Captive

by R. J. Lewis

  In that moment, sirens sounded. Police cars zoomed down the streets, their lights flashing, puddles splashing in their wake. Crowds of people ran in the direction of the explosion. I could hear horrified screams and cars honking their horns and doors slamming shut as they fled their vehicles and hurried in that general direction.

  Following not far behind were ambulances.

  “And so it continues,” Hobbs muttered, looking up from his phone. “Another one bites the dust.”

  “Goodbye, Vipers,” Doll whispered, pocketing her phone.

  I leaned back in my seat, staring idly ahead, knowing for certain the crew was behind this.

  I would later learn just how bloody it got.

  In a combined effort, Nixon and Flynn had dismantled the Vipers once and for all.

  Nixon…

  He looked up from his phone after reading Eman’s latest update. The Vipers’ main lair of business was currently up in flames. Their vaults had been emptied, their men guarding it wounded; the wiser of them had fled, scurrying from the police as it descended on the nondescript building in light of the explosion.

  Nixon stood at the terminal of the Vancouver port, watching a new shipment of storage containers being seized by the authorities. One little mouse told another mouse that the Vipers’ last hoorah wouldn’t be coming in via trucks, but in shipping containers.

  Nixon wondered how much torture Flynn inflicted on the poor Viper that had been kidnapped for such intel. It perturbed Nixon just a little bit how easy Flynn had slid into his role.

  “They’re done,” Tyrone said, coming up to stand beside him. “The city now belongs to the One Percent.”

  Nixon stiffened a nod. “They’ve come full circle.”

  Tyrone looked at Nixon, a bothered look in his expression. “I’m not trying to bring up the past, but I’ve learned some things very recently, and I’m not sure bringing them to light will matter.”

  Pocketing his phone, Nixon turned his attention to Tyrone. “What’s this about?”

  Tyrone rubbed at his jaw, searching for words. “I never liked the kid. I always felt…there was something about him that unsettled me.”

  “I thought it was the way he looked at Vixen,” Nixon replied. “Like he wanted her.”

  “See, that’s what I thought at first,” he replied, bringing his brows together. “But…the more I thought about it, the more it didn’t sense. The look he’d given her that very first day, when she stood by the window, after I’d warned him to look away, he…didn’t look at her like he looked at a girl he wanted because, we’ve been around him now and his behaviour to girls is a lot more loose than he had been with Vixen.”

  Nixon studied Tyrone carefully. “How did he look at her then?”

  “He looked at her like she was a…thing, Nixon. Like…she was a job.” He sighed now, seeming disturbed. “When he burned down your island, when he sent his men on a chase around the place, shooting shit up, there was no…method to it. He had the men circle the area long enough for us to get there, to find them and kill them. On top of that, taking Vixen in a car across the island just so she could get on a seaplane made no sense. The seaplanes had a station minutes from the hotel, Nixon. If he wanted her off the island, he would have whisked her away in under twenty minutes. He didn’t, though.”

  Nixon felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickle. “For what purpose?”

  “He wanted to get caught,” Tyrone told him.

  “He would have thought we were going to kill him.”

  “But you didn’t, and he knew it.”

  “That’s too omniscient, Tyrone.”

  “No, see, it isn’t,” Tyrone retorted, voice rising. “Think about it. Why did he stir shit with you so much? He wanted to see your reaction. He wanted to know how far he could push you. He made you think he was razor focused on the girl, but Nixon, it was you he was working all along. He studied you, the way Roz studied his jobs. He played you, the way Roz used to play around on the job. He was on the island long before he made his presence known. He’d watched you, studied you, found out your strengths…and your weaknesses.”

  Nixon took a few moments of silent deliberation to respond. “It’s a possible theory,” he finally said.

  Tyrone glowered. “You don’t believe it, though.”

  “No. Flynn didn’t know what happened on that mountain –”

  “What if he did, though? He worked for Toby for years. He was Toby’s best kept secret, Nixon. And then all of a sudden he’s galivanting back to San Diego to drive rings around the police? That’s bullshit. The kid knew what Hobbs was planning to do through Toby – Toby had informed Hobbs of the fucking job, had told him he might need a driver. Why say that to Hobbs? Hobbs had never needed a driver before that.”

  “You’re saying Toby had something to do with this, too.”

  “Toby would have looked over every inch of Flynn’s life, would have known with absolute certainty that Flynn was related to Roz. It takes some digging, only because their fathers were different, but not so much digging that it becomes impossible to mine out.”

  “Tyrone –”

  “You want to know the clincher?” Tyrone interrupted quickly, looking like a man on a mission now.

  “What’s the clincher?”

  “Okay, here it is.” Tyrone leaned closer to Nixon. “Roz had a warrant back in San Diego. Guess what it was for.”

  Nixon felt his heart plummet. “Rape.”

  “Rape,” Tyrone repeated, nodding. “Roz had a rap sheet longer than my arm. He was a fucking predator. You’re telling me Flynn, who he was close to, who he was brothers with, didn’t believe his brother was capable of it? He did know. And when Roz died for violating Toby’s granddaughter, Flynn disappeared from San Diego almost immediately. I asked around, and once again, not much digging was needed to learn that not only did Flynn go to Toby in light of it, he’d been going to Toby for years. He was close to Toby, so close he would have wanted Roz dead just as much for what he did to his granddaughter.”

  Nixon had to put his hands in his pockets the raging tremors coursing through his fingers. He clenched his jaw, running over the events in his mind, muttering, “Toby said once the One Percent’s fall was the greatest mistake. That Hobbs shouldn’t have given us that job because of the domino effect.”

  “It created a rift. Destabilized the drug empire.”

  “Which hurt Toby’s pockets because he was right into the cocaine industry in Seattle.”

  Tyrone nodded solemnly. “And now Flynn’s climbing his way to the top of the One Percent.”

  “And Toby will be behind it.”

  “Exactly.”

  With a weak shrug, he asked, “Where does Vixen fit into this?”

  “Vixen was a secret not even Toby knew about. Flynn wouldn’t have known she’d been on that mountain. He would have played his revenge card with her when he snatched her, maybe in an effort to turn her against you, but…I don’t think he actually believed she loved you.”

  “He thought she’d just go with him?”

  “Yes, in an effort to hurt you. To make you weak. He knew you loved her. He wanted to see you crumble. A person in despair needs all the support he can get.”

  “I did need it.” Nixon reflected on the moment Flynn had made first contact with him after the events on the island. He’d come to him looking sorrowful, wanting to make amends, wanting to work together.

  It may have all been bullshit.

  Flynn could have very well needed Nixon and the crew, and their connections, especially Eman’s (that man had his hands in everyone’s pocket).

  And now that Nixon really though it over, he recognized how easy Flynn drew his emotions out of him. Nixon wasn’t so cold. He didn’t kill in cold blood. And with Flynn behaving in that kid-like way, it was easy to assume Nixon wouldn’t have killed someone so lost and fragile. He played his role so well. Acted so vulnerable, it made Nixon think twice about killing him.

  The Flynn t
hat was sitting pretty in the One Percent now was ruthless.

  You don’t become that ruthless in two years.

  Jesus.

  “What if I’d died on that island?” he wondered just then, feeling weak with anger. “What then?”

  “But you wouldn’t have,” Tyrone responded. “Flynn’s men never shot to kill, and Jane Sullivan was still in town after the seaplane she was supposed to leave on mysteriously suffered engine problems.”

  Fuck.

  Fuck.

  Fuck.

  Nixon began to pace and Tyrone watched, looking equally as betrayed. “What do you want to do, Nixon?”

  Nixon laughed emptily. “Nothing.”

  “Nothing?”

  “Don’t you get it, Tyrone? There’s nothing that can be done here. They’ve ascended and we helped them. I’ve established myself here, used my real identity to live as clean and transparent as I can. To try and undo this is…impossible. We have a gang that’s untouchable now. We have a cartel on the other side of this working to bring their supply in. We have our crew’s businesses cleaning the money as it funnels through. The set-up itself is impeccable.”

  “But we got here under a lie.”

  “That’s right. It was.”

  “It means we can’t trust him.”

  Nixon nodded, stopping to look up at the cloudy sky with misty eyes. “It means…It means we have to stand our ground at all times. It means…we have to stand on guard always to protect what we love.”

  It meant an eternity of uncertainty. A lifetime of working to keep the peace, or else everything he built might come shattering down around him.

  It meant spending every second cherishing his Queen.

  Epilogue

  Victoria…

  Nixon opened the door for me and helped me out of the car, planting a soft kiss on my lips. We ignored the eyes darting our way as he took me by the hand and walked me through the hotel doors.

  Under the lobby lights, I glanced down at the diamond on my ring finger, loving the way it sparkled in all directions.

  “You like it, Mrs Cooper,” Nixon stated, smirking at me.

  “I love it,” I corrected, squeezing his hand tight. “I can’t get enough of it.”

  We had a small ceremony in the backyard of our sprawling new home. Hobbs married us under a blue summer sky. It was strangely emotional for everyone there.

  The entire crew looked like they were fighting back tears. I was sure they were mostly happy to see Nixon finally at peace.

  I was busy, back in school, still figuring myself out. I had made a few friends, but it was a little hard because everyone knew who I was, and it was sort of off-putting to them. Nixon had made the news repeatedly, throwing hard cash into businesses, even donating to causes. I wasn’t sure he gave a true shit about the charities. He did it to make me happy, to see the approval in my eyes. But everyone suspected he had connections to the bikers – they were always frequenting his businesses, partying at his club, eating at his restaurants, crashing at his hotel.

  “I like what you did to me this morning,” he murmured to me. “I could get used to you taking charge more often.”

  I laughed. “I think I didn’t like it as much as you did.”

  His eyes shined. “No?”

  “No.”

  “So when you rode me, fingers digging into my chest, moaning my name like a prayer until you came around my cock, it wasn’t all that good?”

  “It was alright,” I lied, downplaying it. “I’ve had better moments.”

  Just as we arrived at the meeting room, he put his hand on the knob and turned to look at me, that challenge in his eye. “Do you think, if I took you on the table in front of everyone, I could get you to tell me the honest truth?”

  I slid closer to him and pressed a kiss full of tongue and heat against his mouth. “I think you can get me to tell you anything you want, Nixon.”

  His eyes widened. “A truth, for a change.”

  “Don’t get used to it.”

  “No, I know better not to, baby.”

  He opened the door and we walked in. The table was full, the crew were already seated. I glanced around, catching every face.

  Tyrone.

  Rowan.

  Tiger.

  Eman.

  Doll.

  And a few new ones I was slowly getting to know.

  My eyes widened when I caught sight of Flynn at the head of one end of the table. He sat there, stoic, his face hard in a way I was still unused to. He wore his cut – PRESIDENT – on proud display.

  Nixon took a seat at the other end of the table. He brought me down on his lap, his fingers lightly brushing my inner thigh just under my dress. His gaze was trapped straight ahead, locked onto Flynn. His light expression, his soft smile and amused eyes were gone.

  He looked…hard.

  And Flynn…looked back with a very similar expression.

  I spotted Tyrone’s head snapping back and forth, a guarded look on his face. It unnerved me just a little that something felt a little off.

  “Who owns me?” I whispered down at Nixon, lightly biting at his ear to catch his attention.

  He blinked away from Flynn and turned to look at me. “I do, baby.”

  I smiled challengingly. “Prove it.”

  He smashed his mouth to mine, owning my lips, owning my soul. His tongue clashed with my tongue; his lips bruised mine, and I groaned in approval. We kissed with the same passion of two lovers who hadn’t seen each other in years.

  When I pulled back, satisfied by the wanting look in his eye, I slid off his lap, quickly glancing at Tyrone. Tyrone stiffened a nod to me, grateful I’d broken the ice.

  Standing behind Nixon, I slid my fingers through his hair and down his face. I trailed my touch down his throat before sprawling my hand possessively against his chest, right over his heart.

  This was my man.

  My captor.

  My love.

  My saviour.

  And this crew was my family.

  The door slammed open, a glowering Hobbs burst through, mouthing off the traffic, mouthing off the city. “I fucking hate this place,” he growled. “Why do you idiots insist on dragging me out of my fucking home and amongst asshole drivers? It doesn’t stop raining, and my hair is ruined, and this wind will fucking be the death of me!”

  “You should have an umbrella,” Tiger said. “Everyone has an umbrella.”

  “I don’t want a fucking umbrella,” he retorted.

  “You need better hair gel,” Doll inserted. “That’s why your hair isn’t staying in place.”

  “I think he just needs to cut it,” Rowan replied. “It looks a bit long to me.”

  “I think his hair is beautiful,” Eman complimented. “It really is, Hobbs. It’s framed around your face just right.”

  “Fuck you,” Hobbs cursed, throwing his briefcase down on the table. “Fuck your bullshit advice and bullshit compliments, I never asked for it.”

  Everyone laughed. I felt Nixon’s chest rumble, saw the way Flynn’s face broke from stern to amused.

  Hobbs fought the smile on his lips as his gaze swept to mine and lingered just an extra second for me to see the sweetness there.

  Then he slammed the briefcase open and growled, “Alright, fuckheads, this is what we’re gonna do…”

  THE END.

  Author’s Note

  Did you seriously make it this far? What’s wrong with you? Did you REALLY just read 140 000 words that I wrote?

  Pinch me, please.

  If it’s your first time giving me a shot, or your tenth time, thank you so much.

  This book wrung me dry.

  Please, it would be amazing if you stopped to leave an honest review. Reviews help us authors out like you can’t believe.

  If you want to check out more of my releases, or send a message, you can find me here:

  www.facebook.com/rj.lewis13

  As always, thank you! <3

  -RJ
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