Capture Me

by Natalia Banks

  Whatever I do, I need to quiet the racket the dude is making.

  But as soon as I see the guy, I hate him even more. His bright yellow pants are so tight I bet the head of his penis – if he in fact has a penis – must look like it’s screaming. He’s so skinny I swear he would blow away if a strong enough wind kicked up.

  And what the fuck is with those shoes? They’re an odd shade of maroon with what looks like handwritten verses, like lyrics or poetry.

  I bet it’s poetry.

  Bloody hell, I bet it’s his poetry.

  He’s wearing two shirts. One is a button down blue and white plaid. And it clashes with his pants. So much so that I kind of want to hit him just for subjecting my eyes to it.

  The shirt under that hugs his skinny frame and is hunter green with a faded logo – likely a factory faded to look old logo – with an ambiguous name that could be a coffee shop, or a hair place, or maybe a dive bar. Some place that I’m sure he discovered first. You know, he made it a cool hang out, so now it’s popular, but only because he shone his light on it and made everyone aware of how awesome it is.

  To complete the I’m a total douchebag look, he’s got an oversized beanie in a dirty shade of grey on his head. It probably keeps his carefully styled and windswept blond locks in check. With his eyes mostly covered, I wonder how he sees. He reminds me of one of those shaggy white dogs.

  I hate everything about him.

  He catches sight of me and his attitude changes. Suddenly, the petulant little boy becomes a tough man. How cute. He thinks he’s all that.

  Does he not know that beard looks like he shaved his pubic hair and glued it to his face in odd, uneven patches?

  “I’m just looking for my girl. She’s here.” He flips his head even though his hair doesn’t move at all. Not even a millimeter. That shits got to be glued down. Holy fuck.

  “The girl that was here left,” I say and he tries to look cool.

  He nods at me. “Thanks, man. You sure she’s gone gone, though? Maybe she went out to lunch.”

  Gone gone? You can’t just add the same word twice to make it mean something else. What the fuck planet is this asshole from? Isn’t that something teenaged girls say to each other? Oh, I like him, but I don’t like him like him.

  “Pretty sure,” I say, unwilling to engage with this idiot. Talking to him is killing my brain cells, I’m sure. So I walk away.

  Chapter 13

  Jane

  “He’s gone.”

  I lift my head and look at Connor. As if reading my worry, he’s quick to reassure me. “I told him you left.”

  I want to thank him, but the words feel stuck in my throat, like I’m going to choke on them unless I focus. “I’d planned to break up with him. I really did. He’s just so… impossible to talk to.” How do I explain the special brand of crazy Zac is? He’s not… abusive per se, he doesn’t hit me or anything like that, but he’s… well, he makes me uncomfortable.

  But Connor doesn’t seem to be listening.

  Next door, though the wall, I hear my phone ring. Well, I’m glad Zac left. If he heard that, he’d know for sure that I wasn’t gone like Connor said. And nothing says I’m guilty of whatever Zac is obsessing over now like the hot guy next door lying for me.

  That wouldn’t fucking look good at all.

  I look over at Connor, who’s staring me down like he knows some deep dark secret about me. Something I don’t want him to know. I open my mouth to ask him what, but there’s a knock at the front door.

  My phone rings again next door and I swallow, feeling like there’s a rock in my throat. Connor’s on his feet in a moment, his whole body blocking the door as he opens it a crack. On the other side, I hear Zac talking and my heart leaps up in my throat. He’s here. Right there. If Connor moves a bit to the side, he’ll see me.

  But something tells me Connor won’t let anything bad happen to me.

  Unless he’s the one doing the bad things.

  At that unbelievably hot realization, I feel heat skittering through my belly. Damn. Somehow, everything about Connor just wrecks me.

  “Are you sure she left?” Zac asks Connor, who shrugs.

  “I think so.” Connor’s nonchalant, but I know Zac is getting on his nerves. I see it in the set of his shoulders, the tension in his smooth voice, the way he’s leaning into the door more and more with every passing second as if working his intimidation game on Zac.

  Zac is an idiot. He’d see a guy Connor’s size and still go on about how he could take him, since all gym rats can’t actually fight. Zac trained in Tai Chi for six months, so he’s totally a master of martial arts.

  I stifle the urge to roll my eyes.

  Connor closes the door and I hear Zac go next door and start knocking again. I hear him and my heart sinks. I was right.

  “I know you’re in there, Jane. I tracked your cell phone to this location.” Zac sounds tired, like he’s sick of this game of cat and mouse he drags me through; however unwilling I might be. Like I said, he’s not abusive, he just makes me uncomfortable.

  I’ve never cheated on him – save the kisses I shared with Connor – but he’s always been certain I would. He’s got my dad worked up and sure I’ll marry him. And for some stupid reason, dad seems to like him. I don’t know how Zac got to him, but dad is even pressuring me to go ahead and follow my dream of marrying Zac.

  Which is not my dream. It’s the whole reason I’m running. I needed a break, a chance to breathe. I need to figure out how to dump Zac without my dad going ballistic. I need to figure out how to talk myself out of this corner I’ve been backed into.

  As Connor turns to face me, I see the hardness in his eyes, the anger, and I know I’m caught between the devil and the deep blue sea. Connor is absolutely the more dangerous of the two.

  What is wrong with the men in my life? They can never let me go. Dad won’t let me grow up. He refuses to let me live my life and is insistent I marry Zac even though I’ve yet to actually choose that option. Zac is against the thought of breaking up with me. And I have a feeling it all boils down to money.

  Zac wants it.

  Dad likely thinks he can manipulate the situation somehow.

  I would gladly give up all the money if it meant no one would fuck with me again.

  As I study Connor, I see his anger growing and growing and growing. I don’t know what to do. Zac isn’t the kind to give up. He’ll fucking follow me to the ends of the Earth, obviously. He’d follow me to hell if he thought he could keep me prisoner. He’d follow me to an early grave if he thought he could control me. He’d haunt my ass if it meant that he’d be able to keep tabs on me.

  I do wonder if it’s all because of my family name. Is it because I have money? Is it because he knows what he can get out of me if he keeps himself adhered to my side?

  He has to know stalking me isn’t the way to make me fall in love with him. Or does he think he’s being romantic?

  I have no idea what he thinks, but all the endless possibilities make my head spin and my stomach sick. With Connor studying me like he’s reading my thoughts, I hope I don’t look too cornered right now. I am, and there’s nothing I can do about it. But I don’t want to look like it.

  Connor looks toward the wall we shared and I see him seething. He’s on the edge of losing his temper. I have no idea what he’s going to do to Zac when he finally snaps.

  I guess I just have to hope he doesn’t kill him. Because murder is a permanent solution to a very temporary problem. I’m sure when I’m an old lady looking back on my life, Zac will be but a blip on the radar of things I’ve done.

  And that’s enough to make me smile.

  Chapter 14

  Connor

  “I know you’re in there, Jane. I tracked your cell phone to this location.”

  The words are enough to make me want to strangle him right now. Not only is this little bitch ruining my interrogation of Jane, he’s also stalking her, threatening her, and diverting her
fear from me – where it should be – to his puny, stupid ass.

  Why the actual fuck would he be tracking her phone? Is he stalking her? Even if she’s cheated on him a million times, he should just have broken up with her, not fucking gone full psycho mode and tracked her ass down.

  There’s more to this.

  And while it has no weight on what’s going down with Jane, I’m also curious how it’s all going to play out. I glance over at Jane. She’s sitting on the counter still, her legs dangling over the edge. She’s pale, her face twisted into an expression of pain. I don’t know what’s on her mind, but it’s clearly painful.

  I wonder if its him.

  Did she cheat on him? Because I have a feeling that creep is this guy’s base ability. He seems like the type that came factory set with a stalker setting that’s yet to be disabled. Even if she did, though, nothing gives him the right to treat her this way.

  Sure, what I’m doing to her is fucked up, but I’m protecting my family. I bet poetry shoes is just doing this to get laid.

  She’s studying me, her eyes begging me to help her. But I’m not a fucking savior. I’m not the hero, I’m no white knight; I don’t fucking do this shit.

  As if she can read my thoughts, her eyes lower to her lap again, as if her cute short shorts hold all the answers.

  She doesn’t understand that I’m not two halves of a man. I’m a monster. I’ll fucking snatch her from her room and lord fear over her to keep her silent, to bend her to my will. I’m not going to fucking save her from her dipshit boyfriend.

  Next door, the idiot keeps banging on the door, his very voice making my temper shorten bit by bit.

  I glance back at Jane, who’s watching me, her wide eyes nervous. She’s scared again. Good. But as I watch, a tiny smile tugs the corners of her lips and I feel like she’s giving me a silent signal to end this shit.

  Fine.

  I’ll help her end it.

  I open my room door and walk over to a very surprised looking man child and grab his collar. “You couldn’t leave well enough alone, could you?” I ask as I shove him into my room.

  He protests until he sees Jane.

  Then he’s furious. I’m holding him back by the collar as he tries to lunge forward to get to her.

  “What the fuck, Jane?” He asks, his voice rising an octave with his anger. It’s amusing that he sounds like a shrill, angry little girl when he’s mad. With one hand, I push him down into the chair Cami has sat in.

  He tries to get up, but I grab his shoulder and push him back into the chair. It's like he suddenly sees me again.

  “You’re fucking my fiancé,” he says, glaring up at me like I’m the devil. He’s half right.

  I could deny it. But I’d rather save my breath and words for more important things.

  When he realizes I’m not going to engage with him he glances back over at a frozen Jane. She’s staring at him like he’s the biggest mistake she’s ever made. I agree with her. How is this puny little shit anything to her?

  As the guy tries to get up again, I once more put him on his ass with a single hand on his shoulder. The idiot doesn’t learn, clearly. The sooner he accepts he’s not the boss here, the better.

  He again struggles against me. Holding him in one place with that single hand on his shoulder, I look him in the eyes.

  “You’re not in charge here,” I tell him slowly, clearly. As if I’m the most menacing thing he’s ever faced, he shrinks into his chair a little bit. He gives a quick nod, his eyes locked on mine like he’s offering his soul if only I don’t hurt him.

  I remove my hand from his shoulder and he stays put, as if he’s aware I won’t just push him down next time. No, next time, I’ll make sure he can’t get up again without permission.

  With a glance at Jane, I see the look in her eyes. She’s realizes that her boyfriend isn’t the one who’s frightening here. As if I needed to prove that.

  With her eyes locked on me, I see the terror in her eyes again. It’s a good feeling. I was getting sick of her puppy dog looks like I’m some nice guy who’s here to save her from her big, bad ex-boyfriend.

  I’m fucking not.

  I need this little prick to say his part, and her to say hers so I can get rid of him. Because I need some time alone with her. I need to know what she knows. I need to know if she’s a threat. And if that means making sure she fucking breaks up with this idiot and sends him on his merry way, so fucking be it.

  “You should have fucking left,” I tell the hipster shithead. He nods, his eyes filled with panic. “But since you didn’t, your girlfriend has something to tell you. Something you’re going to fucking listen to and respect.” I move closer to him and he shrinks back in the chair. He notices his reaction and tries to act tough, sprawling in the chair and crossing his arms while having the audacity to feign looking bored.

  “I won’t tell you twice,” I say, and I see a flicker of fear in his eyes.

  Chapter 15

  Jane

  Connor’s voice is ultra-sexy as she shoves a bewildered Zac into the room. “You couldn’t leave well enough alone, could you?”

  I stare at Zac, feeling like my whole world is coming to a crashing, volcanic end.

  Then Zac sees me.

  All I see is fury. Hatred, loathing, and maybe a hint of murder. Not because he loves me; he knows what he stands to lose if I walk away. Holy fuck, why do I feel like he was waiting to marry me to kill me and take my family money for himself?

  No way. That kind of shit only happens in those Dateline shows. Not in real life, not to people like me. I mean, those people are the unlucky ones. I can in no way, shape or form call my life unlucky.

  And, with Connor holding him by that stupid blue plaid shirt I hate, Zac tries to lunge at me. Connor is quick to shove him into the chair in the middle of the room. It’s kind of funny to see someone finally show Zac he’s not some big strong man’s man just because he can almost grow a big boy beard.

  “What the fuck, Jane?” he yells at me, his voice sounding like an angry little girl who’s older brother stole her favorite Barbie. I can almost imagine him turning his head to the side to scream, I’m telling mom! before stomping off. Though he’s more likely to tattle to my father.

  He tries to get up, but Connor drops an imposing hand on his shoulder and shoves him back down like he’s a sack of potatoes.

  Zac, not getting a rise out of me looks up at Connor. “You’re fucking my fiancé,” he says to an unimpressed Connor.

  Connor doesn’t even bat an eye. Instead of denying like some white knight hero stepping up to bat for me, he totally blows off the allegation and continues to glare at Zac. Which makes his claim seem like the stupidest thing he’s ever said. It’s almost an art how Connor manipulates people.

  I wonder if half my attraction to him is how he’s manipulating me?

  No way. That heat I feel at his very voice started before he ever even knew I existed. While it’s weird, perhaps, to be so deeply turned on by a voice, maybe that’s my thing. I don’t know. I’m twenty two. Maybe I’ve got a voice fetish and he’s the first guy with just the right voice that I’ve met.

  As Zac stares at me, I wonder why the hell I ever wasted my time with him. He’s such a child. This isn’t the first time he’s thrown a temper tantrum when he didn’t get what he wanted.

  As if reading my mind, Zac tries to get up again. And again, Connor’s hand pushes him down without any seeming effort. It’s amazing how Connor seems almost bored, as if this guy is such a non-threat that he’s not even really paying attention.

  Zac seems to try push back. But Connor isn’t having it.

  “You’re not in charge here,” Connor says, his low, threatening voice sending a tickle of pleasure down my spine. Those words, that voice.. oh, my god. I’m going to have to wash this damn counter.

  Zac, staring up at Connor, nods his head quickly; a frightened little flutter that makes me want to giggle.

  As I watch Connor
’s set shoulders, he looks up at me, those incredible eyes melting the core of me to a liquid, molten hot need. He’s so damn sexy, so in charge it’s both scary and sexy. But mostly sexy, I think.

  “You should have fucking left,” Connor says to Zac, who’s staring up at him, his mouth open in what looks like slack-jaw stupidity.

  “But since you didn’t,” Connor continues, every inch of him exuding power and control, “your girlfriend has something to tell you. Something you’re going to fucking listen to and respect.”

  Connor leans toward Zac a little and my boyfriend cowers back. He glances at me out of the corner of his eyes and seems to decide it’s a good idea to act tough. He stretches a leg out before him and links the fingers of both hands and drop them in front of his other bent knee. He’s trying to look relaxed, but he looks like an idiot.

  “I won’t tell you twice,” Connor says, and I try not to gulp back shock and more than a little excitement.

  “It’s over.” The words burst from me and both men look my direction. Zac is dismayed, Connor seems amused.

  Zac’s not stopping without a fight. “You won’t leave me. I’m going to be famous and you’ll forever hate yourself for leaving me.”

  Not this argument again. “Zac, I wouldn’t love you even if you were famous.” I tell him wondering how a grown man could have such a stupid view of love and life. Does he really think that all it takes is fame to make everyone love you? That’s not love.

  “No, you would have been the only one to love me before. But now you’ll forever be the girl who broke up with me and didn’t support my career.” Zac takes the path of trying to garner my pity. It has worked before, because of course I don’t want to be the bitch that doesn’t support his dreams and his career.

  It doesn’t work this time. “It’s not your career if you’ve never made money doing it,” I say, as the words I’ve been holding in for too long, escape my mouth with ease and conviction.