I closed my eyes, rubbing my temples as pain edged at the corners. I frowned and made my way out of the bed. The end table next to me held a plate of pancakes, sausage, a glass of orange juice, a bottle of ibuprofen, and a note. I skipped everything and snatched up the note.
* * *
Annie,
Here’s breakfast and something to help with the pain. I would appreciate it if you didn’t try and burn my house down. I have something to do in the morning but I’ll be back in the afternoon. I’m looking forward to talking to you. -Hector
* * *
Memories came rushing in of how I spent my night. Or rather, how I was supposed to spend my night. I was supposed to declare victory in my ten-year plan of revenge. I was supposed to succeed. I was supposed to be on my way out of the country to start over. Cameron Wade and Annie Miller were supposed to be dead. And I was sure only one of us got the pleasure.
Fucker. I wasn’t going to burn his house down. The moment I could get my hands on him, I was going to burn him alive.
I stomped over to the bedroom door and pulled it open. Or I tried to, but it didn’t budge. Not even an inch when I put all of my strength behind my pull. It was useless. The door was locked. I crossed the room again and grabbed the butter knife next to my untouched breakfast, rushing back to the door and trying to pick the lock to no avail. After a good thirty minutes, and a string of curses and huffs of frustration, I gave up on my lock picketing, assuming he had more security in place than just an old-fashioned lock.
Hours passed, and I paced the room, from one side to the other, tracing my way around the bed, along the walls. After I counted the minutes for two straight hours, I finally succumbed and took the pills for my still throbbing head.
Begrudgingly, I cut up the pair of pancakes, still warm after being out for who knows how long. I ate the food. But I ate it angrily. Like an animal who hated its owner but ate the good stuff they fed him anyway. I grunted and I growled. I paced and paced. I pulled at my hair and flopped on the bed.
There were large windows in the room but after several shoulder tackle attempts, I realized that those were on lockdown, too. After the sun rose to its highest point, I grew anxious. I had no clue who this man was or what he wanted from me. Most importantly, why he stopped me from killing my lowlife of a father. I intended to find out…if I didn’t kill him first.
Just when I was considering trying to kick the bedroom door down, it opened and there he stood. The man from last night. The beautiful one. The dangerous one. The one that destroyed ten years of preparation in a matter of minutes.
I didn’t speak and I didn’t jump into action like I swore I was going to the moment he appeared. I just stared at him, taking him in. He wore different clothes from the night before. A black pair of basketball shorts and a plain white t-shirt covered his body. His feet were bare if you didn’t count the plain white ankle socks. He looked like he came back from either playing a game of basketball or watching it from another room. He wasn’t exactly dressed for “having things to do.”
That’s what I decided to focus on. Even though my stomach landed two front flips when I saw the intensity those deep brown eyes had to offer me, I looked him up and down, feeling my lips curve in a sneer. “Those don’t seem like the type of clothes that kept you from locking me in this room all day.”
He grunted, his lips upturning. “I see you’re already in a good mood. Did you sleep well?”
I folded my arms across my chest, my hips jutting out on their own accord, and glared at him. His eyes left mine for the barest second, shooting down to my hips before they returned. I glared harder.
He stepped into the room, not bothering to shut the door behind him, each slow, cautious step bringing him closer and closer to me. I refused to cower away from him. He might have been a cat, but I’d be damned if I ever became his mouse. His feet didn’t stop moving until our chests grazed. “We should talk.”
His breath floated across the skin at my temple and I barely caught the shiver it caused in time to conceal it. I tilted my head up, looking him in the eye. “So, talk,” I bit out.
He stepped to the side, sitting down on the edge of the bed. I turned my body, my eyes never leaving him. “I want to know why you want to kill Cameron Wade.”
He folded his hands in his lap, his eyes searching mine. Such a simple answer but my lips pressed together, reluctant to give him any sort of truth. I certainly couldn’t tell him my truth. Not that any of it mattered. Nothing did. He took the only thing I wanted away from me. “Why did you want him dead?” I countered, squaring my shoulders.
He shrugged. “He’s a bit handsy with the women down at the strip club. He crossed a line for the last time.”
My stomach, all of a sudden, dropped as if someone delivered the perfect round kick. He was still hurting women. I wasn’t naïve enough to think my mom was the exception to his behavior or that he felt remorse for what he did to her and spent the years respecting women. But hearing it out loud, I could no longer deny the truth. My mom wasn’t the only one. There were more. Countless more.
I turned away from Hector, digging my fingers into my denim-clad thighs.
It was a good thing Cameron already took his last breath. The rage swelling up in my gut felt as dangerous as a loaded gun and, like always, he was my target.
“I have a proposition for you.”
I spun back around to face my kidnapper. His eyes froze on my curled fists and I forced myself to unclench them, soothing them across my thighs. I had no idea what he was thinking. I had no idea why I was still here. He got what he wanted and I didn’t. End of story.
Ignoring the knot in my stomach, I took a step closer to him. Closer until I could feel the heat radiating from his body. I tucked my body in between his spread thighs, our bodies a breath away from kissing. He tilted his head back, still looking at me with those intense brown eyes. His lips pulled up in a smirk, his eyes almost sparkling.
I lifted my hands until they came to rest on top of his wide shoulders. I curled my fingers around his impressive muscles in a soft grip. His breath hitched and the soft sound made me want to sport a smirk of my own. I refrained, just barely. I bent down until our breaths mixed. If either of us moved the barest inch, we would be kissing. Again.
I couldn’t let that happen. He won the first round; I was winning this one. I slid my hands up from his shoulders, along his neck, until my fingertips grazed the softness of his hair. I pulled on the barely-there strands, tilting his head back and then, his bottom lip did graze mine, just the barest brush of skin. “You know,” I whispered with faux confidence. “Most people consider it a crime to choke a woman into unconsciousness and then kidnap her.”
His brown eyes shined with amusement. “It’s also illegal to tie a man up in his own house and kill him.”
I did smirk then. “I suppose so.”
He chuckled. And then my hands weren’t the only ones in play. His hands came up to my hips and tugged my body closer. No space separated us now. Our foreheads crashed together. My hips brushed against his stomach.
I tried to control my breathing, but it seemed nearly impossible. His body was so close to mine. The memory of kissing him at the forefront of my mind, yet so far away. I almost convinced myself I needed his lips one more time just to prove I remembered how it felt. “Anyone ever tell you that you are tempting?” I blurted out, immediately regretting it.
I could feel the rumble of his laugh against my hips and I hated that I noticed how beautiful it sounded. Like he didn’t do it too often, so it was always a moment when he let one slip. I grabbed his hands, peeling them from my hips before placing them on the bed on either side of him. He obeyed my silent command, allowing me to push his back against the mattress. He tilted his head to the side, asking me without words what the hell I was up to. I didn’t plan on answering that question.
I didn’t follow him.
I made a run for it.
I didn’t get far. He caught me wa
y before I even made it within reaching distance of the door. His hands, once again, claimed my hips and before I could even sputter a protest, I found myself slung over his shoulder. He made his, our, way back to the bed, sitting down in the same spot, taking me with him.
He slid my body down from his shoulders until we were about as eye level as we could get with our height difference. He wrapped my legs around his waist, making me sit atop his thighs.
I was back under his control and I hated it. I hated myself for not being more careful last night. I hated him for ruining my plans. I hated this whole goddamn situation.
“As I was saying,” he said, not a speck of aggravation or irritation in his voice. “I have a proposition for you.”
I remained quiet. Nothing he could offer me would be worth anything. He took the only thing I ever wanted away from me. I stared at him, unflinching.
After several minutes of my silence, his eyebrows scrunched up. “You don’t even want to hear what I have to offer?”
“The only thing you have that I want is a plane ticket with my name on it since you made me miss my flight by locking me up in this room all day,” I bit out.
His frown intensified. “What are you talking about?”
My own frown took place. Did he seriously not get it? “The murder plan. The fake ID. Have you never watched an episode of Criminal Minds?” I didn’t pause to find out. “Murder and flee, the golden rule.”
“You don’t think you would have been caught by the time you fled?”
“Why would I? I wasn’t planning on leaving any trace behind. And I hadn’t seen him in over ten years. There was no connection.”
He seemed to think about my answer. “So, that’s all you want in life? To kill him and start over.”
A weight as heavy as a rock from the Grand Canyon settled on my chest. Yes. That’s all that I wanted but coming from his lips, it sounded pathetic. He didn’t say it mockingly. I could tell from the way he looked at me. He wasn’t judging me; he wasn’t belittling me. He simply wanted to know.
I decided to go with the truth. “That’s as far as I planned.”
He nodded slightly and I tore my eyes from his. I didn’t want him to see, for my sake, how he stripped everything from me.
“Look at me,” he said, after a few moments of the only sound being our tangled breaths, his voice soft but demanding.
When I grew brave enough for his eyes again, his hands found my face and cradled it in his palms. I was too surprised by his suddenness to flinch or wrestle out of his hold. His palms felt rough but oddly comforting against my skin. “I didn’t kill him.”
That time, I did flinch. I tried to back up to get away from him but his hands gripped my head, holding me in place. “What do you mean you didn’t kill him?”
“Just that. He’s yours to kill, bonita.”
“You. Didn’t. Kill. Him.” I whispered each word slowly as if they were their own sentence, trying my hardest to make his words sink in. “Why?”
My body rose as he sucked in a deep breath. “I was going to. I’m not going to lie, I was going to. But there’s a history with the two of you. He just pissed me off. So, I’m giving him to you.”
I pressed my lips together to keep me from gaping at him. My heart felt like it had been crushed and revived all within seconds. I wasn’t sure if I was disappointed or in awe that he didn’t kill him. “Where is he?”
“He’s somewhere,” he said slowly. “Where he will remain until you’re ready for him.”
I sat up straighter on his lap. “I’m ready for him now.”
Hector shook his head, his words coming out soft. “No, you’re not.”
I huffed a humorless laugh. “You’ve known me for two seconds. I’m ready.”
“You think you’re ready?”
I nodded.
“Tell me your one-year plan after you kill him.”
“What does that matter?”
“In order to carry the weight of taking a life, yours has to be worth living, so, tell me. Annie is freed from the chains she thinks are binding her, what’s her first move?”
A growl slipped out of my mouth. “I don’t have to answer to you.”
“You don’t,” he agreed, plucking me off of his body and setting me down on the bed beside him, eliminating his touch. “But until you figure out your future, I’m not letting you bury your past.”
I stared after him as he walked across the room with ease like he didn’t have a care in the world. Just as he crossed the threshold of the room, he paused but didn’t look back. “Dinner will be ready in an hour. Hope you like Mexican food.”
I watched him disappear down the hallway and noticed he left the door open. I didn’t chase after him. I didn’t step foot out of the room I had been dying to escape all day. Instead, I sunk deeper into the bed, something uncomfortable curling up in my stomach.
Hands folded under my head, knees tucked deep into my chest, eyes open but unblinking, I let my mind consume me, something that was as natural to me as breathing.
It had been so long, year after year, seeming to span an entire lifetime, since I had someone in my life. I had to be so many things for myself: my best friend, my caretaker, and my family all wrapped up in one. I never connected with other kids that shared a roof with me or those I attended school with.
Once I booked it out of New Hazle and moved onto campus, I let myself have hope. I would no longer be the only one without a family. For the first time in a while, I’d be on a level playing field. Reality slapped me in the face almost instantly when I got assigned a roommate who moved in and moved out in less than twenty-four hours. As it turned out, my nightmares weren’t her jam. Funny thing is, they weren’t mine either but changing rooms didn’t really work for me.
The day my mom died, I was left all alone. No one to share my meals with, no one to watch daytime soap operas with, no one to give me makeup tips. She was a mom and best friend all wrapped in one. When I lost her, I lost everything. Other than when I needed to be vocal for school or work, I was the definition of silent. Just me and my rapidly spinning thoughts thinking ahead to the next hour, the next month, hell, sometimes even the next decade.
I didn’t know how long I lay there, body curled so tight, trying not to fret about my life being derailed in the matter of a single day. I tried not to think about how Cameron Wade would have been lifeless by now if only I wasn’t so caught up in my emotions. I could have been in Mexico by now, with a clean slate, instead of I don’t even know where, with a man whose eyes studied me a little too closely.
Letting out a long sigh, I sat up, surprised to notice the sun had long since set and the smell of something good, something food, filtered through the open bedroom door.
Living on nothing but packaged noodles and instant meals, my stomach never failed to embarrass me when I caught the smell of food that wasn’t prepackaged. My stomach growled or groaned, maybe a mixture of the two. My mouth watered. And somehow, my feet led me out of the four walls that had confined me for the past twenty-four hours.
The moment I crossed the threshold of my prison cell, my eyes bounced from side to side, up and down as I took in the interior of the house I found myself in. I stood on the second floor, surprised to see that there was nothing to it. Other than the bedroom behind me and a corridor the same size, the second floor was bare. An old-style banister, golden with an intricate design spanned across the room perfect for a king to spread his arms and stare at those beneath him.
I traced my fingertips across the golden steel until I reached the stairs. Pausing at the top, I gripped the handrail and looked down over the banister, confirming my suspicions. From this very spot, the whole first floor layout was visible. The bottom of the stairs ended where the dining area began, leading into the kitchen. Beyond the obvious space were hallways on both ends, rooms lining the walls. The interior of the house was beautiful, all golden hues and warm tones.
The smell of food grew stronger and I could hear
soft Latin music playing in one of the rooms, presumably the kitchen. I knew that’s where I would find him.
I didn’t know much about my kidnapper, if you could even call him that. I knew his first name and I knew he wanted to kill Cameron, so obviously he had some sense to him. A feeling in my gut told me he wouldn’t hurt me. Still, I wasn’t keen to be here, to be under his thumb. To not have set a flame to my past life, starting a new one for myself.
Sighing, I took one stair at a time, unsure of what would happen next. I wanted to stay defiant. I wanted to prove to him that I was more than ready to bloody my hands. I was more than ready to do the thing almost half of my life had been leading up to. But he held all of the cards. I was in his home, having no idea where I was or how I could get the hell out of here and he had Cameron in his possession. There was not a damn thing I could do but listen to what he had to say and agree to it.
I grunted as I reached the bottom of the stairs, not the tiniest bit happy to be stuck at anyone’s mercy.
My footsteps were quiet as I rounded the kitchen to see two pans on the stove, steam rising from each of them, tortillas in Hector’s hand as he heated them on a burner, and his head tilted on his shoulder as he held his cell phone in between the space. “Ha ha,” he deadpanned to whoever he was talking to. “You’re not planning on leaving the airport, are you? Because I will ki—”
The other person must have cut him off because he didn’t get to finish his sentence but he did grit his teeth and slap a heated tortilla on a plate on the burner with a little bit too much force.
I rounded the table and pulled out a chair as quietly as I could, soaking up the few seconds of Hector’s gaze not being focused on me. Since the moment we met, I had pointed a gun at him, kissed him, cut him, and straddled him. I was almost afraid of what would happen next.
“It’s never too late,” he replied, his voice thick with emotion. At the hint of concern, the love so loud in his soft voice, turned my body hot, my uncomfortableness making my entire body clammy. I was eavesdropping, but it didn’t feel like it until he said those few couple of words. I feigned a cough just so he knew he wasn’t alone.
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