“It’s the silver one on the end. It opens the deadbolt and the door lock.”
Rowan makes quick work of the locks and opens the door, stepping back so I can walk in first. Throwing my duffel to the floor, I walk into the kitchen and set the dog food down. I hear the front door close and the locks re-engage, and then Rowan walks in behind me with Capone on her heels.
“Do you mind if I feed him and give him some water?”
“Not at all.”
Reaching into a cupboard, I pull out two large, stainless-steel bowls. I hand her one and I take the other to the sink to fill up. I can hear Rowan ripping into the dog food and scooping some into the bowl.
Capone is in doggie heaven when we set both of the bowls down. Poor pup goes immediately for the water, and I’m not surprised with him running around outside all day. After he has his fill, he lifts that big, shaggy head and water spills out from the sides of his mouth all over my floor. Grimacing inside, I resist the urge to get a towel and mop it up. I don’t want to do anything that makes Rowan feel uncomfortable to be here, and if I have to learn to live with some dog slobber, then I’ll do it.
Capone turns to the food and starts chomping away. We both just watch him silently for a few minutes. He’s a clear multitasker because he steadily keeps his face buried in the food, all the while wagging his tail to show his happiness.
When I look at Rowan, she’s watching him with a look of worry on her face.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
She doesn’t respond at first and then she slowly drags her gaze away from the dog, but by the time her eyes meet mine, the worry is gone. “Nothing. I’m good. Just happy to have him back.”
She’s lying to me... I know it. She’s very smooth at it and makes her transition easily, but I can still see the lie in her eyes.
“Tell you what... let’s discuss a game plan for the night. I suggest we order a pizza to be delivered. I’m sure you’d like a nice shower, since you smell like the inside of a fireplace, and I’ll give you some of my clothes to wear for the night. Then we’ll discuss your next move.”
She opens her mouth as if she’s going to argue with me about discussing her next move, but then just as quickly shuts it. I’m clever enough to know that she’s not capitulating, just putting off having to engage in conversation with me.
“I’ll take you up on that,” she says. “But I need to walk Capone after he’s done eating.”
“I’ll handle that,” I tell her. “Come on back to my room... let me grab you some clothes and you can get in the shower.”
She follows me back down the short hall to my bedroom. Opening the door, I sigh inwardly at the mess. I’ve got dirty clothes strewn all over the floor and old beer bottles on the nightstand. At least I don’t keep dirty dishes back here.
Reaching into my dresser drawer, I pull out a t-shirt and a pair of workout shorts that have a drawstring that she can use to keep them up around her tiny waist. She takes them and I point across the hall. “Bathroom is right there. Clean towels are under the sink.”
She starts to walk that way but then turns around. “How are you going to walk Capone? You don’t have a leash.”
I think about it a minute and then I’m struck with an idea. Reaching into my top drawer, I pull out a tie. I don’t have many of them but I grab a hideous Donald Duck tie that Renner gave me for Christmas a few years ago.
Holding it up, I show Rowan the tie, hoping I will finally see a smile poke through. It doesn’t come but she does give me what could be considered a caustic smirk.
“That’s resourceful,” she says, her voice only a few degrees warmer than it normally is.
I will not be deterred.
I will not be deterred.
After repeating that silently twice, I give her a huge smile. “I thought so, too. Now, go take a nice, long shower. By the time you get done, I’ll have Capone taken care of and the pizza will be here.”
Rowan’s gray eyes seem to lighten a bit and she opens her mouth as if she’s going to say something. Then she just gives a slight shake of her head and turns away to head into the bathroom.
Walking Capone was pretty easy. I tied the Donald Duck tie to his collar, knotting it twice in case he tried to pull away from me. But he was well behaved and walked by my side the entire time. The only bad thing was I had to pick up his crap, which was the size of a football, and dump it in the nearest pet receptacle. Thank God Rowan had yelled out to me before I left to take a plastic bag just for that momentous event.
The pizza dude is at my apartment door when I get back with Capone. He keeps a worried eye on the big dog as I dig money out of my wallet and hand it to him.
When we step into the apartment, I see Rowan sitting on my couch, running her fingers through her wet hair. She’s swimming in my clothes but she actually looks like she has a little color back in her face. She’ll feel even better after she gets some food and has a good night’s sleep.
She looks up at me, and I’m again struck by the beauty of her gray eyes, particularly with her dark hair hanging in wet chunks around her face.
“I used your razor to shave my legs.”
Her voice is unapologetic about using my razor, but it doesn’t matter. My blood boils with sympathy and anger over the fact she was chained like an animal and roughing up my good razor is hardly worth thinking about.
“No worries,” I tell her with a smile. “Use anything you like.”
She suddenly grins at me wickedly. “In that case, I also used your toothbrush.”
Laughing, I walk into the kitchen. Her first real smile and it came with a devilish and cocky attitude. I’ve not known her long, but I bet I could safely say that is classic Rowan. “Come get some pizza. No telling when you had a good meal last, right?”
Setting the pizza down on my small kitchen table, I turn around and Rowan is right there. She smells like my spicy body wash and, up close, her gray eyes are softer, more liquid. Looking at her now, dressed in my clothes and removed from the horrendous nature of her captivity, she looks different to me.
Beautiful. Angelic. Captivating.
I didn’t notice it before, because I was looking at her strictly through the lenses of my fireman’s glasses. She was a job... a person to save.
Now that I have her safely tucked away from danger, I’m seeing her through the eyes of a man. And this man likes what he’s seeing.
But sadly, I can’t go there. I’m doing this to help Rowan out of a bad situation, because that is what I do... I help people. I don’t bring home beautiful and tragic women so I can get my rocks off.
Tearing my thoughts away from that direction, I open the box. “I got pepperoni. I figured everyone likes pepperoni.”
She leans over the box and inhales deeply. “Oh, my God. I think I could eat that whole pizza. I’m so hungry.”
Reaching into the cupboard, I pull out two plates and hand them to her. While she takes them to the table and sits down, I pull two sodas out of the fridge. Popping the tops off, I walk over and sit down across from her, handing her the drink.
She takes a deep swallow and sighs. “Thanks.”
I point to the box. “Eat up.”
Setting the can down, Rowan reaches in and grabs a slice. She doesn’t even lay it on her plate but brings it to her mouth to take a huge bite. The moan that bubbles up from her throat causes my skin to crawl. It’s not a sexual moan, but rather the sound of someone that hasn’t had food in a while. Anger bolts through me again over what has been done to her.
I just watch her. She gobbles down bite after bite of pizza, polishing the crust off quickly. She reaches for another piece and takes a bite, closing her eyes as she savors the taste. When she opens them back up, she glances my way and stops chewing.
“What?” she asks, her mouth full.
“I’m sorry for what you went through.” It’s all I can think to say, because it’s the only thing I can offer her right now.
Rowan swallows the food
in her mouth and sets the remaining slice on her plate. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“I’m not asking you to. I just wanted you to know I’m sorry. No one should be treated like that.”
She pins me with a hard stare for what seems like forever. I don’t waver and I don’t look away. I hold her gaze so she knows I’m saying nothing more than I have sympathy for her.
Apparently satisfied I’m not trying to worm information from her, she picks her pizza back up and starts eating again. I use that as my clue to go ahead and start. I pick up a slice and take a bite, wondering what’s going to happen to Rowan tomorrow.
5
I slowly come awake, pushing the covers down to my waist. It’s hot... unbearably so, and I’m sure that’s what woke me up. Bringing my hand to my face, I wipe at my brow and find it drenched in sweat.
Taking a deep breath through my mouth, I’m confused that the air itself feels hot and dry. My lungs feel compressed and I struggle to take in another breath of air, this time through my nose.
I smell smoke.
It’s getting hotter by the second and then flames erupt from the floor, starting to climb the walls on either side of the bed. I try to yell out... to Flynn... to anyone... but smoke is now overwhelming me and I can’t even make a sound. A hacking cough sneaks out, and I cover my mouth and nose with my hand, trying to filter the air.
Then I hear laughing.
Peering through the smoke, I see Juice standing by the door. He’s leaning against it casually, with his arms crossed over his chest. He just looks at me... and laughs, and laughs, and laughs.
I sit up in bed and reach down to the chain I know is wrapped around my ankle, intent on trying to pull myself free. When I reach down, I’m stunned to find my leg is free and there is no manacle keeping me in this bed.
The smoke is so thick now. I can’t see which way to the door, so I drop to the floor where I know the air quality will be better. Frantically crawling in the direction I believe the exit to be, I can only hope the flames haven’t spread enough to prevent my escape. I don’t even worry about where Juice is. My body is on autopilot and it’s working only to get away from the fire.
Suddenly, hands reach down and grab my shoulders. I shudder in relief.
Flynn!
My body is pulled up and I thankfully look into the eyes of my savior.
Except it’s not Flynn.
It’s Juice.
And he pushes me back down onto the bed and quickly locks a cuff around my ankle, shackling the other end to the bed frame.
Casually tossing the key over his shoulder, he turns around and walks into the smoke, disappearing from my view.
That’s when I start screaming.
“Rowan... wake up.”
Someone is screaming. A woman, I think.
I struggle to open my eyes and when I do, the shrieking noise stops.
Flynn is sitting on the bed beside me, holding onto my shoulders lightly. He’s looking at me with worry lining his face. Capone is lying beside me, his head resting on my lap. His beautiful brown eyebrows are scrunched inward with an equal look of concern.
Sitting up, I rub at my eyes with one hand and absently stroke Capone’s head with the other. “Who was screaming? Is everything okay?”
Flynn’s hands drop away and his worried look increases. “You were screaming. Scared the shit out of me.”
“Me?” I ask, stupefied.
But then, it all comes pouring back to me.
My dream.
Juice laughing at me, a fire raging around me, searching for Flynn to save me and knowing that I was going to die chained to a bed.
“It was just a bad dream. I didn’t mean to wake you.” My voice is soft, barely above a whisper. My body shudders hard and I feel like I’m going to vomit.
The remnants of the dream still linger with me now, so real that I wouldn’t be surprised if Juice stepped out of the closet to continue his taunts. I can’t help myself when I pull my legs up, just to verify they aren’t chained to the bed. Relief floods through me when I realize I’m free from restraints.
In all my life, I know I’ll never experience anything as traumatizing as what these last three days have been for me. I hate admitting weakness, but damn if Juice didn’t about break me. I had come so close to escaping...Capone and me. So close to having freedom, I could taste it. Just as I can now actually feel Juice’s claws sink into my shoulder as he caught me sneaking out the door.
“Think you can handle a shot of whiskey?” Flynn asks.
I nod my head, thinking there’s no way I’m getting back to sleep without it.
“I’ll be right back,” he says as he stands up from the bed.
Flynn had put me in his guest room, which has nothing more than a bed in it, but it was more than comfortable enough for me. I mean... it didn’t have chains attached to it.
I should feel comfortable... relaxed... safe. But a sudden surge of fear courses through me and I jump out of the bed. “I’ll come with you.”
Flynn glances over his shoulder, again with another worried look, but then walks out of the room with me hot on his heels.
I follow him into the kitchen and sit at the table, while he takes out two small glasses and pours healthy shots of whiskey in each. He sits at the table and picks up his glass, waiting for me to do the same.
In the harsh fluorescent light of the kitchen, and away from the darkness of my dreams, I just now notice that Flynn is wearing a pair of sweatpants... and that’s all he’s wearing.
I knew he was a big guy, but without his shirt on, I can definitely appreciate that this big guy clearly works out. He has a beautifully artistic cut to his muscles... well-defined ripples but not a bulked-up, steroid look.
I’m not interested... but I’m not dead either.
“Here’s to a dreamless sleep,” he says, and then raises his glass in toast. As his arm reaches out, I notice a tattoo inked onto the inside of his bicep. It says, “Semper” and I wonder what it means but I don’t bother asking.
Like I said... I’m not interested.
I clink my glass against his and then toss the whiskey back, reveling in the burn as it slides down my throat, hitting my stomach in a warm puddle. Flynn follows suit and downs his drink.
I don’t even wait for him to set his glass back down before I pick up the bottle, finally noticing the brand.
Jameson’s. Good choice.
I pour two more healthy shots. There’s no toasting this time.
I pick up the glass without waiting for him and shoot it back just as fast.
Flynn doesn’t touch his though and just stares at me. “Want to talk about it?”
I run my finger along the edge of the glass and consider pouring another, but I’m really not that big of a drinker. I’m also not that big of a talker, and I can only assume the whiskey has loosened me up because I’m absolutely surprised by myself when I answer him.
“I dreamed I was in a burning room and trying to escape, but then Juice caught me and chained me to the bed. No brainer, right?”
Flynn picks up his glass and takes a healthy swallow. Looking at me over the rim, he says, “It’s not unusual after what you’ve been through.”
I can’t help myself. I’m always on the defensive. “And you want to know all the sordid details, right?”
Setting his glass down and pushing it away, Flynn looks at me with such seriousness, I want to drop my gaze to the table. “Rowan... I could care less if you tell me the details. If you want to, I’ll listen and be a friend to you. If you want to take the story to your grave, I’ll respect it. I’m not pushing you for anything.”
God, he sounds so sincere. I want to believe him. There’s a feeling inside of me that is telling me to trust him. I can only imagine it’s because he saved my life.
And he helped me find Capone.
And he gave me a safe place to stay tonight.
But I don’t easily trust and I just don’t have it in me to s
hare much more. So instead, I remain quiet and I pour myself one more shot of the amber liquid that beckons from the bottle before me. I’m sure he takes my silence as the subject is closed.
“Let’s talk about something that’s actually a bit more important,” Flynn says.
I look at him in surprise. “What’s that?”
“What your future holds. I’m worried about what’s going to happen to you.”
His words are sweet and they warm me slightly, but I brush them off. Rule number one I learned when I arrived in New York... never depend on anyone else but yourself.
“I appreciate the sentiment, but I can take care of myself. It’s not your place to worry about me.”
His hazel eyes regard me warmly and a small smile graces the corners of his mouth. He reaches his hand out, grabbing mine, and I want to pull it away but I don’t. “Yet, I worry about you all the same. And I even worry about that damned, furry beast of yours, too.”
I can’t help how suspicious I am. It’s ingrained into me. I also cannot help the glare that plasters to my face. The cynicism that is melded to my personality almost makes me hate myself. “Why? We’re not your problem.”
Flynn releases my hand and leans back in his chair. He links his hands together and rests them on his stomach. As he crosses one long leg over the other, his muscles bunch and then relax against his sweatpants. “I don’t consider you a problem, Rowan. But I would like to help you if you’ll let me.”
“Why?” I persist. He hasn’t answered my question, and until he does so sufficiently, I have no more trust in him than I do Juice at this point.
“Why not? You seem like a nice girl, you’ve been treated like shit, you got a really cute dog, and it’s within my power to help you. So, why not?”
I’ll admit... that is a good answer. He doesn’t pretend to know me, he doesn’t seem to want anything in return, and his tone of voice suggests to me that he truly wants to help. I push the third shot of whiskey away from me because I don’t want the alcohol clouding my judgment.
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