I freeze because I don’t know what to tell her. Do I say it was because of my pride? That I can’t appear weak in front of my employees? No, I’d sound like a total prick, even though that’s the truth.
But I can’t come up with any other explanation. The seconds tick away as I run my hand down my face and look the other direction. I blindly grab her hand and run my thumb across her knuckles. Her skin feels amazing and I am immediately distracted by other thoughts.
I force myself back into the here-and-now and decide on the truth. I’m sure as hell not going to mess this up with a lie.
“You did nothing wrong. It was my pride.” I turn to face her and look in her one good eye. She studies me for a second and then nods her head as if she understands.
“The men were giving you a hard time with how you acted towards me.” Her voice is a whisper, and I nod, my only form of communication. It’s a question but she says it like a statement. I look at the floor and feel like such an ass. Because of my pride, my girl got pistol-whipped, and I have a price tag on my head.
“Don’t blame yourself for any of this, Claire. My pride is what did this. My pride is what hurt you.” I run my hand down my face and she squeezes my other hand. We are silent for a minute before I decide to change the subject. “Are you hungry or thirsty? I’ll go get you anything.”
“I’m a little hungry. But I can I eat in your room? I don’t want Sarah to see me.” I tell her yes and walk away to get some food from Sally. Sally helps me make a sandwich, and I carry it back to the room. I set the tray in her lap and turn on the television. There’s nothing on, but I know she can’t read with one eye. She slowly eats her food as I sit beside her, staring blankly at the television.
I realize this is the most we’ve spoken since she’s been here and I’m thankful she’s at least being verbal. The atmosphere around us is more relaxed. I’m not sure if me saving her has anything to do with this, but I think I broke down one of her walls today. Part of me wishes I could put this entire kidnapping thing behind me and pretend it never happened.
The other, selfish part is glad it happened. I never would have gotten to touch or be with Claire if it hadn’t.
I MAKE THE call to take the entire next week off, and I hear the moan from my employees. If they don’t work, they don’t get paid. I understand, but this is my business, and I call the shots. Plus, I have to take care of my girl. I keep Claire’s ice pack full and make sure she ices her face every twenty minutes. The next morning her injuries are worse, and I cringe when I see her face. I remind her the second day is usually worse and after a few tears, she turns her focus back to the television.
After glancing at herself one more time, she decides not to look in the mirror for the rest of the week. I agree and tell her she’s in good hands - mine. I’m shocked when she doesn’t resist.
It’s the second night since the incident, and we lie in bed, the darkness surrounding us. Neither of us speaks, and I’m wondering how badly her face hurts.
“Brandon?” She breaks the silence with my name, and my heart jumps a little. Why do I react this way when she says my name? I hate myself for being this way towards her, yet I also love it.
“Yeah.”
She pauses for a minute as silence once again consumes us. “Thank you for saving me. I don’t think I ever said thank you.”
“Of course.” How can she not think I would save her? Hell, I would track her down to the ends of the earth.
Another minute of silence crosses between us. “Can I ask you another question?”
“Sure.”
“Why were you in my dad’s office that day?”
I run my hand down my face in the dark and ponder telling her the truth. But then I decide why the hell not. I have kidnapped her, after all, and am holding her against her will.
“Your dad has some files I want. Some very important files about my family.”
She pauses and then starts again. “What kind of files?”
I take a deep breath and exhale in the darkness. “Remember at the Cheesecake factory I told you about my brothers?”
“Yeah.” Her voice is soft and angelic.
“They’re ten years younger than I am. We were raised by our grandparents, and I was trouble in high school. Always in fights, bad temper, always hitting things.” I hear her laugh in the darkness and turn my head. “What?” I ask with a slight smile on my face.
“I don’t think much has changed,” she says, and I hear the slight laughter in her voice.
“Maybe not.” I have a smile on my face. Only she could take this serious moment and make me smile. I wait a moment for the laughter to die down before I continue. “My Gramps and Gran died when I turned seventeen. There was no one else to take us and we all three ended up in foster care. I only had one year left, but my brothers were only seven. I vowed when I turned eighteen to fight the courts and gain full custody. I knew I could take care of them better than foster care. I was only in that hellhole for a year, and I didn’t want them to be in the system for the next eleven years.”
She has turned her body to face mine, and through the small streak of moonlight descending through the window, I see her slender arm lying on top of her stomach. I long to touch her, but I don’t. She motions for me to continue.
“A year later, I approached the system to inform them of my adoption plans. It was then I was told that my brother’s foster family wanted to adopt them. I was ecstatic. I really was. My brothers would finally have a home life and probably have more than I could provide them with.
“I asked one simple question that changed my world forever. I asked for the name of the foster family. I thought surely I would be part of my brother’s lives. But the truth was that the foster family had heard about my ‘reputation.’ They heard about my violence and decided to keep the adoption documents sealed. I wouldn’t be allowed to know their new last name or their location.”
I don’t say anything for a while, letting the memories of that day wash over me. I run my hand down my face and release the breath in my aching chest. “And so, I decided to take matters into my own hands. I got a lawyer from the state to represent me. He was terrible, and I was up against this big time lawyer. I was fighting the adoption and everything, trying to bring our family back together, but the big wig lawyer was too tough for me. My lame excuse for a lawyer couldn’t do anything right. I was known for my terrible temper and fits of rage. This big shot lawyer brought all that to the attention of the judge. Showed how I had been expelled for fighting and all the strikes I had against me. My lame lawyer and I were no match for this man.
“He brought all of my dirt to the light and in the end, and I lost control. I went on a rampage through the courtroom, overturning tables and chairs. The judge had enough and sentenced me to thirty days in jail. The courts agreed to keep the documents sealed, insuring I wouldn’t be able to find my brothers or locate the adoptive family. They said they did this for everyone’s safety. I have no idea where they are or where they live. They have a different last name and I don’t know where to start looking. They are seventeen now. When I lost them, I lost everything.”
I finish, and there’s definitely silence between us, the only sound the rising and falling of our chests.
“Is that a picture of your family on your night stand?”
“Yeah. It’s from a long time ago,” I answer, and I’m surprised she even noticed the photo. “I know you think I’m a bad guy, Claire, but a good side of me does exist. I would have taken care of my brothers. I wouldn’t have let anything happen to them. I would have never gotten into this business if I had known I had them looking up to me. But once I lost them, I lost all hope.” I feel exhausted all of a sudden and Claire has yet to speak. Suddenly, she props the good side of her face up with her hand so she’s facing me. The thin strip of moonlight illuminates her slender body from her head to her toes.
“Brandon. Who was the big shot lawyer?”
I don’t answer immedia
tely because I know this is a rhetorical question. She already knows the answer, but I don’t really know how she’ll respond if I actually say the name. The silence encompass us for another full minute before I decide answer her question.
“Your father.”
I hear nothing but silence in the room as Claire processes what I’ve just said.
“My father has the sealed files.”
“I’m assuming so, yes.”
“And that’s why you were in the filing room snooping around, posing as an intern.”
“Yes.”
She’s still turned towards me, and I’m seriously about to run my finger down every inch of her body the moonlight displays. She’s gorgeous and I know I need to put my mind elsewhere. I turn my eyes back to the black ceiling and start to run sports plays in my head.
“Brandon, sealed files are not located in the filing room.”
I sigh because she’s right. I was an idiot to think they would be that easy to discover. “I didn’t know where to start looking. I only wanted to find my brothers. They’re almost legal now, so I won’t try to adopt them or anything, but I don’t even know their new last name. I don’t know where to start looking for them. I thought if I could break into that office, I could find them.”
She places one of her soft hands over mine, and a feeling of peace crawls through my arm. How does this girl calm me like this?
“Tell me about your brothers.” Her voice is smooth like honey and all of a sudden, I desire to tell her everything. I want her to know it all, the good and the bad. And I know this is because she won’t judge me.
“They were an ‘oops,’” I start and smile at the thought. “I was already ten and my parents were done having kids. Then, here my mom is pregnant, and not just with one, but with twins. They brought joy and chaos into our lives, and we were a happy family for a while. I loved my brothers. They were nothing like me. They were smart and made the grades in school. I was always the one joking around and getting into fights. They looked up to me and I protected them.”
“I thought you said you were the studious one? You said you were the one who did the reading with the library books.”
I give a small laugh at the memory and then shock comes over me. “You remember me telling you that story?”
“Yeah.”
I’m happy she remembers, but I’m also mortified. I was such an asshole that day. “I was always a good reader. That was the one thing I was good at, except of course fighting and causing trouble.” I smile and tilt my head in a flirtatious manner at the last part, and I’m rewarded with a small smile from Claire. The moonlight illuminates the room ever so slightly, and she really looks like an angel tonight. What I wouldn’t do to see her smile more. “My brothers were good with everything else: math, science…friendships. Their only wrong was not reading their library books, and that says it all if that was the worst thing they did.”
“What are their names?” she asks, her voice almost a whisper. The mood in the room shifts from light to serious.
“Mark and Luke. My mother was a practicing Catholic, and she named them after the saints.” I feel her tighten her hand around my own and I link my fingers with hers. “My parents died when I was twelve and we were raised by our grandparents. They did the best they could, but they were older. We only spent five years with them before they passed away, too. Those were the years I was in so much trouble. I was mad at God for taking away my parents, and I couldn’t seem to figure anything out. I let the anger take control of me, but I was always good to my grandparents and my brothers. I never would have hurt them, only those who tried to hurt them.”
“When was the last time you saw your brothers?”
“Ten years ago. About a month before I lost access to them in the court hearing.”
She is silent for a while, and we continue to hold hands. This time it’s her running her thumb along my fingers. The constant motion draws me under, and I’m reminded of my own mother soothing me when I was younger. My mother was the only one who knew how to handle me, the only one who could calm me. Claire’s single motion with her thumb is creating the same feelings of peace.
I am floating on my back in a sea of fresh air, looking up at the peaceful scenery. These are my last thoughts as I drift off to sleep.
I OPEN MY eyes to see the sun making its way through the windows. I glance at the clock and see it’s almost seven am. This is when I’m usually crawling into bed. I look over at Claire and see her sleeping peacefully, her face still multiple shades of green. I stare at the ceiling, trying to calm my temper. I don’t know if I killed that gang leader, but I hope I did. I hope he breathed his last that day for touching my girl.
Yes, she’s my girl. Claire might not think or agree with this statement, but she’s mine. As long as I have her here, she belongs to me. No other man will touch her. I wish she would reciprocate; I wish more than anything she felt the same way. It will kill me when she leaves, but I know given the opportunity, she would be out that door and on her way to freedom.
Do I really blame her, though? I brought her here against her will. Nobody wants to be forced. I know this from experience after being forced out of my brothers’ lives. She starts to move, and I climb out of bed to replenish her ice pack. When I return, her eyes are open and she’s looking up at me from the bed. She gives a slight smile and I slide in beside her.
“Got this for you,” I say as I hand her the ice pack. She gently takes the pack and places it on the ugly bruise. No words are spoken, but I can sense the atmosphere between us has changed. Maybe it’s because I bared my heart to her last night, but the exchange of words and looks between us is different this morning. They are more intense.
“Hey, let’s get out of here today.” I really don’t know why I just said this, because it’s not like we can go anywhere, but I really want to be outside the confines of this apartment.
“What do you mean? Like out of the bedroom?” She’s just as confused as I am.
“No.” I think for a minute, trying to gather a plan in my mind. “Like out into the world. We both need some fresh air. Outside of your little escape,” I emphasize the last word with a smile, and she gives a weak one in return, “you haven’t left this apartment or warehouse in almost two weeks.”
“Whose fault is that?” she asks, but I see she’s joking. I rack my brain to figure out where we can go and instantly, I know the perfect place.
“I know a spot we can go. It’s reclusive, and it’s got a great scenic view. I’ll take you there. We can pack a lunch.” I don’t wait for her to respond because I’m not sure if she really wants to hang out with me. But I want to take her someplace nice, and we both need to clear our heads. I head towards the shower and shut the door behind me. I know she won’t try to run away from me again here in the city. She’s learned firsthand exactly how rough this neighborhood is, but I’m not sure how she’ll respond elsewhere.
As the warm water hits my back I try to think of a plan to keep her next to me when we travel outside of the city. I keep coming up blank, and then I realize something very important. This girl has me wrapped around her finger, and if she tries to run away today, I’ll let her because I only want her to have the best.
WE COAST OUT of the alleyway, and the feeling is amazing. We’re in the Beamer, which is a car I actually own, and it has the darkest tinted windows. Sally packed us a lunch. We merge onto I-85 to head out of the city. Our drive will be almost an hour long and in the silence, I wonder if Claire is planning her escape. It’s only been just over twenty-four hours since her attack, but she’s able to slightly open her eye. I glance over and then give her my iPod, which is wired into the stereo system.
“Pick out something for us to listen to.”
She thumbs through the lists and then I hear A-ha’s “Take On Me” blasting through the speakers.
“You like 80s?”
“Yeah, apparently you do, too.”
“There’s something unique about m
usic from the 80s”
We listen to the end of the song before Whitesnake starts to sing “Is this Love?” I glance over at her and smirk. She smiles back, a genuine smile and without thinking, I grab her hand. She doesn’t resist, and I wonder why on earth she would let someone like me touch her.
“I’ve never asked you, how old are you?” I ask, assuming she’s around my age.
“I’m twenty-five.”
“Tell me about your law degree.”
“I did my undergrad at the University of Georgia and then I took two years off and worked for my dad. Then last year, I got accepted into law school, and I’m in my second year.” She pauses for a second and then continues in a quieter voice. “I’m doing an internship this summer at my dad’s office.”
I feel terrible and don’t know what to say. “I’m sorry, Claire.” I pause thinking of my words. “I promise I will make all this up to you. I’m not sure how, but I will.”
“Why can’t you just let me go? Drop me back off at my dad’s office. I won’t say a word.”
“Because it’s not that simple.”
“Why not?” Her voice is soft yet hard. She really doesn’t get it.
“Claire, your dad and Officer Hamilton are on my ass. If I drop you off there, they will question you, trust me, and no amount of lying will save you their interrogation. They’ll find out where I am, and where I’m running all the car thefts. They’ll use you to get to me. I’ll have to use Plan B before I let Sarah and you return.” I don’t mention they can’t go back, that I can’t take that chance.
“What’s Plan B?”
“I haven’t gotten that far,” I say under my breath.
She lets out a sigh and lets go of my hand. An instant feeling of loneliness surges through my body, and I desire her warm hand back in my own. I grab for her hand and give her a slight squeeze. “Baby, I said I would make it up to you and I will. I promise.” I take her hand and kiss the top as I see her relax. I feel as if I have temporarily made up for my sins, even if it is for a small moment in time. We continue to drive down the freeway, while Bon Jovi serenades us to “Livin’ on a Prayer.”
The Thief Redeemer Page 8
