Captive

by R. J. Lewis

  Yes, yes, that was what he would do.

  He’d tracked her back down, forcing the information out of Hobbs who he’d foolishly made promise never to disclose.

  “You told me to not to let you know,” Hobbs had yelled. “You said you’d let her go and that was the end of it.”

  “I want to see her,” Nixon had simply said. “I need to.”

  “You don’t need to.”

  “Why won’t you just tell me where she is?” Nixon suddenly paused, answering his own question when he realized. “You’re afraid of what I’ll see, aren’t you?”

  Hobbs had the worst poker face. He frowned. “Nixon…she’s got her own life now.”

  “I can read between the lines. She’s fucking someone.”

  When Hobbs didn’t respond straightaway, Nixon cracked. It was only a little bit. Little bit meaning he trashed Hobbs’ office, and Hobbs let it happen. He stared at Nixon pitifully.

  “You know where she is,” he then said, gravely. “You can easily track her down, Nixon. We took her straight back where you caught her. You’re coming to me because you want me to stop you. Well, I can’t. Stopping you is like telling a tornado to kindly fuck back off into the sky.”

  Nixon paced and paced, avoiding Hobbs’ eye. “Remind me she doesn’t want me.”

  “That’s not true, though. She loved you.”

  “Remind me that she doesn’t fit in our world.”

  “She shined in it.”

  “Hobbs –”

  “You gave her back her freedom. How about you give her the opportunity to come back to you.”

  Nixon laughed through his despair. “She would never.”

  “No?”

  “No.”

  “You think if she saw you across the street, she’d walk on by.”

  “She would.”

  Hobbs’ face fell. “Then maybe the real issue here is you and your incessant self-loathing.”

  “Don’t tempt me with hope,” Nixon retorted. “Don’t act like she’d come searching for me.”

  “Fine, then I won’t. Don’t go to her, Nixon, because you’re too weak for her.”

  “You think I’m weak for a girl,” he snarled.

  Hobbs smiled, provoking him. “You are.”

  Nixon saw straight through the fucker. Knew he was provoking him because he missed Vixen too. He wanted her back just as much.

  When Nixon ultimately tracked her down, his sole purpose was to prove to himself, and to Hobbs, that he could walk on by.

  He’d waited outside her ugly as fuck apartment building, and when he saw her, with a camera bag, in a pair of jean shorts and badly fitted top, his suffering suddenly made sense.

  It made sense why he’d spent this entire time bleeding internally.

  It made sense why his heart stopped in its tracks and then beat riotously. Why every inch of him felt seized with a visceral impulse to recapture her.

  Watching her, being so close – so far too – was hell and he was burning.

  This fucking girl spent her afternoon completely clueless of his presence. What a sight it was. To see her freely walk the streets, in her own element, snapping photos with this dreamy look in her eye.

  It was then he realized he’d stifled her.

  She was right to want to leave.

  Flynn had been correct.

  She had been a flower that Nixon had let wilt.

  Out here, under the promising sky, she bloomed.

  “How’s your heart?” Hobbs had later asked him. “Is there anything left of it? Did you walk on by like you said you would?”

  Nixon felt a tear escape his eye. “I wish she’d never come into my life. I wish I’d never taken that job. I wish…I wish for hell if it meant this pain would end.”

  Even dying on that beach, he knew she’d come into his life destined to leave it. Destined to make him feel an emptiness that he’d suffer in silence for, for the rest of his days.

  Sometimes…

  Sometimes he believed he might see her one day and feel nothing for her. It was an exciting thought to have. To no longer be shackled to another person. To no longer feel that deep pining, soul sucking need to belong to them.

  Alas, that was not what fate intended.

  The want had never lessened.

  Quite the contrary, it grew in secret, multiplying like the strand of a virus.

  He’d never tried to let her go. He’d just tried to distract himself from chasing after her, from taking her by the hair and dragging her into his pit so she’d never escape from him again.

  After all this time, he still felt she belonged to him.

  It unnerved him to feel so vulnerable, even after all the evil he was capable of.

  It wasn’t the bullet that destroyed him, nor was it watching his island burn, taking with it his money and hopes of the future.

  It was a girl.

  A girl had obliterated him, flayed his skin, incinerated his veins and all that he was made of, reducing him to blood and bone.

  He was a shadow of himself without her.

  What a mess.

  What a sad way to live.

  Hungering for the flesh of a being that may not want you.

  Could there be a greater punishment than that?

  Love was the greatest shackle of all.

  Victoria…

  I heard him come into the room.

  It was completely dark. I was trying to sleep in his bed, wrapped in his covers. I’d raided his closet – his taste in clothing hadn’t changed. I’d found a plain tee, it was so big on me, it ended at my thighs. It was a stark reminder how big this guy was. How easily you could overlook it when you stared at his face longer than his body.

  Unmoving, I opened my eyes, listening carefully as he walked around the bed. I felt him stopping behind me. Felt his eyes on me. I heard his steady breaths while I’d held my own, waiting.

  Waiting for what?

  He moved away. I saw his figure move in the dark in the direction of the window. He peered out, his body taut, his profile visible by the glow of the city lights. I moved inaudibly, twisting my body just enough that I could watch him look out.

  “How’s freedom these days, Victoria?” he suddenly asked, his voice cutting through the stillness.

  I winced slightly. Of course, he knew I was awake.

  He sounded calm, so I wasn’t expecting another throwdown.

  Opening my mouth, I softly said, “It’s freeing.”

  He chuckled dryly. “Cute.” Glancing briefly at me, he added, “Ambiguous responses usually indicate a level of unhappiness.”

  “What study is this?”

  “Only my own,” he replied simply.

  “Who were you studying to make that connection?”

  “Just you.”

  I swallowed hard, pretending to feel unaffected as I plainly replied, “Well, you’re wrong. I’m quite happy.”

  “Is it your job that’s making you happy?” he wondered, his voice dripping in condescension. “Do you feel good when you help people move from one address to the next?”

  “A job’s a job.”

  “Because it takes care of you.”

  “Exactly.”

  He glanced at me quickly. My heart jumped. “You live in a shithole. Your fridge is always empty. Your microwave is going to blow up one of these days and everything you possess is going to burn to ash.”

  I narrowed my eyes at him. “What’s your point, Nixon?”

  “You say you’re happy, I’m trying to find the cause of it.”

  As he turned to look at me, I flopped to my back and stared up at the blank ceiling. “I’m happy because I’m in charge of my life. I have friends. I have a boyfriend.”

  “Your friend, the nurse?”

  “Yes.”

  “She’s conceited and annoying, and her lawyer fiancé’s just another shmuck that gets his ass bought out every time he’s taking on a client the mob wants silenced.”

  My heart slowed. “Hav
e you been watching me, Nixon?”

  “Yes.”

  “So, you’ve got an opinion about my boyfriend, too.”

  “Is that a question?”

  “No, I already know you have an opinion about him. I stated it so you can tell me what it is. That’s how conversations progress, Nixon, I would have hoped you’d have gotten better with this over time.”

  His voice dropped lower. “Fuck, your mouth, Victoria, it’s not changed either.”

  Just hearing him talk like that, so wantonly, produced a heavy pulse between my legs. “Tell me what you think of Brian.”

  “I have no issues with your boyfriend,” he said. “I think he’s a really nice guy.”

  I turned to look at him. I noticed the way his lips curved up. Fucker was smiling.

  I frowned. “You’re a liar.”

  “No, I’m being honest. The guy has the cleanest record I’ve seen yet. He is Mr Suburbia in the flesh. I can see you with him just fine. He’ll provide well, will be passionate about his badge number, will be unflinching in the face of violence because he frequents the gym, has muscles, so he must be tough.

  “To ensure you don’t ride the bus late at night, he’ll upgrade his car to a Honda with the extra safety features. He probably knows how to even change a tire when you break down on the side of the road after coming back from a barbecue one summer night. He’ll wear a uniform and maybe one night he’ll even cuff you. But that’ll be years of comfort in the sack. Years of vanilla sex with oral for really special occasions. I think you two will get along just fine.”

  I felt heat in my face. I couldn’t pinpoint my exact emotion. I was pissed, but at what exactly? At how blasé he sounded? At how right he was and how much it made me feel dead to think of living that sort of life?

  What the fuck was wrong with me?

  What the fuck was it about Nixon that drove me to extreme emotion?

  I was shaking, clenching my jaw tight, trying not to get worked up. He’d answered and that should have been it, but I detected the amusement in his voice. It was so subtle, anyone else would have missed it.

  “Well, then,” he continued when I didn’t respond, “I’m a little confused, Victoria.”

  “About what?” I asked, lifelessly.

  “If you’re so happy, why did you seek me out?”

  I let out a breath, feeling shocked. “I’ve been under the impression you were dead, Nixon.”

  “Yeah, but why seek me out? You could have continued to live your life and I wouldn’t have bothered you.”

  Ouch.

  Like a trigger, my eyes felt raw. “Maybe it was to hear you say that.”

  “You want closure.”

  “Yeah.”

  “You want to know that I’m finished with you.”

  “You made it clear in the bathroom that you were.”

  “Does that bother you?”

  “No,” I lied, heatedly. “I’m relieved. I don’t have to worry that you’ll come out of the shadows and drag me back into your fucked-up world.”

  “No part of you desires that?”

  “No.”

  “Well, let me offer you closure,” he said coldly, “I don’t want you, Victoria. I will not be dragging you into my fucked-up world. You’re free to leave whenever you want.”

  I felt sick to my stomach hearing those words. God, I hated him. “I’d have left already, but I was told I had to stay,” I retorted.

  “We took care of business,” he replied, steadfastly. “You may leave.”

  I slid out of bed straightaway, feeling so fucking triggered, my body was quaking. I stormed into his closet and grabbed one of his sweatpants from a shelf I’d seen earlier. Then I stomped to the bathroom and slammed the door behind me, locking it.

  I was panting hard.

  I was unwanted.

  Rejected.

  He was throwing me out like he seriously didn’t give one ounce of fuck.

  I bent over to climb into his pants when I looked up at the mirror. My eyes were raw with unshed tears. My cheeks were red, my lips raw from nervously biting the fuck out of them all night waiting for his return.

  I glared at myself, wanting to scream.

  Why did I love this asshole? Why did the thought of leaving this stupid fucking hotel feel so final?

  He hadn’t come to the city for me. How foolish of me for hoping.

  He’d explicitly told me the amount of tight pussies he’d fucked in my absence, and that should have made me gag with indifference for the asshole.

  This was so fucked, and I was almost crying. My legs shuddered as I bent over the sink and splashed water over my face, trying to talk sense into myself. I was so flushed, the cold water didn’t do a damn thing to help ease me.

  I turned the water off and grabbed the handtowel. I pat my face dry, unable to tear my eyes off my reflection. I muttered curses, reprimanding myself for my fucking stupidity. I wanted to punch a hole in my chest and rip my heart out of it and then squash that muscle in the palm of my hand to stop this fucking pain.

  I threw my hair back and dried the water trailing lines down my neck, telling myself not to cry.

  Then I paused, my gaze zoned in on the giant red mark on my neck. I leaned over the counter and inspected my skin. My breaths thinned. In my daze to come here, I’d missed it.

  Kim and Doll were right.

  This was a giant hickey, and it looked bruised.

  My mind wandered to Brian when he’d kissed me on the couch. He’d kissed my neck, but I was certain he hadn’t sucked it. I would have known – that would have been too kinky for a guy like Brian – and he’d never left marks behind before. Our kisses had been so fucking lame. I winced having to admit that to myself, but it was true. His mouth had done nothing for me.

  So, how the fuck…

  I paused again and glanced at the door.

  Realization hit me.

  I felt so stupid.

  He’d known the layout of my apartment.

  Knew how fucking sad my microwave was.

  Knew Brian hadn’t played our game.

  I had completely overlooked it in the midst of my emotion.

  Of course.

  Mother.

  Fucker.

  The blood in my veins quickened. I yanked the door open and thundered out of the bathroom, my gaze zoned in on Nixon who was still standing by the window. He turned his head in my direction, his curt eyes lapping at me like I was an insect on the wall.

  “You sick fuck,” I shrieked, coming to a stop in front of him, “You broke into my apartment. You slid into my bed, and you touched me!”

  “Impossible,” he replied, smirking devilishly at me. “I did no such thing.”

  “Liar!”

  “Perhaps you were dreaming.”

  “I was not dreaming it,” I retorted. “You fingered me, you sucked at my neck, you told me no one would ever fill the space you did.”

  He appeared amused now. “That’s a vivid dream, Victoria.”

  “It wasn’t a dream.”

  “Did you like it?”

  I gritted my teeth. “No,” I lied. “I hated it. I asked you to stop.”

  “Really?” he replied, raising his brows. “No part of you begged for me to keep going?”

  “No.”

  He took a step toward me. I remained rooted to the floor, refusing to budge as he towered over me. “You didn’t complain that your boyfriend didn’t like our game?”

  My cheeks burned with embarrassment. “I didn’t say that.”

  “You did.”

  “You misunderstood.”

  “So, he fucked you anyway, is that what you’re telling me?”

  “It is.”

  His expression cooled. He dismissed me by turning back to the window. “You need to leave,” he warned me, edgily. “Before I do something very stupid.”

  “Like what?” I goaded, standing my ground. “What are you going to do that’s stupid?”

  “Don’t poke the bea
r, Victoria.”

  “I want to know what you’re going to do.”

  His composure remained intact. “Something very bad.”

  “Like what?”

  “Victoria, go.”

  “No.”

  His shoulders tensed as a dark look flashed in his eyes. “I’m not feeling in control of my faculties, Victoria, I will fucking hurt you.”

  Adrenaline coursed through me. I felt a jolt of excitement. “Why?”

  “Why do you think?” he hissed.

  “Because of Brian?” I asked, smiling coldly. “Are you jealous, Nixon? Does it piss you off that he touched me –”

  My breath ripped out of me as he grabbed me and shoved my back against the window. His hand fisted my hair, forcing my gaze up to meet his. He was so big, his entire body swallowed me whole as he leaned in, his blue gaze wicked, his expression tight with fury.

  “I’m going to kill him for watching you writhe beneath him,” he told me through clenched teeth. “I’m going to enjoy it, too, Vixen. I’m going to watch the life bleed out of his eyes, and I’m going to smile cruelly at the beta man for thinking it was ever okay to touch what’s mine.”

  His grip in my hair was tight, but not overly so. I feigned pain, hissing, “You’re hurting me, Nixon.”

  His expression lit up as he barked out a dry laugh. “You are unbelievable.”

  Tears pricked my eyes. “I think you should let me go.”

  “Why?” he growled. “I warned you not to goad me.”

  “I regret it.”

  “Liar,” he roared in my face. “You’re such a fucking liar.”

  “I’m really not.”

  His other hand slid under my shirt and cupped at my sex suddenly, making me gasp. He didn’t rub me. He just held it there, palming it, smirking viciously at me. “What is it with you?” he growled, eyes never straying from mine. “What do you like about this, Vixen? Is it that I just take you for my own satisfaction that gets you so wet? Is it that even when I fuck you and you beg for me to stop, that I still pleasure you? Do you like when I prove you wrong? Is that the kink? I never could understand.”

  Tears spilled from my eyes as I choked out, “It’s all of it. It’s being reduced to a thing, living under the illusion I have no control over how you make my body feel, but also knowing I have full control. That I can trust someone to push my limits and stop when I tell him to, no matter how on the cusp of pleasure he is.”