Captive

by R. J. Lewis

  Nixon didn’t laugh in that cocky way I expected. He just watched me carefully, assessing my words. I’d never been a good liar, but I was starting to find ways to bury the truths by believing in the lies. It seemed to work because I’d gotten away with quite a bit recently.

  He leaned back in his chair, looking comfortable as ever. There was an imperious expression on his face. He genuinely was unperturbed about Flynn, or about me staring at him. He was fucking with my head. In Nixon’s eyes, he was godly. He couldn’t fathom a woman might not want him. He wouldn’t allow himself to think a lesser looking man like Flynn would capture my special attention.

  And, in some ways, he was right. Flynn was nice on the eyes, but he barely held a flame next to Nixon.

  Still.

  There was something self-assured about Flynn too. He didn’t have Nixon’s mass, or his muscle, or his thick black hair and wicked gaze, but he held himself well. He was poised and relaxed, and that too was alluring.

  And there I was, staring at him again.

  Goddammit.

  I redirected my gaze to my lap and admonished myself for not keeping my walls up. Just as I thought that, I looked back at Nixon, studying his face. I felt the pulse between my legs quicken. I felt heady with desire as my eyes trailed along his hard jaw and soft lips.

  My heart was too hardened to feel any ounce of emotion for the guy, but my body…Jesus, my body betrayed me time and time again. The way it reacted to Nixon was akin to a dangerous drug.

  It was one of the things that concerned me about our dynamic.

  If I fled, how would my body endure the emptiness he filled?

  Or had he just become a way of life for me now? Did I need to break free from him to know just how much control he had over my body?

  Maybe it would be easy.

  Maybe I would be okay.

  The waitress returned in record time. She served a seafood platter in the middle of the table. Then she placed a plate of fish and chips in front of me and a plate of steak and greens in front of Nixon. Standing straight, she clasped her hands and waited for him to dismiss her.

  She stared at him with red cheeks and wanting eyes, and he hadn’t looked up at her once. These women, they gnawed at the walls for his attention. Unphased by his deplorable nature, his reputation turned them on. They wanted the bad man, because it made their pulses run quicker, their blood run warmer.

  I was certain once I would have felt the same way, or at the very least curious. I might have stayed up in the night and felt that pulse between my legs, wondering what it would be like to have someone like him dominating me.

  But that was fantasy. You could want the most shameful things in your fantasy, and it was harmless. You knew better than to want it in real life.

  At least you could escape from a fantasy.

  Where was my escape from this?

  Pulling out the steak knife and fork from the napkin sleeve, he began cutting up his steak. I rolled my eyes and gently kicked Nixon’s leg from under the table.

  He paused and stared at me. I tilted my head in the waitress’s direction, and he followed. “That’ll be everything,” he stated, dismissively.

  “Okay, well, I’ll be around,” she responded, smiling brightly. She inched away from the table, her front still facing him. I watched her from the corner of my eye. When Nixon took a bite of his steak, he paused and turned. She jumped at his stare and took off, disappearing around the corner.

  “It seems like most people don’t know whether to be enamoured by you, or scared of you,” I murmured, taking a bite of my cod.

  He smirked. “And what are you, Vix? Are you enamoured, or are you scared?”

  “I’m neither,” I replied flatly. “You do nothing to me, Nixon.”

  “Is that another challenge?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Believe me, the last thing I want is to challenge –”

  Suddenly, Nixon flipped the table over. I watched in shock as it came crashing to the ground. My mouth parted just as his body slammed into me. The entire chair fell back, his body shielding me. A loud shot sounded, so close my ears were ringing. As I crashed to the ground – Nixon over me – pain rocketed up my spine. I heard him shouting, but I didn’t hear what he was saying through the ringing. He sounded angry; his entire body shook over me. Then he covered my body with his, covering every inch of me as another shot sounded out from nearby. Screams erupted, followed by chaos.

  “Clear it out!” Nixon screamed. “Out! Everyone the fuck out!”

  He held me tight while I heard running amongst frightened voices. It took merely minutes of mayhem before the silence crept in. My heart was beating hard as I tried to absorb just what in the fuck happened. Fear swarmed my insides, seizing me in place.

  My brain struggled to catch up. Struggled to piece together what happened. One second, I’d been saying something, and the next…

  “N-Nixon?” I whispered, trembling.

  He’d buried my face into his chest, holding my head in the palm of his hand. His grip around my hair loosened when he heard me. He pulled away, looking down at me with such concern, his hair falling over parts of his forehead in disarray. “Are you hurt, baby?” he asked gravely. At once, he pulled away, looking over my body frantically.

  I remained still, too in shock to move. “Just from the fall.”

  At once, his face contorted from concern to dark rage. “Shit,” he cursed, angry. “Fuck!”

  I jolted from his sudden curses, and he immediately stopped, appearing remorseful.

  “It’s okay,” he whispered. “You’re okay, I promise.”

  He stood up, forcing me up with him. I was stiff and shaking. He ran his hands up and down my bare arms, wiping away the goosebumps. He caught the look in my eye as he did it, aware that it took us back to a familiar time. To a moment that was equally traumatic. I saw the change in his eyes. It was like he didn’t want to confront it, so he cradled my front to his chest and turned us around. His arm was tightly wrapped around my body when he began to walk, like he was still shielding me from danger. Without moving my head, I looked around the room. It was empty for the most part, except for Tyrone and Doll and…Flynn who was panting heavily feet from where we were. I looked him over, wondering why he looked so winded and…

  I gasped at the body at his feet and the pool of blood by what used to be a head.

  Oh, my God.

  In horror, I spotted a gun in Flynn’s shaky hand and tried to make sense of what happened.

  He had killed the man who shot at us.

  “Thank you,” Nixon said solemnly. I stilled at the tone of his voice. I’d never heard him so grateful the entire time I’d known him. I looked up at him, at the pale colour of his face.

  “Of course,” Flynn replied, eerily calm.

  “What in the fuck just happened?” Doll shrieked. “How the fuck did a guy manage a gun in here, Nixon?”

  Nixon gritted his teeth. “I’ll kill the idiot that let him through.”

  “Was he aiming the gun at you?”

  “No.” He held me tighter. “At Vixen.”

  Doll turned her sights on me, looking concerned. “Are you alright, Vix?”

  It was hard to nod through my shakes, but I managed it. My teeth chattered together. If it weren’t for Nixon holding me upright, I’d have collapsed to the ground in a heap.

  “Can we ID the fucker?” Nixon asked, approaching the body. I buried my face into his chest, not wanting to look at the gruesome sight.

  “Hard to know,” Flynn muttered. “His head’s blown off. His face is covered in blood and brains.”

  “Check his pockets.”

  I heard some movement. “His pockets are empty.”

  “I’ll have to check surveillance, see where he came from.”

  “You got cameras down here?”

  Nixon didn’t answer. He wouldn’t tell someone he hardly knew about something that private. I had a feeling he didn’t keep record of anyone coming and going to the b
asement. What was the point of a private room if it weren’t so private?

  “We need to check it now,” Tyrone said from nearby. “What if this fuck didn’t come alone?”

  Nixon’s chest moved faster. His heart was beating wildly in my ear. He walked us back and tried pushing me away from his body. I felt a chair on the backs of my legs, and my insides seized in fear. He was trying to sit me down? I shook my head wildly and gripped his shirt tightly.

  “No,” I cried. “Nixon, no!”

  I couldn’t stand the thought of his body leaving mine. I needed him to act as my shield. I felt safe in his arms, my face hidden from view. I didn’t want anyone to see how vulnerable I looked.

  “Alright,” he whispered down at me. “I won’t let you go.”

  Instead, he sat down on the chair and cradled me in his lap. I kept my face buried in him, inhaling his scent.

  “Doll,” he said, “I need you to look the body over and tell me what you see.”

  “I heard your men have left their stations,” Tyrone said on a frown. “All of them are scouring the island, looking for possible threats. No one’s behind to monitor the hotel.”

  “Then I’ll need you in the surveillance room.”

  “On it,” he said, his footsteps scurrying out.

  “What do we do about the body?” Flynn asked suddenly.

  “The body’s not the issue,” Nixon replied all business-like. “It’s the intent. I can’t figure out why a man wanted to hurt my woman if he’s dead. That’s where Doll comes in.”

  It was silent for a few minutes. I heard the heels of Doll moving about, most likely inspecting the body. “Shit clothes, Nixon, but well lived in. He looks like a homeless guy. Flynn, open his mouth for me.”

  “I’m not opening his mouth,” Flynn retorted. “You’ve got two hands.”

  “Listen here, you noob cunt –”

  “Doll,” Nixon cut in sharply, “just do it.”

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” She huffed. I heard her shudder and curse under her breath. “Okay, his mouth is fucked right up. I’ve seen better teeth on a peasant. He was definitely into some heavy drugs.”

  “Maybe he’s a transient,” Flynn remarked, eyeing Nixon closely.

  Nixon hummed in disagreement. “No, we make sure we don’t get the homeless on the island.”

  “There’s a homeless population taking refuge in shoddy boats. He might have come in on one.”

  “It’s too expensive here for them,” Nixon explained. “They’re usually circling Salt Springs or along the coast of Nanaimo. We’re too inconvenient.”

  “How do you mean inconvenient?”

  “I don’t allow any drugs to come in. The island’s clean.”

  “Really?” Flynn sounded surprised by that.

  “The island’s upmarket for a reason,” Nixon said. “People feel safe here.”

  “Good for business.”

  “No, good for life. There are families here, and all along the mainland it’s riddled with crime waves and drug abuse. Kids stand no chance growing up in that.”

  Flynn was quiet for a few moments before murmuring, “I get it.”

  I did, too.

  Until that very moment, I didn’t think Nixon gave a fuck about it.

  “So, what the hell then?” Doll questioned. “How does a bum access this room with a gun, and why is he shooting at Vixen?”

  “I don’t know yet.” Nixon’s fury was palpable. “But I’m going to find out.”

  I knew Nixon would.

  He would leave no stone unturned.

  “No one’s hurting my baby,” he murmured down at me, pressing a soft kiss in my hair. “Not without dying for it.”

  As Doll began to question just what happened, I heard Flynn tell the tale. He’d seen the grotty man approach our table with a hand in his pocket. Something about him screamed all wrong, so Flynn had made his way over, his gut telling him something was off.

  Luckily – for me – Flynn was close enough to tackle him down the second he withdrew the gun. It happened so fast, he said. He pointed it at me right as Nixon noticed. Nixon lunged for me, shielding me as Flynn tackled the man down and the gun fired at the ceiling. He overpowered him, turning the gun to the man’s head in the process. The man ended up shooting himself by accident.

  I couldn’t stop shaking.

  I peeked from Nixon’s chest, glancing quickly in the direction of Flynn’s voice.

  He’d saved me.

  Both had reacted.

  Flynn caught me looking at him. His expression softened, and I turned away quickly before I felt any warmth for the man.

  What would have happened had he not been there? Would Nixon have been shot protecting me?

  I closed my eyes tight and tried to remember Nixon as he lunged to me.

  I remembered the horror on his face…and his desperate fear of losing me.

  11.

  Nixon…

  She’d fallen asleep amid their talking. It’d been close to an hour after the shooting. She’d shaken so hard in Nixon’s arms, her adrenaline firing throughout her little body. She always found a way to sleep through intense emotion. It was her body’s way of protecting itself. He’d seen it back when he took her, had seen it every time he was close to cracking into her heart – Vixen simply couldn’t process her feelings. Shutting down was her only defence.

  They went over the body closely. The man looked to be in his mid-forties and was fucked up from a lifetime of hunger and drugs. Nixon kept his distance as Doll continued to inspect. He’d even called Hobbs down for a second opinion.

  Both Doll and Hobbs had extensive history in law and order, though you’d never know it. They had a good eye for piecing shit together. Better than Nixon could.

  When Hobbs learned there was a man firing at Nixon’s woman, his pissy face turned into that of shock. He adored Vixen, had oftentimes cursed Nixon off for stealing her from the world.

  “The world didn’t care for her, Hobbs,” Nixon had said once.

  “Who are you to decide that, Nixon?” Hobbs responded, astonished by Nixon’s lack of remorse over his actions. “You tore her out of the pages of a life she knew. Her storybook was cut short because of your selfishness.”

  Nixon coolly responded, “Her storybook would have been cut short with her dead in a shallow grave on that mountain.”

  That shut Hobbs up.

  But, yeah, sure, Nixon accepted playing the part of villain. He had never deluded himself into thinking he’d done right when he yanked the girl out of her world and placed her firmly in the centre of his. It was selfish. It was wrong. And he felt absolutely no remorse doing it. He never would, either. Nixon wasn’t that kind of guy. There would never be that glorious moment of reform.

  This wasn’t that kind of story.

  A tiger never changed its stripes, or so the saying went. Nixon would sooner repent for all the crimes he’d committed before ever repenting taking Vixen in the ruthless manner in which he did.

  Carpe Diem, he’d learned once.

  And he’d Carpe Diem’d the shit out of it the day he decided she was his. And what a fucked up day that was – he’d never spilled so much blood.

  “He’s a transient,” Hobbs said after looking over the body. “I’ve seen this countless times.”

  “Flynn said there might be a boat,” Nixon replied, thoughtfully.

  “What about the ferry I came in on?”

  “I’d have heard about him coming through on a ferry or seaplane.”

  “Then it would have to be a boat.”

  Thing was, there was no dingy looking boat in the waters around the island. Nixon would have known about it. His men would have sorted that out promptly.

  “What was the motive?” Doll asked Hobbs, looking at him like he was the sun in her fucking sky.

  Hobbs frowned, looking back at her. “Isn’t it obvious?”

  “Drugs,” Flynn whispered to himself, his arms crossed.

  “He would ha
ve been sent to do this.”

  “What the fuck did he think was going to happen, though?” Doll ranted. “You’re standing there, aiming a gun at someone’s head, and you shoot. You don’t just walk away from that when all is said and done.”

  Hobbs shook his head at Doll. “Haven’t you seen it before, Doll? These guys, they’re desperate, they’re hungry for their next hit, and they’re not themselves anymore. The drug’s eaten them whole. They are slaves to that hit, and they don’t reason the same. They’re victims.”

  “Yeah? Well, no one forced them to take that first hit.”

  “Don’t be black and white,” he scolded. “You don’t know their reasons, and it doesn’t matter right now. This guy got tricked, and now he’s dead.”

  Doll looked shocked by his reaction. Hobbs was fuming for all kinds of reasons. Fuming for the homeless man, fuming for Vixen, and fuming for all the fucked-up drug abuse that wrecked his family during his upbringing.

  Nixon understood where the vehemence came from.

  But Nixon didn’t really care, either. He had tunnel vision, and in the centre of that tunnel was Vixen and the gun that had been aimed at her.

  He felt the rage coursing through his veins, igniting the evil nature that lurked not far into his soul. And when Hobbs looked at him, he saw it in Nixon, and it frightened him.

  “Steady,” Hobbs whispered to him. “Not here. Not now.”

  After all was said and done, Nixon ordered his clean-up crew to remove the body and dispose of it. Doll had decided to join Tyrone in the surveillance room, and Flynn remained unmoving, like he was unsure of what his role was in this mess.

  Nixon noticed the lost look in Flynn’s face. Jesus, the vulnerability was startling.

  He looked like such a fucking kid.

  “Get loaded at the bar and unwind,” Nixon told him. “Whatever you have is on the house.”

  It was the very least he could do, and he knew it wasn’t enough. Flynn had saved Nixon’s girl and Nixon owed him big. For starters, Flynn was promptly removed off his shit list.

  Holding her close to his arms, he could bury his nose into her hair, he took Vixen up to their apartment. He settled her into their bed and removed her heels from her feet. He kissed one of her ankles before covering her body with a thin bed sheet.