Captive

by R. J. Lewis

  But he wasn’t a good man.

  He wasn’t going to leave the world of crime behind. This was who he was. Did I think for a single moment that he might whisk me back to the island and everything was going to go back to the way it was? Maybe, on that island, I had seen him separate from his corruption. I was detached from it, had only been privy to the information in the meeting room among the crew to know they were up to no good, but he had done the jobs off the island, so it’d never felt all that real.

  “You’re unhappy.”

  His voice broke through my thoughts. I twisted my head and found him in the doorway, hands in his pockets, watching me.

  “How long have you been there?” I asked.

  “Long enough to see the wheels spinning in your head,” he answered. “You look frightened.”

  I turned back to the window and let out a sigh. “I didn’t expect any of this. I thought…I thought maybe you’d come here to be with me.” I shook my head, feeling stupid. “Instead, you’re overthrowing a gang that controls a drug supply.”

  “You’re realizing I’m not all that good,” he replied, softly. “That I’m going to be part of the problem, and not part of the solution. It’s fucking with your morality.”

  I didn’t answer because he wasn’t necessarily wrong.

  “I can throw a charity ball every few months if that’ll make you feel better,” he then said, half-amused, half-serious.

  I rolled my eyes. “You’re funny, Nixon.”

  “I care what you think.”

  “How about caring about everyone else?” I retorted. “How about…helping the streets instead of fucking them up?”

  Nixon moved across the room, stopping to face me, his back to the wall beside the window. Hands still in his pockets, hair neatly combed back, black sweater, dark jeans, this man had such a simple look, but he seemed to own it in such a way it magnetized the world to him. I hated that when his blue eyes met mine, I felt my pulse weaken, felt my body tighten, felt a million little rockets firing in my body, desperate to be touched by him.

  He was such a weakness.

  He was already fucking with my head, and he’d re-entered my life for barely a minute.

  “The streets will never be clean, Vixen,” he told me, trying to help me understand. “No matter what, it’ll be rampant with crime, with desperate people after their own selfish needs. That’s the human condition, baby, we put ourselves first, even if our needs are volatile and harmful. This isn’t the selfless sort of world you keep trying to believe it is.”

  “You fought to keep the island clean,” I replied, stubbornly. “And it was. You did good on that island, Nixon.”

  “If it were up to me, if it were possible, I’d make the world that way, but micromanaging an island is a completely different beast to micromanaging a city. Out here, it is systematic chaos. Out here, it is mayhem and corruption and the only way to be on top is to become entrenched in the very nature of the beast, until you can’t tell yourself apart from it.”

  He came to me then and knelt in front of me, so I had no choice but to look at him as he continued. “I’m not handing out drugs like it’s candy,” he said firmly. “I don’t care how the money is made. I’m just the method to transferring dirty cash into clean cash.”

  “And what about Flynn?” I argued, brokenly. “Why is he part of this at all? He was a broken guy, Nixon. He was good.”

  “You’re thinking about it all wrong. Stop thinking good and bad. You keep trying to separate this shit into two categories. You’re setting yourself up for disaster because the more you try and do that, the more the lines are going to start to blur. There is no good, and there is no bad. There’s just us, Vixen. People with their own agendas. And Flynn…he sought me out, baby. He came to me, resolute, with a purpose in mind. The guy had a shit ton of money from his brother before he’d passed. He’d recruited men to sabotage me. He’d done multiple jobs for Toby alone. Whatever his reasons are for progressing to this are his own. I didn’t influence him in the slightest. I became his ally.”

  “But why become his ally?” I implored, staring at him with confusion. “I don’t get why you ever let him go. You said…you recognized his rage in yourself, but…it wasn’t like you to let him go, Nixon.”

  His face fell, his eyes grew distant. “When I saw him standing there, holding you against him, pretending he had a weapon on you, I saw the chaos in his eyes. I saw his fear, the weight of the world on his shoulders. He reminded me of you when you ran out of that cabin, falling in the snow, not running from me, but running from yourself. Flynn was at war with himself, not with me. Because Flynn, at the core of it all, still believed there was good and bad. He’d seen his brother be good to him – his brother’s goodness was all he knew at the time – and to hear him capable of evil, destroyed him, made him lash out because he couldn’t come to grips that you could be two of those things at the same time.”

  I took a moment to think that over. I recalled the pain in Flynn’s eyes when I told him what became of Roz. I felt wretched for him.

  And wretched for Nixon because…

  My throat swelled with emotion. I blinked tears at Nixon, whispering, “It reminded you of Leona, too.” Nixon’s face went tight. I let out a slow breath, adding, “She saw your goodness, and she saw your immorality, and she couldn’t understand which of the two outweighed the other.”

  He didn’t respond. His expression was flat, but I knew he was hiding his hurt. I knew it was important for me to also say, “I know your good outweighs it, Nixon.”

  “How do you know that?” he asked mutely.

  I smiled sadly at him. “Because you saved me. You saved me from the bad guys, you saved me from an empty life, you saved me…from myself.”

  The breath he took was heavy. I could sense his agony. Pulling away, he stood back up and wandered back to the window. With a quiet voice, he said, “You’re my greatest weakness, Victoria, and my greatest strength. You gave me purpose in my darkest hour. I knew the light you could bring into my life, had seen it on that mountain, and I selfishly stole that light, stole you, because I wanted to have you to myself. I know what I did was wrong. I know I suffocated you. I was honest when I said I would never steal you again.” He turned his head in my direction, staring at me with a look of reverence. “I want you to bloom. I want your light to shine. I also still want you.”

  Tears fell from my eyes. “Nixon –”

  “I did come here for you,” he cut in. “Even when I saw you with another man, I still felt like you belonged to me. I broke into your apartment, I slept next to you for many nights, holding you in my arms, whispering in your ear. I followed you on the streets. I watched you on the bus. I lured you to the restaurant just so I could watch you eat. It was punishing. It was worse than being away from you and not seeing you do any of these things. The last thing I expected…was for you to ever try and seek me out, dressed the way you were, looking so fucking beautiful in that dress, with your hair down, with the purpose of trying to impress me. I had no expectation you’d come to me, Vixen, but I still had hope you might. That you would see me one day, maybe hear about me from a friend or a co-worker, and maybe…maybe believed what we shared was real.”

  “It was real,” I told him adamantly. “It was real, Nixon. All of it.”

  “Then stand with me,” he told me urgently, the plea in his eyes disarming me. “I can’t do this without you. I need your strength and your love. I’m so weak for you, Victoria, I’ve spent every minute on my knees for you. You’ve always stood over me, in control of my heart, of my spirit. I need you to need us as much as I do.” His gaze grew heavy as he went back to me and dropped to his knees, sliding his arms around me, staring into my eyes. “Be my Queen.”

  I dropped my forehead to his, studying his face as I rested my hand to his cheek. I lightly kissed him and watched as his eyes closed, as his chest expanded. You’d think I was feeding him a drug.

  Whispering, I said, “If I’m y
our Queen, then you’re my King. And that means, we sort of need our own little castle.”

  “Anything for you, baby,” he said.

  “I don’t want to live in a hotel.”

  “I’m already building a house for us.”

  Of course, he was. I smiled. “Is it on a mountain?”

  “At the very top.”

  “Will I have my own horse drawn carriage?”

  “Yes,” he said. “And you’ll leave in it whenever your heart desires.”

  “Keep going, Nixon,” I said, amused. “What else will we have?”

  “We’ll have each other,” he told me, opening his eyes to look at me. “I’ll make an entire floor into a library for you. You can have your own arts and crafts room. You can fill our house with your pottery shit –”

  “And Christmas lights.”

  “I don’t give a fuck if the lights are on in the summer, baby, you’ll have Christmas lights and Christmas trees –”

  “Like the one you got me?”

  He smiled. “Like the one I got you.”

  “And my own throne room.”

  “As long as I get to fuck you in our throne room.”

  “You may,” I consented, smiling devilishly at him. “But don’t you think a castle that big is too much space for just the two of us?”

  He smiled back, but his eyes were raw with elation. “We can fill it dogs and cats.”

  “Oh?”

  “And farm animals.”

  “Hmm.”

  With a tilted head, he added, “And princes and princesses.” My heart hammered as he studied my reaction, asking me then, “How do you feel about that?”

  Sucking in a breath, I felt a tear leave my eye when I answered. “I feel good, Nixon.”

  54.

  Victoria…

  I wandered my empty apartment, taking one last look around before I left for good. I didn’t expect to feel as sad as I was about leaving it, but…these rooms were filled with sadness, with endless tears spent agonizing over Nixon.

  I should have loved to leave it behind.

  I didn’t.

  In these walls, I’d learned to self-soothe, to tell myself that everything was going to be okay.

  In these walls, I’d confronted my mother’s passing, learned to tell her hello in the mornings and good-bye in the nights.

  There was no joy in leaving behind a place that was imprinted with your hardships.

  “I think I’ll burn this apartment down,” said Hobbs, storming out of my bedroom with a filthy glare. “This is oppressive as fuck, Vixen. I want to know the name and number of your landlord.”

  “Hate him all you want,” I replied, amused. “Rent was cheap, Hobbs. People around here sell their organs to the black market just to make rent.”

  For the first time in a long time, Hobbs actually smiled in response. It was so rare to see that happen.

  Ever since I’d gotten back into the picture, Hobbs wouldn’t leave me alone. He followed me like a bad smell, determined to make sure I had everything I needed. I figured he might have felt a little guilty for seeing straight through me outside Cabochon, but Hobbs never struck me as the kind of guy that felt guilty about anything. He was so textbook, every step in his life exacted, every decision and action thoroughly thought out.

  “And so, ends another chapter,” he said as I closed the blinds and set the keys on the counter for the landlord. “What can we expect on our next journey, Vixen?”

  With a grin, I said, “What have we endured thus far, Hobbs?”

  “Chaos and endless mourning.”

  “I would have said consistent togetherness, but okay, that’s another thing to add to the list.”

  “If you’re referring to the crew, I’d say you’re sadly right. I don’t know how I wound up with a bunch of idiotic fuckheads.”

  I laughed. “Ouch.”

  His nostrils flared. “They never let me talk.”

  “They get excited.”

  “I can’t ever finish a sentence without one of them saying something utterly meaningless.”

  I went past him to the kitchen and checked the cupboards one last time, making sure they were completely empty. “It can be infuriating,” I agreed. “Tiger’s learned to keep it cool, and Eman isn’t so temperamental.”

  “Because Eman is distracted by pussy.”

  I tossed him a curious look. “And what about you, Hobbs? Any attachments I should know about?”

  Leaning against the counter of the kitchen, he gave me a bored look. “I like my privacy.”

  “Is that a yes?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “So, there isn’t anyone.”

  “I didn’t say that, either.”

  “Okay, so there is someone.”

  “I know what you’re doing. Trying to annoy me into talking. It won’t work.”

  I laughed and, after checking the last cupboard, turned away. “I’m done, I think. The place is empty.”

  “I found a small present addressed to a Brian outside your door,” he mentioned suddenly. “I had one of the movers place it in the car for you.”

  I cringed so hard. “Brian returned my present after all this time.”

  Even Hobbs couldn’t look me in the eye. “That’s awkward.”

  Ever since that night, Brian had taken drastic measures to avoid seeing me. The feelings were mutual. I had to look both ways every time I stepped out of my apartment, which wasn’t often because Nixon demanded I be with him every night; he’d finally managed to convince me to move into the hotel until our house was built, though I say the word convince very loosely; it didn’t take much effort at all.

  My relationship with Nixon had escalated very rapidly, and yet it didn’t feel fast enough. One morning, I woke up to a closet full of dresses and a call from the front desk alerting me to dinner reservations at the hotel restaurant downstairs.

  I remembered my heart feeling like it had ballooned three sizes.

  Nixon was trying to incorporate our old us into the present, and I found solace in that.

  Things were different, but also the same, and together it was perfect harmony.

  It was weeks of sweet bliss. Weeks of enjoying each other’s bodies and company and endless conversation.

  As I slid into my heels, smiling softly at the thought of dinner with Nixon, Hobbs took me suddenly by the arm, causing me to look up at him. He looked down at me solemnly, stating, “You can’t leave him, Vixen. If you’re going to him, if this is what you really want, don’t expect he’ll let you go. He may tell you it’s up to you, but once you cross that line, I think he will snap. You will become his everything.”

  “What makes you think I want to go?” I asked lightly. “I’m leaving everything behind for us.”

  “Because I’ve seen him without you, and it broke me, Vixen.” Hobbs looked miserable as he reflected on it. “I never knew what it was like to watch a person live without their soul. I’d never thought it even possible. He proved me wrong, and the dreariness over those two years is not something I can easily forget.”

  I made sure he saw the stark look in my eye when I leaned to him, stating clearly, “I love him, Hobbs. I am going to look after this heart. I’m not going anywhere. Trust me.”

  His expression eased as he nodded at me.

  We left the apartment and rode the elevator down to the ground floor. As we stepped out of the building, we found Doll by the car, blowing bubble gum as she tried to fit my stuff in the boot of the chauffeur car Nixon had assigned for me.

  Hobbs rolled his eyes at her. “Ease it, Doll, you’ll break a nail.”

  “You act like I don’t wield a weapon for a living,” she retorted. “I think I’m more butch than you at things, Hobbs.”

  Coming close to her side, he gave her an admonishing look, sternly retorting, “Pull your fucking shorts down, Doll, I’m tired of seeing your ass hang out. I’m also tired of you talking to me in that fucking tone. You reel that fucking attitud
e in, or I’ll really show you how butch I can get.”

  Their interactions were always so fucking bizarre because Doll, who never listened to anyone or accepted anyone’s shit, always obeyed Hobbs. Her cheeks went red as she pulled her shorts down. I didn’t know how she was wearing it. It was the end of February now, and the weather was cold and rainy.

  I slipped into the car as they talked, not wanting to impede on them. I pulled out my phone – upgraded to the latest version, finally – and checked my messages.

  The most recent was from Nixon, telling me in x-rated details how much he looked forward to taking me to bed tonight. I responded that the feeling was so very, very mutual.

  Under that message were Kim’s from a few days ago, but she hadn’t messaged me since. Ever since she’d found out I was with Nicholas Cooper, she’d taken a step back, but not maliciously. She’d told me over lunch one day that Peter felt uncomfortable with her being around me in light of my connection to Nixon and his criminal affiliations.

  I understood her apprehension. I also couldn’t blame her, or Peter – even though he was a dirty lawyer. Some lines had to be drawn. We still spoke, we still visited each other in very public places, but she was less nosey this time around, though her curiosity was inescapable.

  When their spat ended, Hobbs slid into the front seat next to the driver, and Doll slid into the back with me. She looked like a scolded child, barely meeting my eye as she angrily put her seatbelt on.

  The ride back to the hotel was tense. The only sound came from the windshield wipers and the occasional throat clearing from the driver – which annoyed Hobbs because he glared at him every time he did it.

  Just when I began to think the ride was going to take forever, a loud BOOM erupted, making me jump in my seat. Traffic slowed down as clouds of heavy smoke emerged from up ahead. I leaned forward, trying to see what had gone wrong, trying to make out what building had just blown up, when Hobbs’ phone buzzed; and just as his buzzed, Doll’s buzzed at the same time.

  I watched as they both pulled their phones out, swiping through their screens, eyes transfixed.