Trapped

by Rose Francis

  But in a moment of catching his expression on another return trip, she had run out of excuses; there was no other way to interpret the look she’d seen, and she had almost confronted him about it.

  You must not have him killed, she wanted to say—a silly thought because why would he? Steven had been Gregory’s best friend since third grade—would he really consider taking him out because he wanted her for himself? Still, she knew Steven had the means and all the required skills as a killer-for-hire of sorts, the kind sanctioned by government.

  She wrote their attraction off as merely a forbidden fruit variety, no longer doubting he desired her since she had so often caught it darkening his bright blue eyes when they settled on her.

  And now here she was, no longer technically forbidden fruit, and she wondered what it meant—if his attraction would persist.

  She curled herself up on her side of the vehicle as Steven settled in for his nap opposite her.

  When he turned his back to her, she relaxed again.

  She chastised herself for being silly and stretched her body out, turning her back to him, then curved into the seat.

  Eventually she drifted to sleep.

  CHAPTER FOUR: ADMISSION

  Serena felt like her sixth sense had gone off.

  Her eyes popped open, and she was afraid to look in Steven’s direction, suspecting she’d find him staring at her.

  “Are you awake?” she whispered, not turning around.

  “Yeah,” he said, his voice husky but languid.

  “Did you get a good sleep at all?”

  “Sort of. Not really.”

  She felt his energy shift.

  “I’m not sure back here is more comfortable,” he said, and it sounded like he was beginning to sit up.

  She looked in his direction then, despite her fright.

  She saw that he had a slight smile on his face, and it angered her a bit—was he laughing at her?

  “What are you grinning at?” she asked, sitting up.

  “I know what you’re thinking,” he said, his mouth still slightly upturned.

  “How could you possibly know what I’m thinking?”

  He got up and she jumped.

  She heard him chuckle as he went past her without touching her, heading toward the interior hatch opening to the front seats.

  “I’ve known you for what, four years now?” he said, turning back around to look at her.

  She folded her arms. “Hardly. You’re gone more than half the year. You spend, what, four months of the year here? With months in between each month you get to be home? And when you’re here, we spend maybe a week of that time with you...”

  “Right. So basically, you don’t know what I’m capable of, and even though I know you’ll never admit it, you’re scared of me. As far as you knew, when I was gone, I was in some god-forsaken country doing who knew what. As my dear friend Jason once so eloquently told you, I kill people for a living. You know I won’t kill you, despite the many ways I’m capable of doing so, because the very thing that keeps you safe is the thing that made you jump just now, the thing that now has you at a different sort of disadvantage. But you shouldn’t be afraid of me, Serena, you have to trust me; your survival depends on you trusting me.” Then his voice lowered into a sort of a growl as he leaned toward her. “We both know I’m no longer just some lion, trapped behind a moral cage. The rules no longer apply with what’s going on around us. You’re still a mouse, but no longer out of my reach, so I don’t blame your fear one bit. But you need to trust me.”

  With that he disappeared through the hatch to the driver’s seat.

  * * *

  Steven didn’t bother to chastise himself for his lack of verbal control; Serena needed to hear every word he’d said.

  Her personality was coming back full force, her analytic nature making its reappearance.

  But he’d had enough of her questions and pretending she wasn’t vulnerable to him. Didn’t she know he could tell her anything anyway, true or not?

  Forty miles per hour...he should have said twenty-five was the top speed for the APC.

  And he’d stop for various reasons all right, and she was stuck with trusting him as to why.

  Diesel, he’d say. Or to get some stuff from Target. Whatever.

  He’d find plenty of reasons to delay their arrival because he had lied to her, and not because he meant to, but because he’d still been lying to himself up until just a few moments ago.

  She was in danger. And it had nothing to do with the Morphs.

  Serena had been able to deny him so much before, but now, she could deny him no longer, and he meant to take advantage of their circumstance—he had to satisfy his lust for her once and for all.

  Steven had never been interested in black girls before Serena, never really saw them—even though he’d run into some while growing up. They didn’t exactly abound where he lived, but few existed here and there, and he never looked at them long enough—if at all—to figure out if he was attracted or not.

  Had there been only one black girl at his school, she wouldn’t have been missed by anyone, but he still wouldn’t have seen her as a romantic prospect, no matter what she looked like. He just never looked that closely; society’s message was clear who a desired mate should be.

  But then Gregory brought Serena home, and at first, Steven barely registered her, considering her one of the many who came and went in his friend’s life. He had no reason to care about what she was like, no reason to think she’d hang around longer than a few months or weeks. Perhaps even a few days. But she was always there when he returned from his trips abroad, and in between, he had to endure his friend talking about her.

  At first, it all sounded like “blah blah blah” to him, but then he started looking for all the things Gregory said she was, started analyzing and assessing her every move and reaction, every quirk of her personality to see why on earth she was still around.

  The first thing he noticed when he actually started looking was that she was beautiful in a way he wondered how it was possible to miss before. No one else seemed to miss it—whenever he tagged along with her and Gregory somewhere, some random person would tell her how beautiful she was, and she’d take the compliment gracefully and with a heartbreaking smile, but the knowing smile of someone who heard the compliment every single day from people of all ages, races, and creeds.

  The shape of her eyes, the symmetry of her face, the sensual full lips he eventually realized in horror he had started wondering what it was like to kiss—he had a hard time not staring at her face once he finally saw her, her beauty calling to him like some siren.

  To make things worse, her body was unbelievable sexy when she decided to abandon her usual tomboyish clothes for more flattering outfits, her curves arousing more than his curiosity.

  He found himself wondering what she looked like nude, longed to see what the feminine peaks and valleys of her body looked like dipped in brown. Wanted to run his tongue across every part of her and see how she responded.

  Beyond her bewitching beauty, he realized she also had a sweet side, her capacity for empathy and compassion for people belying the other part of her he felt honored to bear witness to—the girl was tough. Tougher in ways than even Gregory. Still, when Steven looked at her after seeing how the whole of her worked and reacted in various situations, what he saw was a fragile shell over a soul aching to feel safe enough to open up. When she was with his friend, he saw a strangled flower, a pinched bud longing to bloom.

  Steven realized he was in trouble only when there came a time Gregory raised his voice at her, spoke to her in such a rough, derisive way that Steven had to stop himself from punching his best friend square in the face for daring to speak to her like that.

  All he wanted to do was comfort her in those moments of verbal cruelty, but had to sit quietly as she more often than not defended herself against his friend’s attacks, not letting him get away with an attempted verbal beat-down.
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br />   All Steven could do was smile to himself at those times, proud of her backbone as if he had anything to do with it.

  It wasn’t long before all he could think was that Gregory didn’t deserve her; he didn’t treat her like the precious gem she was.

  And now, here she was—a sitting duck.

  Steven reveled in the pleasure surging through him at the thought.

  There was no one around to protect her from him now, not even her adorable, tough self.

  He started up the APC.

  CHAPTER FIVE: STALLING

  Serena was losing her patience.

  They had stopped for diesel, they had stopped for Steven to raid abandoned stores, they had stopped for him to take out some ‘Morphs’ as he called them, and now they were stopping again.

  Steven had driven through most of the night, but somehow, Serena had a feeling they were still in California.

  “I feel kind of gross,” he explained from up front. “I’m going to bathe in this upcoming body of water—the next one won’t be for a while since we’ll be going through...well, you know—the desert. The Morphs don’t like water so the water itself is probably clear, but I’m going to clear the area anyway. Feel free to jump in, too.”

  “I’ll wait till you’re done,” she said quickly, trying to keep irritation out of her voice.

  Why was she getting mad at him? He had come to get her—was trying to save her—and had probably inconvenienced himself in...who knew how many ways? All because of her. She should be grateful instead of resenting him for not getting them to their supposed sanctuary faster.

  She sat there with folded arms, and, left with only her thoughts, admitted to herself what the real problem was: she felt like a sitting duck.

  She had needed two bathroom breaks after drinking half a case of water and had to endure the humiliation of his close eye, plus he had come to the back to pick out something else to eat besides the bars he kept up front. With each pause in their travels, with every movement she made, she felt stalked.

  She didn’t have to look at him to know Steven’s blue eyes were on her, watching her every move—from tucking her hair behind her ear to just looking everywhere but at him.

  He’d explained he had to keep an eye on her, and given their situation, it was obviously true. That should’ve been all there was to it, should’ve appeased her discomfort, but the truth was, she felt naked under his gaze, and more feminine than ever.

  She could feel the rawness of his masculine appraisal, his appreciation of the curves of her face and body.

  He looked at her like he hadn’t seen a woman in months.

  Then she thought about it—perhaps he hadn’t. She had no idea what his life was like after the outbreak. Heck, she barely knew what his life was like before it.

  Plus, she had always been wary of people who left regular life to do real battle, then came back into civilian life after having seen and done horrible things she probably couldn’t even imagine.

  How could they ever be normal again? Couldn’t they snap at any time?

  Still, she managed to pretend she didn’t secretly fear him, and the way he’d been able to at least act like a regular human whenever he came back helped.

  Besides, the mystery of his occupation, the physical prowess he obviously possessed, the secretive, yet revealing eyes—she found it all alluring.

  Even now she had to resist peeking at him as he bathed, and battled the bare images of his muscular form her mind tried to create.

  By the time she heard him come back, she had decided she would also bathe since they would be coming up on the base somewhat soon, and she felt a bit self-conscious about her state.

  Steven had her wait until he put clothes back on and was able to escort her to the water, despite them being parked almost in it, just at the edge.

  As she stepped forward she let her hair down, and felt his eyes on her as she stripped, then entered the still body of water, all with her back to him.

  She tried not to think about him looking at her butt, and couldn’t even think about how she’d make a graceful, demure exit without him seeing anything else.

  “Turn away, sicko,” she said lightly. “Don’t look at me like this.”

  “I have to watch you,” he said, and it almost sounded like something had caught in his throat. “I have to make sure you’re safe.”

  She turned her head to shoot him a dirty look even though she knew what he’d said was true.

  His eyes, often looking like blue steel, had a fire raging behind them.

  Fear surged through her, and she turned away, regretting looking back at him.

  She heard him chuckle.

  “Do you think I’m going to rape you, Serena? You should know better than that.”

  She still couldn’t look at him, for it was not being taken by force she feared.

  “I wouldn’t do that to you,” he continued softly.

  She felt as if he followed up the words with a silent sentence, one that echoed an unformed one in her own head.

  She looked again at him to see if he was indeed still talking to her while choosing to keep the additional words to himself, and it appeared that he was.

  Serena pushed her thoughts away and tried to ignore him, doing her best to clean herself in the face of self-consciousness, grateful for the stop Steven had made earlier that got them soap and other toiletries, and even towels.

  When she was done she stood up tall but stayed in place, her back still to him.

  “Walk backwards,” she heard him say, sounding closer.

  She found herself obeying without question.

  She walked backwards slowly, arms across her chest, hoping she didn’t fall and display everything she’d been trying so hard to hide.

  She kept walking until her back connected with his body. Then she felt a towel wrap around her.

  Her head bowed in gratefulness as she accepted it, holding it around herself.

  “Thank you,” she mumbled as she followed him back to the carrier vehicle.

  As he opened the door for her he said:

  “There’s some new, clean clothes back there for you, too. I tried to guess your size but...” He shrugged.

  She almost threw her arms around him in gratitude.

  She hadn’t even thought of it—didn’t think to take clothes with her when she left her apartment, didn’t think about what she’d put on once clean and leaving the water.

  He left her to her privacy once she was inside, heading back for the driver’s seat.

  Once she had put on the clothes—the T-shirt a little too big, the underwear just right, the pants perfect for her pre-outbreak figure—she realized the vehicle hadn’t moved.

  “Are you asleep up there?” she asked somewhat softly, in case he was.

  He didn’t answer.

  “Hey, Steven,” she said a little louder, “are you all right?”

  “I’m helping us out,” he said, and she wondered what he meant.

  Then she heard him leave the vehicle again.

  “Where are you going?” she asked, but he didn’t answer.

  She waited until he reentered the vehicle.

  Instead of going back to the driver’s seat, he entered the back area and sat opposite her, not looking at her.

  “What was that about?” she asked, trying to read his face as he stared off to the side.

  He heaved a sigh and looked down before looking up at her, arresting her with his eyes.

  “I’ll be real honest,” he said. “I’m having a hard time here.”

  She almost asked what he meant but his meaning suddenly registered, rendering her silent.

  “And listen, I know you’re trying not to want me, but you do. And I know it—which makes everything worse. And sometimes I think we should just get it out of the way.”

  Serena saw no signs of joking.

  She pushed down the ball of fear beginning to rise in her at his boldness and made a derisive sound.

 
“My husband died recently, and you think I’m sitting here, thinking about boning you?”

  “You can deny it all you want, Serena, but for a while now I’ve felt your attraction to me. And now that we’re here alone...”

  He looked like he couldn’t continue and his eyes seemed to ripple with his struggle as they took in her body, then went back to her face, then looked off to the side again.

  Suddenly, the APC felt unbearably small.

  Serena didn’t dare move, fearing she would trigger him to do something she wasn’t sure she was ready for.

  She decided to play along with his train of thought—to engage his brain in conversation had to be safer than sitting there, watching his emotions take over him.

  “So you think ‘getting it out of the way’ would make things easier?”

  “Much easier than thinking about it the majority of the time? Fantasizing every second? Getting caught up in daydreams while those things could spring out of nowhere and sink their teeth into one of us? Yes, yes I do.”

  “And the act of ‘getting it out of the way’ won’t be a distraction itself?”

  He shrugged. “We could do it right here—we’re safe for now.”

  “I think not!” she said forcefully, mustering up as much outrage as she could, unable to play along any further. “Who the hell do you think you are?”

  He closed in on her quickly, and she felt the futility of any verbal protest press upon her as she froze in the face of his sudden nearness.

  “An animal that puts up a fight is far more interesting than a cowering one,” he said, his face inches from hers. “You’re only whetting my appetite for battle, so if you really don’t want me to do it, don’t fight me; I love a fight. You’d lose, and boy would I win.”

  Serena prided herself in not showing fear to anyone, but in that moment it was all she felt, and there was no hiding it. She was unable to speak, and, needing to take in more oxygen, her chest lifted and fell rapidly.

  He seemed to drink in the signs of her fear, smiling as his eyes took in her body again, as if hungry for the emotion like some fear-sucking vampire.

  Then he took a finger and trailed it down her arm, making her shiver uncontrollably, delighted, and unbearably aroused.