by Celia Crown
They reach to draw their guns; I see a moment of an opening and raise my leg to slam my boot into the edge of the table for the guests to view their personal items. The table skids towards them in a burst of momentum and hurls them to the ground, they drop their guns and I take another swing at them by smashing another kick into the table to let the other edge meet their face.
The bank manager stares at me in horror, frozen in her spot as she drops the master hook for her keys. I calmly look her in the eyes until she trembles down to her bones, then I turn my back to her and stalk to the opening where Dan’s arms are pulling the last bag of cash.
I duck and step through the escape exit, leaning into the truck and slamming the door shut.
Mickey steps on the gas and we’re zooming out of the alley and into oncoming traffic. He laughs manically, snickering and choked on his own saliva.
“Focus!” Angelo screams, “I’m not going to be ejected from a goddamn car accident!”
Mickey whips his head across to the driver’s side, “Wear the seatbelt the way it’s intended to!”
“Just drive, you ancient being!” Angelo holds the handle by the door.
Mickey yells back, “I’m thirty! Three-zero!”
They bicker and cut into traffic and blending into the cars while I take off the gas mask, peering out the little peephole to see cops surrounding the streets and the bank. Roadblocks hinder more traffic flow, Angelo switches place with Cora and Mickey throws on his thick black-rimmed glasses.
The rest of us hunch into the back of the truck, using the tech machines disguised as kitchenware while the sticker on the truck clearing says gardening. I don’t know why Mickey wants to raise more suspicion to a big ass truck with this shit, but I trust him as he is the cowardly one in the group so his self-preservation will not allow him to go into prison.
He said that it’s to confuse the cops so much that the time to check each individual cars and licenses plates will take more time when they want to find out what the hell is going on with the weird truck.
Geek logic, it’s bewildering.
I move my head back, pressing my back to the wall as I listen in while we get to the roadblock. The officer’s voice asks to look into the back of the truck, Mickey shuts his mouth and let Cora take the lead.
Cora has one trick that always works; she would lean forward with her revealing dress and pouts her lips, wetting her eyes and drops her voice to a whiney tone that everyone falls for.
“Oh, officer!”
I cringe at her tone.
“Please let us through, we have so much seed to plant!” Cora exaggerates her voice, sexual innuendo dripping from her honeyed whine.
The cop clears his throat, “Miss, please—”
“Those flower pollen will get all over the truck and we have to return this rental in the best condition! I’ll get all wet from washing it, please let me through?”
Stuttering and stammering, the cop speaks over his radio and clears the path for us.
“Thank you, officer.”
I hear Angelo choke and groan, “Who the hell falls for that shit?”
Stepping out of the shadow as we move past the roadblocks and on the way to our meeting spot, we all drop back into our seats and sigh, the hardest part is over now and all that is left for me to do is get my little princess back.
The direction we’re heading into is the same direction as the hospital Romy is in, I lean forward to Mickey.
“Pull over,” I said.
His head doubles back from the road to me and utters his confusion as he starts to move through cars. Weaving through slow vehicles and stopping at the side of the road that’s a couple of miles away from the roadblock.
“What’s going on?” he asks, looking back at me.
This is where we split as we will never see each other again.
“I don’t know you and you all don’t know me,” I said, glaring heated at all four of them.
They understand the meaning and nods determinedly; there are no remaining ties of our ten years partnership. Yes, our trust within each other runs deep as a pseudo-family, but these ties are dangerous. If I want Romy to be with me, I need to make sure that nothing will harm her while we live the life of comfort and luxury with the millions in my offshore account.
I can't see or predict the future, but anything can happen and if by some dumb luck, it gets led back to me.
“Keep everything,” I offer them as a parting gift.
I may have been a strict, grouchy, and unapproachable leader, but I don’t play around when it comes to my life and livelihood.
Sliding the door open, I jump out without looking back and I leave the truck. Goodbyes aren’t necessary; I hold no sentimental memories with them as many would assume I would after spending ten years with them.
I’m not capable of feeling any attachment, or so I thought until I met Romy and got to know her.
No strings attached, that’s always been the motto I live by. One little string connecting me to my little princess is enough, she can smile at me and I would set down roots for her right where she stands and never let her leave.
Finding the shortest way to the hospital, I pull the collar up from my jacket and avoid any cameras by looking downward. My long legs shorten the distance significantly as the tall building comes to view. People were coming in and out of the emergency room as an ambulance arrives just in time.
I blend in with the shouting people as nurses wheels in a patient with blood all over the gurney. No one pays any attention to me, I’m just another man going to the emergency room for some injury.
Weaving and slipping past unsuspecting people, I dart up the back stairs and continue to keep my head down while occasionally glancing up just enough to see where the cameras are.
Coming to a stop by the nurses’ station, I put on a charming smile and put my back to the camera above. The woman blushes and stands up to meet me, her hands smoothing down her wrinkled uniform and clears her throat.
“How can I help you?” she asks, looking nervous while she catches herself from stuttering.
I keep my smile on, leaning in and lowering my voice, it’s velvety and deep. “I’m looking for one of your patients, Romy Quinn.”
Her face falls, “Oh, she—”
The nurse puckers her lips and shooting a side glance down the hall, “Who are you?”
“I’m her fiancé,” I said, nonchalantly lying through a straight face.
She nods, “Well…”
I stare into her eyes, her blush gets redder. That doesn’t affect me, I have gotten so enamored by Romy that it’s going to take more than a flustered nurse to get to me.
“I’m not supposed to say this, but you’re her fiancé so… she got discharged, the FBI agents around the corner said something about witness program because they think the man who hurt her would be coming back to kill her.”
I fake a gasp, “Do you know where she went? I have to see her!”
She shakes her head solemnly, falling my heartbroken and concerned fiancé act.
“Thank you,” I said, walking away with a smirk.
When I find her again, it means that we are meant to be together. A new identity, new home, and a new life are obstacles that I can get through; they mean nothing to a man with a hunter body and the mind of a beast.
“Daddy’s coming, little princess.”
The hunt begins again.
Chapter Ten
Romy
Did I make the right choice?
It’s a question that I always ask every time I wake up from my bed in my new home.
Five months later, in a new area and with unfamiliar faces around the neighborhood, I’m still not used to being here.
Kevin and I got relocated by the FBI with a new identity and a new home in a place that no one looks twice at. A city not too big, but also not too small where it raises curious questions from people in town.
In public, I go by the name of Melissa Carlson an
d Kevin went by John Carlson. We’re siblings on paper and public appearances, and it’s a cover that the FBI came up with since they think that Daddy would be looking for a man and a woman living together, but not a pair of siblings.
I want to go back to my own apartment and wait for him to get me, I miss him dearly and it’s hurting me emotionally. My therapist said that my trauma is too deeply rooted with Stockholm syndrome that I’m attached to him, unhealthily dependent on him.
She said that what I’m feeling is the normal process of healing and moving on, it takes time to break the spell-binding hold he has on me. She also mentions that I would likely think that I don’t want to, but that isn’t the real Romy talking. It’s the seed of doubt and struggle in me that wants to go back to my captor; it has something to do with his control over me through the pain because pain makes a deeper impact than anything.
Sometimes I don’t know if I know the difference between the little princess and Romy or if they’re separate entities. They could be one or they were different mindsets that were forced into one so now that I’m away from Daddy, I can’t separate them as they both want him.
The sessions are paid by the FBI, so Kevin said I should take full advantage of it. The therapist is a kind middle-aged woman, but she knows that there are things that I’m not telling her. It feels wrong for her to know about Daddy in a level that I know him and I hate how she tries to prod my thoughts without fancy words and mind games.
I’m proud that my lips are shut, but she wouldn’t be a certified professional if she didn’t get some information out. At least the FBI can't get any information from her so they could arrest Daddy for the things he did to me.
Patient confidentiality covers everything said in the sessions, I could confess to murder and the therapist can’t ethically say anything or she would be reported to the board for further actions since she breached the oath of sacred privacy.
She suggested hypnotherapy at the beginning when she thought that I was either too scared to talk about my experience or that I had blocked out my memories due to the severity and heinous crimes.
“Thank you, doctor.” I nod before closing the door to the therapist’s office door.
I practically ran out of the building because today is the last session the FBI paid for, and I don’t see any reason for going back since I feel okay. I don’t feel anything different from five months ago, but it’s been a hard month.
I wrap my coat closer to me and smile at Kevin through the car window as he drops me off wherever I need to go and would come to get me when I’m done doing errands. The first month was harsh; he wouldn’t leave me alone for one minute, especially at night where he would sleep on the floor with the makeshift bed.
He’s dedicated to protecting me because he blames himself for not being there to save me all those months ago. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that I don’t regret being kidnapped, I’m glad I did because I met the love of my life.
No, he isn’t, he would say.
Kevin and my therapist should meet as I believe they would be the greatest of friends.
Kevin is someone that I’m lucky to have; he uprooted his life to dedicate his time to keeping an eye on me and my journey to recovery.
Pretending to be sister and brother is not hard, it comes naturally to us as that’s how we acted before all this happened.
A big part of me still misses Daddy, I would cry at night because I was so lonely. Kevin chalks it up as nightmares, he could cuddle with me and I greedily use his supportive body as a replacement.
Daddy is much bigger and has more muscle, he smells deeper and his voice is a little rough and growly. Hands more powerful, commanding demeanor, and touches striding between the lines of gentle love and punishing discipline.
Kevin is a softie with a penchant for baby lotion.
“Hi!” I grin, dropping on the passenger seat.
He cocks a grin back, “Hey, how’d it go?”
I shrug, “It’s okay. Same old, same old.”
He pulls out of the sidewalk as I shiver from the burst of warmth hitting me, the cold from outside is still on my fingertips. I rub my hands together, tucking the seatbelt over my chest and shove my hands between my thighs to warm them.
I hum along with the song on the radio, the quiet neighborhood is empty and people are in their homes waiting for the biggest snowstorm of the month. The hype and warnings are written all over the weather reports, Kevin used the time of my therapy session to go grocery shopping since the estimated time we would be snowed in is approximately three or four days.
That is scary, I have never seen this much snow before. It’s colder than what I like, being bundled in thick clothing has benefits; it’s toasty and I sleep better being under heavy blankets.
Well, something had to give and it’s my preference for warmer climates.
The house provided for us is one-story, and it’s the major reason why Kevin slept on my room floor for two months before I convinced him that with the security alarm he installed at the windows is safe. Any little movement that suggests the windows being open would create a nasty beep that would be too annoying to sleep through.
“Home sweet home,” he groans, parking the car and taking the key from the ignition.
I giggle, “Come on, brother of mine. I don’t want my sugar cookies to turn to an icicle.”
He rolls his eyes at me, flicking my forehead with his boney fingers. “Help me with the groceries after you open the door. We’re doing this the manly way, one trip and that’s it.”
Fluffing my hood up, I let the weight drop on my head. Kevin stops me just as my hand goes for the door handle and a scrunched-up face, house key in my fingers to jab the metal into the lock and barge my way inside.
“Bring that heavy-duty bag; I don’t want those shabby plastic bags breaking.”
I scoff, “Why are you making one grocery trip more complicated?”
“Excuse you,” he said, putting his smooth hand on his chest. “More than half is your stuff.”
“You eat half of my half,” I corrected, grinning widely.
“I’m a growing man, puberty is still cart-wheeling inside me. But, fine. I’ll be a man and do this in one trip. Stay inside and I expect a welcome with muffins.”
Ignoring his description and excuse, I open the door and shut it as the wind blows snow in my face. Shuddering, I waddle through the piling snow at the driveway to the step where the door is.
As soon as I stop my hands from shaking, the key slides in and I hurry inside where I’m greeted by the heated house. The smell of freshly baked goods has my lungs expanding at the deliciousness as they are so much better than store-brought ones, but with the storm going to happen, I don’t think I can make more trips to the store of ingredients.
I hang the coat on the hanger with the hats and scarfs and then I wiggle my body to even out the heat in my skin. Toeing off my shoes, they get left there messily and forgotten until the next time I put them on.
Humming a song under my breath, I skip to my room to put on fuzzy socks but something in the corner of my eyes moved. I pause, furrowing my brows and glance over to see if it’s a black branch shifting with the strong wind.
The window shows nothing, there is no tree branch there or anything as a matter of fact. Being curious, I make my way towards the kitchen and scratch my head in confusion.
I could have sworn that I saw a bird taking a head dive with a speed unmatched by the wind going the opposite direction.
Rough and calloused hand burns my elbow; a strong yank twirls me around with my hair flying over my shoulders as I gasp in shock. My face makes impact with a hard surface, pain explodes on my forehead and nose as my chin also throbs slightly. The grip on my elbow is strong and my heart lunges up my throat as the smell I can never forget dominates the aroma of muffins.
“You just want to be punished, don’t you?” a deep voice rumbles with a rhetorical question.
My head jerks up by my own vol
ition or the big hand that flashed into my hair to force my neck to crank up, my eyes ends up confirming what my heart had been racing for.
“Daddy!”
He slants his lips into mine, stealing my breath as I moan happily. I can’t believe I actually stayed alive for five months without him; it’s a miracle that I’m living normally. I eagerly kissed him back, wrapping my arms around his strong waist as I stand on my tiptoes to get as close to him as possible.
He breaks the kiss, keeping my lips on his as he sneers and my heart jumps. A peculiar mix of tranquility and excitement fights for control, and for the first time, I feel truly at home and giddy to see the person who I have fallen in love with.
“Miss you,” I murmur on his lips, “Missed Daddy so much!”
He growls, boring his gaze into my eyes as he crushes my smaller frame to his massive one. My body yields to him and molds into his chest while he presses me close.
“Why the fuck did you run,” he demands, biting down on my lip.
I squeal in pain, pulling back out at him. Opening my mouth, I’m preparing all different kinds of replies to satisfy him before he does something that will put a bruise on me again. I catch the giggle that almost comes out; it would be bad to enjoy the punishment.
“Romy, how dare you leave me to fend for myself against the cold!” Kevin’s voice booms from the front door, directly viewing the kitchen and I freeze in Daddy’s arms.
He hisses, tightening his grip in my hair and I mewl in pain. It’s been so long since I felt anything remotely alive sparking on my skin, my addiction is starting to kick in and I want him to hurt me just a bit more.
“Who in the hell-hole is he?” Kevin throws the groceries onto the ground, tripping over his shoes as he stumbles towards the kitchen.
A mild panic thrums in my blood as I spin around, racking my brain to come up with something. Daddy’s hand is hot and heavy on my hip, drawing me back to his chest as he stands tall behind me. My body is under his shadow from the yellow kitchen light, he towers over Kevin too, but he isn’t easily intimidated like I am.
