Steal Me (Longshadows Book 1)

by Natalia Banks

  This is not it; I’m pretty sure.

  Ear to the wall, zeroing in on the secrets of strangers?

  No way. I’m fucking psycho or something.

  “Were you planning on snatching her again?” he asks, his voice so low and controlled the tiny hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I shiver, wondering what the hell is going on. Every second that ticks by makes this whole scenario seem more and more off.

  I mean, maybe they’re rehearsing for a play. Maybe they’re method actors. Maybe it’s a social experiment. Maybe I’m some nosy bitch who needs to get the fuck out of the hotel room and get some fresh air or see the sun to verify its actual existence.

  “Why were you calling his work every day?” Connor - as Cami called him – sounds fucking scary.

  I hear her make a noise, like a refusal to answer, but Connor doesn’t seem to be feeling too patient. “Were you trying to threaten him?” He asks and she must have shaken her head because he responds with tightly controlled anger that’s more frightening than someone losing their temper. “Why then, Cami?”

  The vision of the man forms in my head. He’s tall, I established that. Older, like Kurt Russell, and just as menacing. And maybe just as good looking. Slim… no, scratch that. He’s buff. All brawny and terrifying like Arnold. Wait, no, that’s too far. Somewhere between Arnie and that dude who plays Thor, what’s his name…

  Chris Hemsworth! I think. Is it?

  I puzzle over my pop culture references and listen with half my attention. Whoever the dude is, he’s clearly intent on getting information. And I’m going to sit here on the other side of the wall we share and just listen to my very own, real life soap opera.

  Damn, I wish I had popcorn. That would make this all better. Except, I bet they’d hear me crunching on it and I might ruin their improv routine.

  My fingers tangle in my hair and I quickly braid the mass of waves that hang to the middle of my back. Not that I’m going anywhere, I don’t need to pretty-up. I’m not even really wearing make-up; just that minimal amount I need to feel human. You know, that little bit that means you don’t have to cringe when you walk by a mirror.

  Because that shit sucks.

  I press my ear to the wall again. They’ve gotten pretty quiet. I wonder what I’m missing. Then the man talks and the very calm, very matter of fact words send an icy shiver down my spine. “I’m not letting you go until you tell me what I want to know.”

  Chapter 2

  Connor

  I sit, sipping smooth scotch as I stare at Cami. She’s trembling, terrified, perhaps hating me with every fiber of her being, I’m sure. Good. Let her fear and hate me. Those emotions will stop her from doing something stupid.

  Like running.

  Like fighting.

  Like calling for help.

  What should I do with her? I’m here, holding the bag as always. I’m forever cleaning up after Kieran’s messy mistakes.

  But I’ll clean up his messes. Like I always have.

  He should be the one questioning her right now. He should be the one fixing this. He should have hunted her down, should have cornered her, threatened her; he should have secured his safety. And the safety of my niece, Olivia.

  Cami already took Olivia once. She almost killed her that time. Does he really need it to happen again before he takes her seriously?

  I glance at her, seeing how she’s cowering in her chair like I’m going to stoop to the level of hitting her. Son of a bitch, I don’t hit women. I’m many brands of monster, but a woman beater isn’t one of them. I draw the line at intimidation.

  And true to form, I walk over and place both hands on either side of the back of her chair. Leaning down, I push my face near hers, leaving only inches between us. Deep in her dark blue eyes, I see anger, resentment, and the one I cherish; fear.

  “Cami,” I say her name to make sure she’s paying full attention to me and every word that comes out of my mouth. I need her to know how serious this is. Her eyes are locked on mine and she’s hardly breathing.

  I’d say she’s paying attention.

  “I need you to tell my why you were following Olivia.” I say and her eyes begin to tear up like I’ve asked an impossible question. One she can’t possibly answer. Her eyes jolt to my arms as my fists lock on the chair and she sees the flex tighten every inch of my upper body.

  “She’s my daughter, Connor. I just wanted to see her.” Her tears are flowing freely now and she’s staring at me as if she expects me of all people to get it. After the unforgivable shit she’s done, she better feel lucky I’ve got a no woman beating rule.

  But there’s more information I need from her. Information that’ll keep me from sleeping. Information that has kept me from sleeping since she came back into our lives like a demolition derby champion intent on wrecking every last rig again.

  I clench my jaw to keep my emotions in check. And she seems to not only see that, but correctly interpret it as well.

  I ask her in a voice manufactured by tempered steel and control. “Were you planning on snatching her again?”

  I stare her down again, silently warning her that I’ll know if she lies to me. And I won’t be so forgiving if she lies. No, a lie is a threat of harm and I’ll treat her accordingly.

  Her lower lip drops and I see a flash of the beautiful woman Kieran had fallen in love with. But years of substance abuse and neglect have stripped her of all but the framework of someone who clearly used to be pretty. It’s both sad and fitting, really. All beauty eventually fades, it’s the nature of the game. And it’s the reason I prefer substance over looks. Brains over beauty.

  But she is slowly shaking her head as if the thought of snatching Olivia had never even crossed her mind. And the shock in the very depths of her eyes leaves me believing it. After all, snatching Olivia before had been something she did while wasted on whatever drug she’d been indulging in at the time, and likely a generous helping of alcohol as well.

  I lean a bit closer as I’ve drifted back a few inches to give her the impression I’m letting up and she can let her guard down. Once more, her eyes slash back and forth between mine and I know she’s got all attention on me.

  Good.

  “Why were you calling his work every day?” I ask, needing to know what she was thinking. It was clearly a power play. A way to fuck with his head, to silently threaten him, to let him know she was there and had no plans of leaving.

  But it didn’t work.

  Because Kieran is a fucking idiot. He thinks a single body guard on his daughter was enough to keep her safe from a dangerous, violent criminal with a history of snatching the girl right out from under his nose.

  Cami doesn’t answer. Instead, she squeezes her eyes closed, forcing the tears in them to flow down her cheeks.

  I give her chair a little shake, enough to jolt her but not unseat her. Enough to scare her. Enough to persuade her to answer me. Even if that answer is a squeak of denial as she shakes her head no with so much force, I’m sure it aches in her neck.

  “Were you trying to threaten him?” I ask. It seems like the only reason. I mean, there’s no sane reason to stalk someone like that, so I’m still arguing details with a nut job, but I have to go with what I know.

  She shakes her head, finally opening her eyes to look up at me. With several fast blinks, she clears the tears from her eyes.

  I don’t feel bad for her. “Why then, Cami?” I ask, all my hate and anger threatening her with a lower growl in my words. I know she hears it. Every muscle in her body tightens up like I’m hurting her. And maybe I am. Maybe without even touching her, I’m subjecting her to as much torture as she’s inflicted on my damn family for the better part of the last decade.

  But she stays silent. With wide eyes, she stares me down, no give in her expression. Which is unfortunate for her. Because she’s in for a nasty surprise.

  One I’m ready to deliver.

  “I’m not letting you go until you tell me what I want to know.�
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  Chapter 3

  Jane

  Wait, does that mean what I think it means?

  I’m not letting you go until you tell me what I want to know.

  Did our dreamy man stud with the killer voice kidnap this girl? This woman, I mean, who was stalking her own daughter – estranged daughter? Is that the right term? I think it is.

  Wait, I’m lost. So mom was stalking daughter. Daughter she already “snatched,” according to sexy voice man hunk, at some point. She was also calling someone mentioned only as him.

  Calling his work every day.

  Trying to threaten him.

  Who is this mystery man? I wonder. Is he the baby daddy? It would make sense. But why then is our hunky dream voice man the one cornering her? Was he hired by baby daddy to do the dirty work here? Or does he have some deeper vested interest in all of this?

  And is he holding her hostage here?

  Struggling with my internal sense of right and wrong, I press my ear to the wall again.

  “Start talking, Cami,” He says, the silent threat in his voice so obvious, I wonder what he’ll do to her if she doesn’t do as he tells her. Would he hurt her? If he would, wouldn’t he have done it already?

  It’s not like she’s been exactly forthcoming with information.

  “What do you want me to say?” She asks and I want to slap her upside the head. Duh. He told you what he wants. He wants you to set his mind at ease. He wants to know that the people he’s talking about are safe.

  Oooh, maybe they’re his family! That could be why he’s so desperate for information. Geez, I’m glad he’s mad at her and not me. I’d be peeing my pants right now if I was in her seat. How terrifying must it be to be before such an angry man intent on getting information about his family?

  Then again, he might be a hired goon. The family angle fits too conveniently. It’s like some damn novel and I’m caught hook, line and sinker.

  And I still wish I had popcorn. Though I bet the crunching would make it impossible to hear anything.

  “The truth, Cami,” The guy says, his anger growing in volume and intensity. I jolt a little, feeling the same shock I’d feel if someone yelled, even though he’s not being very loud at all. How does he do that? With little volume he manages to elicit the same fear I feel when someone screams in my face.

  Damn.

  “I just wanted to see her, Connor!” She says, her tone pleading as she begins crying again. I find myself wondering why she’s not screaming for help. This is too weird. If she was actually kidnapped, wouldn’t she call out for help? It’s got to be an improve thing.

  “That’s my daughter,” she says, her voice straining and breaking with her obvious pain. “She doesn’t even know me. I just wanted to see her.” She dissolves into tears and I’m sure it’s method acting. It’s got to be. Maybe they’re some indie artists creating the next Sundance blockbuster.

  Still, the story is too spectacular. This kind of thing doesn’t happen in real life. Women don’t lose custody of their kids, steal them away in the middle of the night, and answer to the voice of god in a hotel room with tissue thin walls.

  It’s got to be something else.

  “There’s more to it,” He says and I close my eyes, loving how his voice flows over me like honey. Damn. He’s got to be an actor. At least a voice actor. Damn. Too yummy.

  Though, I have to wonder if I’m also enjoying this position of power he’s got himself in. My ex was not at all the kind of guy who actually held power. He tried, but a lot can be said about he who tried.

  Tried can lead to failed. Hell, I think it does more often than not.

  With my ear pressed to the wall, I can hear Connor’s anger rising. He’s starting to get quieter. The edge of his voice is growing sharper, more dangerous by the word. “That’s not good enough,” he says, his voice like honeyed perfection. I shiver, loving the depth of it, the hum that’s deep in his throat as he speaks such dangerous words.

  Damn. Maybe I’d like to be in her place right now. This is weirdly sexy.

  “I don’t know what you want me to say!” She says, her voice angry as she lashes out for the first time. But it’s a quiet anger, a gentle lash. She’s aware of her noise level, she’s keeping it to a respectful minimum. Not something someone would do if they were really in trouble. And it makes it obvious he’s not controlling her volume. She could scream and he’d clearly not do anything to stop it.

  Right?

  “Were you going to try to take Olivia again?” He snarls, and I feel that tickle of pure pleasure down my spine again. Damn it, this is oddly stimulating. What is with his voice? Maybe he’s using something to make it weird. Some kid of voice altering device. Something that gives his voice impossible layers of depth and power.

  Or I’m just fucking losing it and getting wet over the voice of a stranger who might be a serial killer. Or a kidnapper. Or a method actor. Eww. It’s hard to tell which of those is worse. Or not. Method acting by a mile. I only knew one serious method actor, and he was the kind of weird you don’t associate with if you’ve got a vagina.

  Clearly, I’m not the only one who got that memo. Facebook has officially declared him a virgin for life. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. I mean, it’s less hassle and heartbreak. Or so I hear.

  Chapter 4

  Connor

  “There’s more to it,” I Say, hating that she’s trying to be sneaky. Sure, I know that there’s more to it. I know that it’s not so simple, so sweet and unassuming as she’s trying to pretend it is. People don’t do things without ulterior motives.

  She had a reason for everything she did. Otherwise she wouldn’t have done it. It’s as simple as that. So if she’s not giving me the reason, she’s not giving me what I need.

  And while I’m patient, I’m ready to move this along a bit more. I’ll push and see if she cracks. Upping the fear she feels is a risky move; she might shut down. But if she breaks, I’ll get what I need, I’m sure of it.

  “I swear I don’t know what you want,” she whimpers, so softly I have to strain to hear her.

  I’m not accepting such a weak response. She needs to know that. “That’s not good enough,” I say, backing off a step to give her some air. I’ll get back in her face next time she tries to feed me a line of bullshit like I’m some stupid asshole who’s never actually dealt with people before.

  She snaps. A little bit. Not all the way. Not in a helpful way. It’s a loss and a win, I guess. “I don’t know what you want me to say!” she says, her anger apparent in her voice as she speaks, but she’s careful to be quiet as I warned her to be.

  I don’t need the cops knocking on the door. It took a lot to make sure she was under my thumb. I’ve got enough dirt on her I doubt she’d ever try to cross me. And further than that, if she fucks with me, I can make sure she really never sees Olivia again. I’ll do anything to protect my niece.

  Anything.

  And if that means being a monster, I’ll do it. And gladly.

  “Were you going to try to take Olivia again?” I ask, my voice a growl deep in my throat. I’m in her face again, my arms flexed as I grip the chair so hard I’m seconds from splintering it into toothpicks. I need to know what she’s planning, damn it.

  I need a good night’s sleep knowing I’m not going to be woken up to a phone call that Olivia is gone. I don’t want to agonize with my family until we get the call that she didn’t survive it this time.

  Because she almost didn’t survive it last time.

  “You almost killed her,” I remind Cami with my darkest tone. “You wrecked the fucking car because you were blitzed out of your fucking mind. You almost killed her.”

  She’s crying now and I’m so fired up I feel rage surging in my blood. I remember Olivia in the hospital. I remember the pain, the broken expressions. I remember how shattered everyone was. The thought of losing her was nearly enough to kill my mother. It wrecked Kieran.

  And Cami? She got off wi
th a slap on the wrist and a court order to join some recovery programs.

  For almost killing a child.

  If that isn’t a punishment that doesn’t fit the crime, I don’t know what is.

  “I know,” She whimpers. “I live with that every day. That’s why I’m trying to tell you, I just wanted to see her.” She looks up at me, her face wet with tears. “She dies in my dreams. She dies,” She says, her shattered voice failing her part of the way through.

  I’m the last person in the world who might pity her. “Good,” I snarl, “let her go, then. She’s dead to you. Walk away.”

  “I can’t,” Cami says, her head hanging like a rose from a broken stem.

  “You can,” I tell her, keeping my voice strong. I’m still angry. I want to know why. I need answers. “And you can tell me why.” The wooden back of the char fractures under the force of my hands and she jolts, terror written into her face.

  She should be scared.

  “I don’t know!” She cries out.

  “Bullshit,” I say, tired of her games. “Were you going to try to take her again?” That’s the thing I need to know. I need her to tell me. I need to hear her say it so I can figure out if she’s lying. But I need her to deny it or agree. One or the other, so I can see her eyes, see if she’s lying.

  But she’s looking away, down at her lap, at her hands, at her clean nails. And I take stock for a second. I’m attempting to put logic to the actions of a drug-addled mind. Maybe I have my answer. But still, I want to hear her say it. And her refusal to cooperate is making me mad.

  Her silence hangs between us like a cloud. I drop the chunk of wood that broke free to the ground with a satisfying thud. Her wince is also more satisfying than I’d like to admit. I don’t get off torturing people. But then again, I’m not sure Cami is actually a person.

  No, she’s a monster that very much manages to be worse than I am even at my very worst. I’d never hurt a helpless child.