Captive

by Trevion Burns

  The soft warmth of the white sheets and comforter below her tempted her to fall into a dreamland once more. A dreamland where Linc wasn’t slouched low in a chair, oblivious to the fact that she’d woken up, texting on his phone. A world where a sharp line of concentration wasn’t racing down the middle of his brow as whatever he was writing seemed to irk him to his very soul. A world where he wasn’t making plans for the trade while she’d been enjoying the best sleep of her life in the bed across from him. Mia wanted nothing more than to surrender to the tempting invitation of the plush bed below her, but running from the truth wasn’t an option.

  Being in denial would only make the reality of her situation ten times more painful.

  So she opened her eyes and sat up in the bed, propping herself on her naked elbows, nipples hardening against the cool sheets as her eyes lingered on him.

  He must’ve felt her looking because his green gaze flew to the corner of his eyes, and a bashful smile parted his lips.

  He was shy. Shyer than she’d ever imagined him capable of when they’d first met. It was one of her favorite things about him. How much he hated being stared at. It was something she’d miss about him once they left each other. Once he gave her up.

  Her throat bobbed. She was thankful she had dark skin because she could feel her cheeks heating up and she didn’t want him to see it.

  His gaze ran her body. Her hair, rumpled from sleep, her naked breasts pressed into the bedding, her long torso and the steep hill it created at the curve of her unexpectedly plump ass. His eyes didn’t stop until they’d reached her feet, which she swung softly back and forth through the air.

  And the phone in his hand was forgotten, the frown on his face now a direct result of her and not the man he was at war with.

  He tilted his head, shaking it softly, wetting his lips with the tip of his tongue, voice tortured as he warned her. “If you don’t put some clothes on…”

  “What?” she challenged, twisting her body just enough to show him the full curve of her bare ass.

  He clenched his teeth and drew in a soft hiss. “You have no idea the danger you’re in.”

  “Hurt me.” She wagged her ass. “Destroy me. Don’t hold back.”

  “Don’t start something you can’t finish.”

  Too late. The playful smile that had been on her lips petered away, gaze shifting to the phone in his hand until the smile vanished completely.

  His smile fell too. “You scare the shit outta me. You know that?”

  Her gaze flew back up to his.

  “You terrify me,” he admitted, his eyes growing serious. “I’m terrified of getting addicted to you. Same way I got addicted to the bottle that almost cost me, my daughter.”

  Her deep breath filled the room. She didn’t need him to equate her to the alcohol that had caused him to make a foolish mistake, months earlier. A foolish mistake that had cost him his chance at catching Emma the first time around. She understood that, in his own way, he was telling her that she was no good for him. That keeping her meant losing Emma—again. That keeping her was out of the question.

  Her eyes moved down the floating black staircase that led to the downstairs portion of the small Parisian apartment, where wall-to-wall windows lined the farthest wall, and most of the original fixtures were still in place, tempered only by the stainless steel appliances and gleaming white cabinetry of the updated kitchen, which gave the room a modern feel. It was a small apartment but in a prime location.

  “What’s wrong?” His voice was soft. Patient. “What’s wrong with you?”

  “Your friend is very generous,” she said, ignoring his question, even though it was the second time he’d asked since the night before. She played her fingers together jerkily, her voice wavering as she looked toward him but not at him. “Letting you drag your hostage to every million dollar penthouse he’s got scattered across the EU.”

  “You’re not my hostage.”

  Her eyes finally flew to his. “No?”

  “No.”

  “So I’ll just go downstairs, walk out the door, and never come back, then.”

  “Is that what you want?”

  “If I’m not your hostage, what am I?”

  The look that crossed his face was one she imagined crossed every man’s face whenever the woman in his life asked that question. If Mia could’ve stopped herself from asking it she would’ve, but the words had fallen from her lips before she could, and now there was no turning back.

  “The bullets you put in that goon’s back says you’re my partner, Mia.”

  She heard the change in his deep voice, the waver at its core that sounded suspiciously like the one taking up residence in the depths of her voice too. “Partner.”

  Not girlfriend. Not sweetheart. Not even lover. Certainly never a life partner, definitely never a wife, but simply a partner.

  “Who are you texting?” she whispered.

  His Adam’s Apple jumped.

  He decided on the truth. “Malik.”

  Her teeth ground. She nodded. When he stood from the chair, clearing his throat, she didn’t lift her gaze to watch. Instead, waiting until he came to the edge of the bed, took her arm, and pulled her up to her feet to meet his eyes. He kissed her lips in a soft peck and then entwined their fingers, guiding her toward the staircase at the far corner of the loft. Their feet pattered down the stairs, his fingers tightening around hers with every step, and all Mia could think about was how she wanted those fingers wrapped around hers forever. Even if his own fingers were curled as tight as he could get them, crushing her bones, she’d bear the shatter. It would be worth the pain.

  When they made it to the main level, where an all-white living room set faced a humble fireplace and entertainment area, Linc moved to the radio and bent down in front of it, pressing the power button. It backfired softly as turned it on, but then music floated out. He twisted the knob until he found a channel he liked before standing tall and facing her.

  “R and B?” She crossed her arms over her chest as he slowly made his way back to her with his arms outstretched, already feeling the tight muscles under his skin relaxing as a sultry baritone singer’s voice wafted through the radio along to a rhythmic, mellow beat. “I’d taken you for a rap fan myself, but okay…”

  “Too many bitches, hoes, and thots,” he grumbled, taking hold of her crossed elbows and nudging them, silently asking her to relax and take his hands. She did. “This is my swag.”

  “Your swag?” She let him wrap her arms around his neck as she teased him, pulling her in close and clasping his hands at her lower back. In seconds, their bodies were flush. His unique, maddening scent made her nostrils flare for more as she cuddled her cheek into the valley between his pecs. She felt like she could feel every ripple in his six pack abs slamming against her heaving stomach as her breaths started coming harder and faster. She waited for his hardness to come against her stomach. The hardness she’d convinced herself was the only reason she was no longer bound at the hands and feet—because that would make screwing his hostage exponentially more difficult.

  But he wasn’t hard, at least not yet, as they rocked slowly back and forth to the music.

  He tightened his arms around her waist. “Relax, Mia.”

  His words warmed her hair where his mouth and nose were buried, and she felt every deep rumble in his chest as the bass of his voice vibrated through his skin and onto hers.

  How did he know she wasn’t relaxed? Her cheek was pressed against his chest—face turned away so he couldn’t see her bulging eyes. Her stomach was rumbling, but not enough for him to feel it from where her belly was pressed against his. Perhaps he could feel her heartbeat though, currently sending one right hook after the other straight into her ribcage, with the kind of bruising power that could bring a heavyweight champion to his knees. Or maybe it was her feet, which seemed to have gotten disconnected from her brain, getting tangled up in his with every sway of their bodies. Or maybe he could feel the he
at on her cheek from where it was pressed to his chest, so hot and red she worried it might melt right into his skin.

  Once again, her lips spoke before she could stop them. “Have you ever loved anyone other than Lisa?”

  She let silence reign. Her heart stopped trying for that knockout punch to her ribcage, stopped fighting mid-beat, waiting for his answer. But she knew her heart still had its gloves raised high, even if it had taken a short interlude, just in case the wrong answer came fluttering from his lips.

  He breathed deep at the question, making her head rise with it. “Yes. Once.”

  Her heart shattered, pieced itself back together, tried on a new pair of red boxing gloves and resumed pummeling her ribs again as the truth washed over her like a tidal wave.

  “But it wasn’t meant to be,” he whispered.

  “Veda,” she concluded.

  “She’s a friend.”

  “A friend you once loved.” What I wouldn’t give to be your “friend.” “A friend you still love.”

  “Not like that.”

  “Is that why you called her on the phone last night? Because you don’t still love her ‘like that’?”

  “Like I said, Mia, she’s a friend, and I like to hear her voice. And I didn’t call her. I called her, Gage, and my newborn nephew. I told you, it reminds me of home. Makes all this madness a little more bearable.”

  Was that all she was to him?

  Madness?

  She pulled back and looked up at him, searching his eyes as her body proceeded to fall apart under her skin like an emotional avalanche.

  “I lied to you,” she admitted. “About my first boyfriend. About him not knowing I was going to be taken.”

  A wave of fury darkened his face.

  Her voice wobbled. “Not only did he know… he was the spotter who orchestrated it all. Spent months gassing my head up with words of love and devotion. Months building me up just so he could knock me down.”

  He swallowed thickly as the cringe on his face grew deeper by the second. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  Her chin jutted out as she fought the horrid feeling coursing through her. “Because I was embarrassed. I was embarrassed that a man I loved with all my heart could ever give me up.”

  A knowing look blazed across his eyes.

  She pressed her tongue against the back of her teeth, trying to literally bite it, but she couldn’t. “He started a relationship with me. Pretended to love me—only to hand me off to the monsters who abducted me and destroyed my life forever.”

  He clenched his teeth, craned his neck ever so softly, and closed his eyes for several long moments. When he opened them once more and reclaimed her gaze, all the softness that had previously been there was gone.

  “Mia, I was upfront with you—”

  “You set the date for the trade—”

  “You knew all along that my daughter would come first—”

  “Didn’t you?” she asked, her eyes filling, voice breaking. “You set the date.”

  “Yes.”

  She took her arms from around his neck, shoved his hands away from her body, and tried to move away, but he claimed her wrist and pulled her back to him.

  Her chest heaved as she looked up at him. “So that’s it, huh? You’re really going to give me up that easily?”

  He didn’t respond, his jaw rolling wildly.

  “When were you going to tell me?” she demanded, feeling like her heart had climbed to the middle of the throat, making every word break. “Huh? After you took me to bed a couple more times? Made sure that six-year itch got a nice good scratch before you finally threw me away like garbage?”

  “How many times would you have let me take you to bed, just to escape him?” Fire lit up his gaze. “How many times would you have let any man who had the unspoken promise of freedom on his lips?”

  She nearly slapped him. Instead, she snatched her wrist out of his grip as the insinuation behind his words sent shards of fury slicing through her body with a blade so sharp she felt like she was bleeding internally.

  “Mia…” He seemed to realize instantly what he’d just said, slamming his eyes closed when she moved away from him—hurrying over to the couch. “Baby, I’m sorry.”

  “No, I’m sorry.” She took the lightweight purple throw that had been draped over the couch and wrapped it around her naked body with her eyes lowered, tying it at her breasts. “I’m sorry for being stupid enough to sleep with a man I barely knew. To actually expect him to… to…” She sputtered, her voice just as uneven as her trembling hands as she fumbled to tie the throw at her breasts. She managed, all the while speaking to him through clenched teeth as he approached the couch with his palms held out, face up in surrender. “Not even Malik has ever hurt me like this.” Her eyes blazed up to his. “At least with him, I always knew I was disposable. He made it crystal clear, which is the one decent thing he’s ever done. Never once did he mislead me into giving him the capacity to hurt me like this.”

  He stopped dead in his tracks, and the regret in his eyes vanished, voice rising. “Mia, I tried to stop. You’re the one who begged me to take you to bed in Venice. I told you. We talked about this.”

  She dropped her hands to her sides, straightening just as the first tear popped from her eye and raced down her cheek.

  He winced at the sight but didn’t move closer, the way he usually would, to wipe it away. “You said you wanted to help me get Emma back—”

  “I do!” She cried, her eyes filling to the brim along with her shattered voice. “But… God, Linc, I at least thought… I at least thought you’d fight for me too.”

  He looked in the midst of shaking his head but stopped himself midway.

  She went on. “And I never would’ve begged you to take me to bed if I’d known I was going to end up dead.”

  The color drained from his face, his eyes widening.

  Mia nodded as both realization and confusion washed over him. “When that asshole burst into our room in Venice? Right before you shot him? He shouted something to his partners downstairs, in Russian.” Another tear raced down her cheek, her voice going squeaky. “He said, ‘Они любовники. Она сосала свой член.’ Do you know what that means?”

  They both knew he didn’t.

  Mia was happy to clarify. “It means ‘they’re lovers’ and ‘she’s sucking his dick.’”

  The moment the words hit his ears, as well as the unspoken significance behind them, Linc slammed his eyes closed, lifting a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose.

  “The reason Malik paid over a million dollars for me after I was abducted was because I was a virgin. Virgins aren’t tricked. They’re only sold once—at top dollar—for their innocence. And he took my innocence on our wedding night. In his twisted mind, my purity meant he’d upheld the principals and commands of his Almighty Allah. To him, it didn’t matter how many women he’d been intimate with, but only that his bride was pure on their wedding night. It’s the reason he’s always considered me one of his finest possessions.” Her voice hit stratospheric levels. “Now that his soldiers have caught me in bed with you, I’m tainted. Damaged goods. No better than a speck of dirt on the bottom of his thousand dollar shoes. He’ll never look at me the same—never.”

  Linc opened his eyes and reclaimed hers, licking his lips as his breath rose so high it nearly overpowered the soft music still pulsing from the radio.

  Mia spoke the words she could see he already knew. “He’ll make the trade because he needs me to win the election. But I have no doubt, one day, when the election is long gone, and nobody’s looking? Months, maybe even years down the line? The news will hit the papers that I’ve gone missing…”

  His lips curled.

  Mia went on, voice shaking. “My sudden disappearance will make international headlines. The big mystery that no one can solve. Not even the finest investigators in all of England.” A cynical smile burned its way across her lips. “And London’s beloved
Prince Ali will be on every channel, heartbroken, blubbering, mystified about where the love of his life has gone and praying for her safe return. Knowing damn well he’s the one that buried her body. Not the body of his wife, but of the whore who slept with her captor. Being a widower may even help him in the polls when he finally decides to make a run for Prime Minister. The public loves a good sob story, after all. I’m sure his communications department is already scripting the narrative. A real tear jerker. An enthralling account that’ll put a New York Times bestseller to shame.” She drew in a sharp breath. “He’s going to kill me, Linc.”

  “Nobody’s touching you—”

  “He’s going to kill me,” she cried over him, letting the first soft sob leave her lips.

  He closed the space between them in one big step and cupped her jaw with trembling hands.

  She tried to crane her head away, to drop her eyes, to do anything to avoid his gaze, but he held tight, forcing her eyes to his.

  “Hey, look at me.” He held her tear-soaked face still and bent down, waiting for her gaze to lock to his, searching her eyes frantically with his eyebrows raised high. “I’m never gonna let anything happen to you.”

  “I would never ask you to chose between Emma and me—I would never ask that. I want you to get her back. I just—” Her voice broke as she found herself on the verge of falling completely apart.

  He shushed her softly and stood tall, circling one of his hands around her neck to pull her in, encasing her in a hug so tight he nearly stopped the last wisps of breath that remained in her gasping lungs.

  Mia blubbered, clawing her fingernails down his back. “I’m so… so scared.”

  “Stop.” His voice warmed her hair once more, and he reached up to stroke it. “Mia. Stop.” When her gentle cries didn’t slow, he pulled back and took each of her arms in a death grip, voice laced in disbelief. “You really think I would ever give you up? After everything we’ve had together?”