’ve been bustling, full of workers loading up ships to sail around the world.

  Now, it’s obvious from the used needles and condoms littering the broken concrete what people come down here to do. It’s daytime, so we’re the only living creatures around except for birds and rodents and a skinny dog that runs at the sight of us.

  “If you were trying to make me feel better, this is probably the last place you should’ve brought me.” I manage a thin little laugh, but even I can tell how pathetic it sounds.

  “Relax, Sugar. You’re in for a treat, trust me.” Ryker sounds almost happy as Hunter pulls to a stop in front of a graffiti covered brick building. The broken windows remind me of a mouth with missing teeth.

  And they think it’s funny I’m nervous. I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to understand them.

  “Come on. We’re going in.” There’s no arguing with them, since Ryker is out of the truck and opening my door before I know it. He reaches over me to unlock the belt, then gives my arm a tug. “I can’t wait for you to see. I’m actually getting a little hard right now.”

  “I hope you understand that none of this makes any sense.” My eyes dart this way and that, my mind racing as I try to come up with ways to escape if needed. Here I am again, wondering how I can get away from them.

  Right now, there’s no chance of that, since Ryker won’t let go of my arm. I’m sure it’s better for me to play along for the moment, rather than trying to fight my way out of this.

  It smells like rotting wood in here, and it’s easy to see why once my eyes adjust to the semi-darkness. Water drips from what looks like a hundred places in the broken roof, where there’s a gaping hole. When I look up, I can see the sky.

  “Come on, down here.” Hunter leads the way to a set of metal stairs leading down to a basement that I can only imagine is like something out of a nightmare. What choice do I have but to play along? Even if I can’t help but imagine how long it would take anybody to find my body here? And even if they did, I don’t have any ID on me.

  Then again, nobody would care, anyway. Sure, the Sherriff’s office might be glad to know I’m gone, but that’s it. It was always going to turn out this way, wasn’t it? I got a six-month reprieve, is all.

  It’s darker down here, with only a few holes in the floor above us to let in enough light for us to see. My blood runs cold when a rat scurries past, only inches from my feet. I cringe and grab Ryker’s arm, but he only laughs. “After everything you’ve been through, a rat scares you?”

  “It disgusts me. Big difference.”

  It’s not completely open down here the way it is on the main floor. There are doors everywhere, narrow passageways between them. This is probably where the offices were located. I shudder with revulsion at the thought of what’s in them now.

  Hunter stops in front of one of those doors. “You ready to see what we put together for you?”

  It’s not easy to talk with my heart in my throat. I can only nod my head and hope that whatever it is, it’s over with quickly.

  The door swings open with a squeak that makes chills run down my spine like nails on a chalkboard. Inside the room are a bunch of battery-operated lanterns giving off an eerie, greenish blue glow.

  And a chair in the center of the room.

  There’s somebody in it.

  My eyes take in the scene rapidly, moving from one thing to another. The rope, coils and coils of it, holding the person in place on the bare wooden chair. The way their head hangs forward with duct tape over their mouth. It’s a man. A man who stinks. A man whose sweat has soaked his hair and clothes.

  “Surprise!” Ryker goes to him, takes a handful of his hair, and jerks his head up so I can see his face.

  And suddenly, it’s clear. All of it.

  Because I’m looking into the face of my long-lost stepfather.

  20

  “Do you understand yet?” Ryker’s smile stretches from ear-to-ear. He’s like a little boy on Christmas morning, practically bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet.

  I can’t find my voice. My throat is suddenly so dry. Even swallowing takes effort, but I manage it. “Partly.”

  Hunter wraps his arms around me, standing with his chest to my back. “You wanted him dead. After what Ryker told me, I didn’t need any convincing to go along with this six-month odyssey.”

  That’s when the last piece clicks into place, and the picture finally becomes clear. “You weren’t bouncing around because you were running. You were searching for him.” I don’t take my eyes off him, staring in disgust at the man who broke my world to pieces.

  “You bet.” Ryker lets Eric’s head fall forward—honestly, I’m not sure he’s conscious, though I can tell from the rising and falling of his chest that he’s alive. The fucking coward. He’s probably pretending to be unconscious just so he can avoid looking at me. The more I think about it, the surer I am that’s exactly what he’s doing.

  “You did this for me.” I can hardly believe it, but it’s obvious. “You could’ve run, could’ve gone to Malibu and disappeared forever. But you took the risk of somebody trailing you. All so you could find him.”

  “I don’t take a promise slightly, Sugar. You should know that by now.” Ryker comes to me, wipes the hand he touched Eric with on his thigh before taking my face in both hands. I’m sandwiched between them again, the way I was last night, and even considering our surroundings, I feel safe. Protected.

  “I would do anything for you,” he whispers. “So would Hunter. I know we fucked up. We kidnapped, hurt, scared, and threatened to kill you. I figured a sorry would not work in our situation.”

  “You are worth the work we put into this, and I hope you can forgive us for what we put you through.” Hunter’s lips touch my earlobe as he murmurs, “You deserve your revenge for what he did to you and your mom.”

  “I told myself down in the bunker when I decided not to kill you, I was doing it because you deserved to be the one to bring justice down on this piece of shit behind me.” Ryker strokes my cheeks with his thumbs. “I know that was just an excuse—I knew it then, too, but we tell ourselves all kinds of things. The last thing I wanted to do down there was go through with killing you. That’s a fact. You’ll never know how I fought with myself. But like I said, I’m a man of my word. I don’t like breaking promises, even the kind I end up regretting.”

  “I don’t know what to say.” Because seriously, what does a person say when they find out somebody cared enough to track down and restrain the asshole they’ve spent years fantasizing about murdering?

  “You don’t have to say anything. And now, you can do what you have to do.”

  My tongue darts over my lips since my mouth keeps going dry. “It seems too good to be true. It’s like wishing for the moon and not knowing what to do with it once you get it.”

  Hunter chuckles. “Not too good to be true. This is real, you’re here with us, this bastard will never hurt anybody ever again. So long as you do what you know you have to do.”

  “For yourself,” Ryker adds before kissing the tip of my nose. “So you can be free and can finally move on with your life. Make sure he pays for what he did—and that he’ll never, ever be able to do it anybody, ever again.”

  It’s that little part at the end that clears my head and brings everything into focus. The idea that the bastard tied to the chair, the man who took away the only person who ever loved me, could ruin another girl’s life. Could bring another loving mother’s life to an end. All things considered, I turned out okay. Fucked up, but I got through it in one piece.

  How many broken children did I see in my short time on the force? How many terrified, wide-eyed, trembling babies did I meet after their daddy beat their mommy, and possibly them, too?

  I lean against Hunter while wrapping my arms around Ryker’s waist. “Thank you both. I’d say you don
’t know what this means to me, but I think you do.”

  “What are you going to do about this?” Ryker steps away from me, letting me see Eric again. Funny, but I’ve always remembered him as being so tall and powerful. Now he brings to mind a pathetic bully, beaten and broken and sitting in his own piss-stained pants.

  There’s not a hint of weakness in my legs or any part of my body as I take a step closer to him, close enough that the toes of my sneakers are almost touching the toes of his shoes. “Look at me.” My voice doesn’t even sound like it’s mine anymore—and I like that. “Eric. Look at me. Stop being a coward for once in your life and pick your head up, you piece of shit. We both know you can hear me. We both know you’re awake. Stop faking.”

  When he doesn’t respond, I add, “I can make sure these two get your eyes open. Should I ask them to do it?”

  That’s enough for him. He lifts his head slowly, and when his eyes meet mine, I bite back a wave of revulsion that threatens to make me puke up a breakfast sandwich and hash brown all over him. I’ve seen those eyes in my nightmares. And now they’re full of cold, hard rage.

  But once again, I know better. I can see through him now. I couldn’t when I was a kid, but now, I know there is a deep, bottomless well of fear inside him. It was always there, the way it is for all bullies and cowards.

  “You thought you’d never see me again, didn’t you? You figured you could move on, and nobody would ever know what you did. Right? I was in your rearview mirror.” When he looks away, I jerk my chin at Ryker, and he takes Eric’s hair in his hand and yanks hard. I hear the prick whimpering behind the duct tape, and something inside me screams in joy.

  “Eyes on me, fucker.” I lean in, staring into those empty eyes of his, like two black holes. “It’s time for you to pay for what he did. You have no idea the things I’ve imagined doing to you because of what you did to her.”

  Something about that gets him whimpering again before he starts wordlessly babbling behind the duct tape. There are tears rolling down his cheeks now and snot dripping from his nose. He’s sweating bullets, big fat drops of it tumbling down his cheeks, soaking into his polo shirt.

  “Get rid of the tape.”

  Hunter touches my shoulder. “Are you sure you want to do that?”

  “I want to hear what he has to say for himself. Don’t all condemned men get a chance to speak their last words?”

  Ryker shrugs before tearing the tape from Eric’s face. He lets out a yelp of pain before begging, “Annie, please. You don’t understand how sorry I am for what I did to your mom. I’m not the man I used to be. I stopped drinking, and I don’t touch drugs anymore. I started anger management classes.”

  I throw my head back and laugh. “See, I could almost believe the first two, but not that last bit. You’re trying too hard. No way would you ever admit you have a problem and do anything about it.”

  I crouch down so we’re at eye-level. “Maybe now you know how she felt, even just a little. That fear, the pain. Not being able to predict what comes next. The way she used to walk around on eggshells. How she used to bend over backwards to make sure everything was the way you wanted it. All because she knew what would happen if she didn’t. And even then, you sick son of a bitch, most of the time it wouldn’t matter. You would find fault with something because you wanted to find fault. You would hurt her because you wanted to hurt her. What does it feel like now, knowing you have no control over the situation?”

  “Please, please, Annie! Don’t I deserve a second chance?”

  “You had your second chance!” I’m screaming, roaring, and it feels so good. So many years of carrying this around inside me, and I finally get to let it out. “You had years. Years lived in freedom. You should’ve been locked up, but you were allowed to go and do whatever you wanted to. You’ve already had the chance you denied my mother, so don’t bother with your pathetic begging.”

  Hunter presses something against my palm. “Here. Do what you need to do.”

  My fingers close around it an instant before I realize I’m holding a baseball bat. Aluminum, with nice heft. I pick it up, examine it, then tap it against my other palm.

  Our eyes meet again, and something inside me screams in joy. He’s weeping openly, choking on his snot. “Annie, Annie, this isn’t you! You were always a gentle girl! A good girl! Your mother wouldn’t—”

  It’s like the bat’s moving for me, swinging out and connecting with his shoulder before I even know what’s going to happen. He yelps, cringing as much as he can considering how much rope they have wrapped around him.

  “Don’t you ever speak of her,” I hiss. “And don’t ever, ever tell me what she would and wouldn’t want. You don’t deserve to talk about her.”

  And then I smile. Something about it turns his face into a mask of horror. It’s like something inside me snapped, and I don’t care. “Don’t worry. You won’t have to think twice about what you’re allowed to say much longer.”

  And then, both hands on the bat, I take a swing. His scream only strengthens me, and every time I bring the bat down on his head, his face, his body, I see images flashing before my eyes. Images of Mom, the way he left her on the kitchen floor in a pool of blood. Again, again, until my arms are weak, and my shoulders burn and I can hardly breathe.

  By the time the bat drops from my hand with a clatter that echoes through the empty space, I’m completely exhausted.

  Completely alive.

  Hunter gatherers me in his arms, and Ryker does the same. I rest my head against his shoulder, holding onto Hunter’s arms with my hands.

  “Are you okay, Sugar?” Ryker whispers before pressing his lips against the side of my head.

  Am I? I feel empty inside. Hollowed out. I got what I wanted, and I killed the man who took my world away. I watched him die, heard his screams until there were no more screams left. He suffered the way she did, the way he made me suffer for so long without her.

  But I also feel peace. Calm.

  “Yes. Yes, thanks to you two.”

  “That’s good enough for me,” Hunter decides, and Ryker nods in agreement.

  Maybe there’s something wrong with me feeling this way after killing someone, but that’s something I must deal with some other time. I can’t worry about it now. All I can do is be grateful for it.

  Epilogue

  One Year Later

  A year. It’s hard to believe it’s been that long since the last day outside Phoenix when I got my money together, abandoned my car and took off with the two men who’ve been my world ever since. The two men who freed me the day they took me prisoner.

  I can’t help but smile as I gaze out through the window over the kitchen sink, where I’m finishing washing vegetables for our salad. Outside is the wide expanse of beach I’ve been gazing at for the past year.

  They’re out there now, and nobody with the slightest idea of what was on their records would believe it if they saw it: Hunter and Ryker helping a couple of kids from a few doors down build an epic sandcastle. I can hear them laughing as the waves crash against the shore.

  Now that they’re free, really and truly, I’ve had the joy of watching them settle into normal life. We even hang around in bed on Sunday mornings reading the newspaper, drinking coffee, and eating breakfast together. I nag them about chores the way women nag their men, too, and I have the joy of seeing them roll their eyes when I ask that one of them empty the trash and take it out to the can rather than leave it outside the front door.

  It’s so mundane, so average, and it fills my heart with a bliss I never imagined for myself. I never took the time to sit down and imagine what life would be like once Eric was out of the world and I was free to move on from the trauma he inflicted. I never visualized what my happily ever after would look like.

  And maybe it’s a good thing I didn’t, because I couldn’t have come up with this scenario if I tried a million times to picture my future. Living on the beach in a comfortable house with two men I ador
e and who adore me ten times over.

  Once I have the pasta drained, I call out through the open window. “It’s almost time for dinner! Better come in and wash up!” I watch with a smile as they say goodbye for now to the kids and jog up to the deck running along the back of the house where they use the hose to rinse the sand from their feet before coming inside.

  “It smells amazing in here.” Hunter stands behind me at the stove as I stir the spaghetti sauce one last time before using it to dress the pasta. His fingers grip my hips firmly, but lovingly, and he growls against my neck. “You know how horny it gets me when you cook.”

  “I cook every day!”

  “Exactly.” He nibbles my neck, chuckling, before going to the sink to wash his hands.

  “I never thought building a sandcastle would work up an appetite.” Ryker takes the salad bowl to the table, and Hunter follows with the pasta. I take the meatballs from their pot and carry them along with a plate of garlic bread.

  It’s all so normal. Happy, and the opposite of what I would expect life to be like with two criminals. But I’m a criminal, too. I’m a thief and a murderer.

  And I’ve never felt surer of myself or more comfortable in my skin than I do now.

  I know it has a lot to do with the men heaping food on their plates, digging in with gusto. Now that we’ve settled into domestic bliss, I’m even learning things about myself. Like how it pleases me to watch people enjoy my cooking, even when it’s something as simple as spaghetti. I love knowing I can provide for them the way they provide for me. I love knowing I take care of them.

  “These meatballs are the best you ever made.” Ryker spears one on his fork before taking a big bite.