His Captive, The Unabridged Collection: Billionaire Dark Romance

by Watson, Meg

  “— she was your sister?” I interrupted him, finding the courage somehow to take a small step toward him. It seemed to throw him off balance and he winced visibly, shaking his head as if to clear it.

  “Don't you say her name!”

  I paused to let him catch his breath. Silence settled between us.

  “You can't hurt me anymore, Bronson,” I said.

  He squinted at me, his eyes tracing my outlines over and over.

  “You don't know what I can do.”

  I looked down. I knew that jerking his chain would inevitably lead to another backhand across my cheek or boot point to my belly. And there was no way Rafe would get back in time to stop him. I needed to simply get out.

  “You don't know what I can do either,” I mumbled, unable to stop myself.

  “Oh yeah? Try me.”

  He nodded and grinned cruelly, his tongue coming out in a quick swipe over his lower lip. Every time he rolled forward on the balls of his feet I could see the outline of his cock in his dark red trousers. I wasn't sure if he was always erect or if threatening me just got him off.

  Why can't I just learn to be quiet for once and for all?

  “Nevermind…” I mumbled. I started to walk toward the door but Bronson quickly sidestepped with his hands palm out, blocking my way.

  “Where you think you going, Julie?"

  “I'm just going to —”

  “— because that's your name, right? Julie? Julie Hatner?"

  I blinked at him, suddenly dumbstruck. I was having a hard time getting used to hearing my name again, but the way he said it, all drawn out and venomous... I hadn't heard it like that in a long time.

  “Julie Hatner from Marina, isn't it?”

  I felt my feet sliding backward along the marble tiles and my hands fluttered up, stop.

  “Marina, no. I don't know what you're talking about—"

  “Oh, I think you do,” he nodded. With every step that I took backward, he took a step forward. In a few seconds my back was pressed against the cold plaster wall.

  “See, I'm real good at finding things out. Real good. Would you like to know what I found out?”

  I shook my head. No.

  “Oh, I think you gonna want to hear this. You seemed so lonely. I mean, you should know… There are people looking for you. You don’t have to be lonely, Julie. Did you know that?"

  I shook my head again, harder than before.

  “Like, you got a little brother don't you?”

  “No.”

  “Oh yeah you do. Don't lie. I can't fucking stand liars.”

  His eyes went all bright and gleaming as he came up right next to me. He was only inches away, and I couldn't be sure if that was because he hadn't decided what to do yet, or he knew what Rafe would do to him once he did decide.

  “Liars can get a man killed you know,” he snarled in my ear. His breath was oily and fetid. “Liars can ruin a man's whole life and just make him wish he was killed.”

  No. That's not right.

  “Because what I heard… I heard your mama is still looking for you. I heard… Well, let me see if I got this straight.”

  He stepped back a half step, cocking his head to the side theatrically and hanging his knuckles through his belt loops. He screwed his mouth up as though he was really trying to formulate the words, to frame it all up.

  “I heard… That you had the hots for your mama's man, is that right?”

  I shook my head. No.

  “Oh yeah, that's what I heard. I heard you were quite the little whore. Even your mama says so."

  He squinted at me, measuring my response. I gave him nothing, but my heart banged my chest like it wanted out.

  "And when you couldn't have him, you made up some story about how he used to…” His eyes covered my body in a figure eight and he twirled one finger in the air, pointing lewdly at my sex. “You know… Interfere with you?”

  “No, that's not what —”

  “— and when nobody gave a shit about a little liar like you, you bounced around, grifting on just anybody who would fall for your sob story?”

  “Bronson, let me go.”

  “Yeah, let's go… How about we go tell Rafe all about you right now? Hm? Because I think he would be real interested to know about Ricky… About your mama…”

  He slid closer to me again and my hands went up automatically, slapping hard against his chest and pushing him back.

  His eyes flew wide, and a smile stretched across his face like a scar.

  “Oh ho ho! You want to play, Julie? Because I would just love to play with you, baby. And I will not let you off so lightly this time.”

  “Bronson, let me out of here!"

  I pushed past him, jamming my shoulder under his arm and trying to leverage my weight so that I would at least have a have a second to break away. He whirled around and snatched at the back of my dress, dropping me hard to the floor on my knees. My hands slapped so loudly against the marble that I could instantly feel my palms bruise.

  “Maybe you're right,” he hissed, instantly behind me and on top of me, his lips brushing against the back of my ear. “Let's go find Rafe… Tell him what you are. Let's tell him he's got another little murderer to take care of —”

  "— I am not!"

  I twisted violently underneath him, throwing my knee against his hip and sliding away. I tried to crawl on the tile floor but his hand snapped around my ankle like a shackle. He dragged me back, my skin squeaking as the marble scraped at it like a rasp.

  When I was closer to him, he shifted over me almost faster than I could see. I was pinned down underneath him with his bony hips digging against my belly and his cock throbbing insistently on my thigh.

  “RAFE!” I screamed.

  Bronson's fingers clamped over my jaw, forcing my mouth open and his palm between my teeth. I bit down as hard as I could and he jerked back, his hand instantly curling into a fist that I barely dodged before it cracked against the marble right next to where my head had been. He yelled in pain and rolled halfway off me but not before clapping his fingers around my ankle again so that I couldn't get away.

  Panting, twisting, I kicked mercilessly at his hand but he lengthened his arm and turned his head to the far side, taking a few seconds to catch his breath while I was too far away make contact with my flailing feet.

  “Little murderer,” he gasped, somehow managing to laugh. “Little fucking bitch whore murderer. You think Rafe is going to want you? You shoulda been on his table this whole time, you bitch. How many more lies you think he's going to stand for?"

  I bit back a scream that wanted to explode out of my mouth. Murderer. What was I going to say? Trying to convince him would mean admitting half of what he said had at least a sliver of truth. But I couldn’t give him an inch, no matter what. It wasn't my fault.

  Bronson had half a story, the only half my mother would have been able to tell. It sure sounded like he really had found her. And if he found her, that meant pretty soon she was going to find me.

  I have to leave. Now.

  I had to get away from Bronson but I had to get away from Rafe too. There was no one left to stand up for me, who even knew the rest of the truth. Aunt Rinna was maybe the only person who ever even tried. She kept taking me in even though I kept doing the worst things. I stole her money. I destroyed her car when I was 14. I cost her a whole crop of alfalfa one year when I set the seed on fire smoking in the barn.

  I swore relentlessly and wouldn't go to church or school and cursed her name and called her the foulest things I could think of over and over again. And yeah, she sent me away a few times, but she always took me back. Always sorry, always striving to be more patient. And every time she put her hand out to me I bit it again and again. Maybe not right away, but eventually I bit the fuck out of it.

  That last time that I woke up in my room with Ricky crawling up from the bottom of my bed, a fog of cheap beer and cigarette smoke about him, his dick hanging out of his pants, d
ripping and ready... Rinna was there. I woke from a dream to find him straddled on top of me with one hand clamped over my mouth. Aunt Rinna must have heard me cry somehow and when I glanced over I could see the silhouette of her in her long, modest nightgown as she stood in the open doorway. She didn't say a word and silently left. In less than ten seconds back she was back, and the next thing I heard was the cock of the shotgun.

  And then I don't really know. I ran out of the room before I heard the blast. I ran down the stairs and through the front parlor and onto the front porch.

  All I wanted to do was set his car on fire. It seemed fair to me at the time. It was a baby blue Impala that was always supposed to be mine. Rinna had it in her barn for decades and told me when I was little that I could have it when I was 16. Before I got old enough, my mother gave it to Ricky. When I ran onto the porch and saw it there, shining under the single security light hung from the corner of the barn, I don't know what I thought. Rinna had stood up for me. It gave me courage.

  So when the car went up in flames, I felt a burst of pride after a whole lifetime of helplessness. I cast my eyes back to the house and waited, knowing eventually Aunt Rinna would come to the porch. And then we could finally, really understand each other. I wanted to thank her for what she had done for me.

  But she didn't come, or else she didn't come back in time. Too fast, the flames from the car’s backend caught something in the trunk that wanted to explode. That belched an arc of fire onto the porch and through the open windows to the heavy drapes. And then everything else just went up like it was made of kindling. Nobody ever came out.

  I stood there waiting as long as I could, screaming against the darkness for Rinna to find me. When I heard the sirens on the road, I knew exactly what they were going to think. What people always thought. The worst.

  So I ran and ran and ran, figuring out what I needed to do along the way. I thought I was getting better at it. I thought they might've forgotten about me. But they were still out there. Now the only people left were people who hated me. And the only person who could defend me was just ash.

  I let my head fall back heavily on the tile and stared up at the checkerboard pattern on the ceiling.

  “There must be a thousand Julie Hatner's,” I said, my voice suddenly and strangely calm.

  Yes that's right. I could be anybody. I could be nobody.

  Bronson coughed into his hand, hocking up something that sounded thick and yellow.

  “A liar is a liar is a liar, Julie. You can't believe a fucking word they say.”

  “I don’t care if you believe me or not,” I said robotically.

  I am nobody. Nobody.

  The thought was almost pleasing. I could just drift away again. Maybe next time not do something as dumb as giving my real name to the police, for pete’s sake. Why did I do that anyway? Unbelievably stupid.

  I did it for him. Absolute honesty.

  I pulled myself back up to sitting as a surge of determination washed through me. Aunt Rinna was not the only person who had ever understood me. There was one more. And I needed to be with him. Right now.

  “Let me go," I said loudly.

  Bronson rolled over onto his side, letting one hand fall casually and tapping his fingers on the floor. He squinted and pursed his lips thoughtfully.

  “You're not allowed in there,” he said, sneering.

  I shrugged. “That's not what he said yesterday.”

  Bronson's eyebrows twisted together. “The fuck is that supposed to mean?”

  “It means… I do what he tells me,” I said simply. Bronson's fingers flicked open distractedly as he shook his head, trying to piece it together.

  “No way… No way, you didn't —"

  I stood up, primly snapping at the fabric of my dress and rearranging it neatly over my body.

  “I do what he tells me,” I repeated with a small smile.

  Bronson got his heels underneath him and pushed himself up to standing. He paced several steps back and forth rapidly.

  “The fuck you talking about? This is over, over, do you understand me? This is done.”

  I shrugged casually with one shoulder. I could almost feel Rafe’s presence in the room, protecting me.

  “I don't see why it should be,” I said reasonably. “Rafe is doing a public service. He does what he has to do. You should understand that."

  Bronson's hands flew up and his mouth gaped open in shock.

  “Do you even know what you're saying? Do you know what goes on in that chapel?"

  “I do.”

  “And he—” Bronson pointed one finger at me, then let it drop. A montage of emotions flickered over his face, and then he peered at me through narrowed eyes. “Wait, you think he's doing this because he has to.”

  I said nothing, merely letting my head fall to one side as though I was impatiently waiting to be allowed out of the room and back to the side of my man like I was supposed to be.

  “Oh… That is what you think, isn't it? Yeah well… It maybe started out like that. After my sister and Gemma… But it ain't like that anymore, and you want to know why?”

  I stood as still as a statue.

  “Why? Because the big finale, the big show got interrupted by some lying whore who got herself seen with Rafe! Who got herself all tied up in shit she has no right to be! What was supposed to be over…”

  He waved his arms helplessly at his sides. I refused to be moved by any of it. Finally he just dropped his hands, disgusted, and threw his head back.

  “Oh, yeah, you think you're the fucking princess now, don't you? Well guess what, Rafe made promises to other people too, okay?”

  He stabbed the air in my general direction. Shiny patches of sweat had broken out irregularly on his pocked forehead.

  “Yeah, he made promises! And this shit show is over! Okay? Your services are no longer needed, little lying fuck whore, because I delivered the real thing!”

  I crossed my arms, gently resting my fingers against my elbows. Bronson stared at me with hate in his eyes for several seconds too long, long enough for me to figure out what he was saying.

  “If it needs to be over then fine,” I said, then faltered. “Wait. If it's over then… How… you mean...?"

  A sideways grin stretched over one half of his face and he pulled his upper lip back to show the black, pitted gums.

  “Oh yeah, that's right. Show’s over now, honey. Rachel's here.”

  CHAPTER 3

  As I ran to the chapel my heart fluttered so fast against my ribs that I thought it might give out.

  Bronson ran just behind me on my heels, his toes scraping against me as he dogged every step. He wouldn't stop laughing. He just wouldn't stop.

  I pulled hard at the wide white door and then stood there when it swung open, trying in vain to catch my breath. My mind was drowning in thoughts and images and I was afraid I was too late.

  “You want to say goodbye?” Bronson hissed in my ear. “You better ask nice before you go in there. Don't want to make your man angry now, do you?”

  I didn't want to do anything that Bronson said but I knew he was right. I stood on the balls my feet with my hands splayed, trying to center myself, trying to make sense of what I was seeing.

  Rachel was strapped tight to the gurney, still apparently unconscious. I could see only the top of her head, her long, golden hair streaming off the end of the gurney like a banner. The strong beam of light bounced off her skin and glowed like a halo that covered her whole body.

  Slowly I crept around the outside edge of the room. Bronson hung back in the doorway, apparently unwilling to intrude on the ritual. His eyes glittered from the shadows as he watched me, and I could see him nodding his head, sarcastic and sneering.

  Rafe was on the other side, his back facing me, bent over the array of tables as he had been yesterday. His hands floated above the blades reverently. Though he must have known I was there, he gave no sign.

  I held onto the wall to steady myself and s
tared, wide-eyed at the scene. Rachel breathed deeply, her chest rising and falling against the thick strap that covered her naked breasts. Her hands hung limp in the smaller cuffs. Her fingers were long and elegant, almost dainty, dwarfed by the large leather bindings.

  I heard Bronson suck his teeth from his position by the door and ignored him as best as I could. I silently called out to Rafe, hoping our connection would let me reach him.

  But the line was dead.

  Slowly he turned, holding a clear plastic IV bag and a coil of tubing. He looped the bag over the stand and then drew the tubing out. For a long time, he held the hollow needle in his fingers and simply stared down at her. He looked curious, almost bemused. Then he drew a deep breath and plunged the needle into a vein above her narrow wrist.

  The look in his eyes said it all. It was far more intense than the one he wore when he stood over Micah Humboldt the night before. Rachel was his great prize, the one he'd been after. He looked almost ecstatic.

  I found myself hoping that he would simply take her quietly, mercifully while she was still half asleep. I saw his hand in his pocket, slowly turning the folded knife over, the bulk of it visible through the thin fabric. I knew exactly what he intended, and that there was absolutely nothing I could do to stop it.

  After just a few seconds, I saw her hair shake back and forth. She was moving her head. A dry noise came softly through the bolt of knotted fabric that held her jaws wide apart.

  Standing up straight, Rafe crossed his arms over his chest. Slowly he raised one hand to knuckle thoughtfully against his chin, then seemed to make a decision. With an elegant flick, he pulled the cloth from her eyes.

  His fingers opened the gate on the IV then paused. He peered curiously at her, and then notched the gate open a little bit more. In moments I saw her eyelids fluttering prettily against her cheeks. Her lashes were downy and dark and I watched her open and close her eyes several times, the bright blue swimming up into her head as she tried in vain to command herself to focus.

  "That's it, now," Rafe whispered. “You can do it, Rachel.”

  I shook my head. It was all wrong. I knew what he wanted to do to her and it seemed so real, too real. I had just been living in her house. I had just been wearing her clothes. This couldn't be happening.