by Julia Sykes
He nodded, frowning. He clearly didn’t appreciate being my errand boy.
“Thanks,” I said with forced politeness. He just stared at me. “Ummm…” I began hesitantly. “Would you mind not watching me while I cook? It makes me really uncomfortable.”
And if you don’t agree, I’m seriously considering knocking you out with a frying pan and making a run for it.
But my other plan was much more elegant and far less risky, so I plastered a genial look on my face.
Bradley said nothing for a moment, considering me.
“For god’s sake, Bradley,” Sean’s voice drifted through the open bedroom door. “Leave the woman in peace.”
Bradley’s brows drew together forbiddingly. “Fine,” he said shortly. “But I’ll be sitting right here, so don’t think you can try anything.” His hand moved to the bulge in his waistband where he kept his gun. I got the message loud and clear.
“Okay,” I replied, trying to keep my voice from shaking. This was going to make my plan far more dangerous than I had anticipated.
But thankfully, Bradley sat down on the couch and flicked on the TV, facing away from me. So long as his eyes stayed glued to the screen and Sean remained in his bedroom, I would be fine.
You can do this, Claudia, I steeled my resolve.
An hour later, the cake was in the oven, and my marinara sauce was coming along nicely. Water, sugar, corn syrup, and cocoa powder were boiling away in a separate pan. I shot a furtive glance in Bradley’s direction, making sure that he wasn’t looking my way.
Now for the tricky part.
I angled my body away from the living room and reached into my bra for the Benadryl. Thank god Bradley had actually bought a mortar and pestle for me. Wasting no time, I quickly ground up the pills to a fine white powder. On its own, it would taste horribly bitter. But the chocolate should mask that.
I poured the powder into the boiling, sugary mixture and then whisked in chunks of semisweet chocolate. When it was dark and smooth, I spooned out a tiny amount and touched it to the tip of my tongue. Perfect. I tried not to look too pleased with myself.
When the cake was ready, I sliced out a piece for myself and set it aside before liberally pouring the sauce over the rest of it.
“Okay,” I called. “It’s ready!”
I could hear Sean stirring from his bed as I plated everything up and set it on the small dining table in the corner of the living room. I tried my best to avoid shooting longing, anticipatory looks at the front door.
To my surprise, Sean chose to sit beside me rather than Bradley. I couldn’t suppress a small flush of pleasure.
Stop that! I ordered myself. Thank god I was getting away soon.
Dinner was awkwardly silent. Things were strange between Sean and me after our almost-kiss this afternoon, and Bradley had nothing to say to me, of course. The only sounds were the scraping of forks, and the occasional appreciative noise from Sean.
When it was time for desert, I couldn’t help licking my lips in anticipation as I served up the chocolate cake.
“The sauce is too sweet for me,” I answered the unspoken question in Sean’s eyes. “But I hope you like it.” I smiled at him sweetly.
“I’m sure I will,” he said with an answering smile. Then he took a huge bite, and I felt a surge of vindictive triumph.
He closed his eyes blissfully as he swallowed. “Oh my god, Claudia, this is amazing. I haven’t had anything this good since my mother last cooked for me.”
“Oh?” I asked, making conversation. “How long has that been?”
The lines of Sean’s face went taut, and he no longer met my eyes. “Two years,” he said quietly. “She died two years ago.”
My heart sank. I had had no idea. I knew the pain of losing a parent, and I hated to see that Sean knew it too. Ignoring Bradley’s furious glare, I spoke to Sean softly. “I’m sorry,” I said sincerely.
Seemingly of its own accord, my hand reached out, finding his beneath the table. I squeezed it gently, reassuringly. His head jerked up, his wide eyes meeting mine. His hand clenched to a fist, his muscles tensing at the contact. But he didn’t pull away. After a moment, he relaxed, and his fingers tentatively closed around mine.
He turned his attention back to the cake, tearing into it with gusto. Guilt washed over me again, but I shoved it back.
I didn’t care about Sean. I didn’t. Or at least, I didn’t care about him as much as I cared about my freedom.
A thought suddenly occurred to me: Would I go to the police when I escaped? I fiercely wanted Bradley to go to jail for what he had done to me, but could I betray Sean?
No. I couldn’t think about that now. I would cross that bridge when I came to it. For now, I needed to stay focused on my immediate goal.
Although he didn’t say anything complimentary – predictably – I was pleased when Bradley polished off two large slices of cake. Unfortunately, Sean stopped at one, seeming to have lost his appetite. I prayed that one slice would be enough.
I volunteered to do the dishes like a good little woman and then meekly returned to Sean’s room. Bradley was sure to lock the door behind me.
I relished the thought of never hearing the sound of that lock clicking closed again.
I sat as far from Sean as humanly possible as we read silently, determined not to be affected by his allure again. I couldn’t help glancing over at him furtively every few minutes, looking for signs of drowsiness. After a while, he began blinking more slowly, yawning more often. Eventually, he rested his open book on his chest as his eyes slid closed.
Hardly breathing, I watched him for a few minutes. “Sean?” I whispered his name softly. No response. “Sean?” I said more loudly. Still, he didn’t stir.
Thank god.
If Sean was this deeply asleep, then Bradley must be out too. Moving carefully so as not to make any noise, I tiptoed to the door. I knelt before it, eyeing the keyhole as I took two pins from my hair. For the first time, I was glad of growing up with the Ames family. I had learned to pick locks so that I could come and go from the house as I pleased, could escape from them just as I was escaping from Sean now.
The click as the lock sprang free seemed to reverberate throughout the room. I winced and looked back at Sean, but mercifully he hadn’t woken at the sound. I stood and grasped the doorknob, turning it achingly slowly. All of my muscles were taut as I eased the door open, slipping out through the smallest crack I could manage. I didn’t dare risk the sound of closing it. Besides, it would be pretty clear to Sean that I was gone when he woke up. Which hopefully wouldn’t be till morning.
I forced myself to walk slowly across the living room. It seemed I wouldn’t be needing the fire escape, after all; I was going to walk right out the front door. I would have given myself a mental pat on the back for so brilliantly executing my plan if it weren’t for the fact that I was scared shitless.
When I was out in the hall, I broke into a run, unable to restrain myself any longer. I punched the button to call the elevator, bouncing on the balls of my feet as I waited for it to arrive. Once inside, it seemed to move achingly slowly as it descended to the parking garage. Unfortunately, Bradley had hidden my purse from me, so I wasn’t going to be able to take my car. I would just have to make it on foot. Hopefully I could hail a cab once I got to the street.
As soon as the doors pinged open, I flung myself from the elevator and ran for the door, throwing it wide as I burst out into the night. I breathed in deeply. The scent of asphalt and gasoline had never smelled so sweet.
I ran through the parking garage. But when I reached the street, I stopped in my tracks as I took in my surroundings. I was in a bad neighborhood. A really bad neighborhood. One where it was definitely not a good idea to go on an evening stroll by oneself, especially not when wearing a low-cut dress.
But there was nothing for it. Steeling my resolve, I stepped out onto the street, walking quickly. I was desperate for a cab, but there wasn’t one in sight. And
I didn’t dare stop a random car; I didn’t want to draw attention to myself. I would just have to get out of here as fast as possible. Staring straight ahead, I focused on my goal in order to keep my fears at bay.
But that was a mistake. That’s why I didn’t see him until it was too late.
A large hand closed around my wrist, jerking me hard to my left. I gasped as I lost my footing, stumbling into the alley. A strong arm was around my waist, pinning my arms to my sides. I opened my mouth to scream, but his hand closed over my mouth, muffling the sound. Panic shot through me as I writhed in his grip, but my struggles were futile.
“I’ll let you scream for me later, whore,” said a low, husky voice in my ear. I was engulfed in the stench of whisky and stale sweat. “No one around here will give a shit. But I want you to be quiet for now. You see, this is my favorite part. The part where you fight. You fight until you come to the singular realization that there is no way you can win. That’s when I get to see the light leave your eyes.”
He released me suddenly, shoving me forward harshly. I caught myself against the wall, the bricks scraping my hands. I used the momentum to shove myself back, turning to run. But he was too close, too strong. He grabbed my shoulder, spinning me around and shoving my back up against the unyielding wall. I tried to scream again, but his hand was back over my mouth.
“Not yet, sweetheart,” he practically cooed. He pressed his body up against mine, and I could feel his growing hardness against my hip. My stomach churned. I was going to be sick.
I shoved at his chest, clawed at his arms, but he just gave me a twisted leer, reveling in my frantic efforts. The shadows obscured his face, but I could see a maniacal gleam in his pale blue eyes. A look that chilled me to the core.
That’s when the cold, horrible realization dawned on me: I was going to have to stop fighting. If he wanted me to fight, then I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. Dropping my arms and forcing my limbs to stillness, I glared at him defiantly.
His leer twisted into a furious snarl. “What do you think you’re playing at, bitch?” He growled, dropping his hand from my mouth.
“Refusing to play your twisted game,” I spat at him.
Pain exploded across my cheek as his hand cracked across my face. I cried out, shocked and suddenly disoriented as my head spun. I blinked hard to clear my vision, only to find myself staring into his eyes. If I had thought Bradley’s eyes cold and inhuman, he was practically warm and friendly compared to this monster. Despite my resolve to show no fear, I felt myself trembling.
“Oh, you’ll play,” he said smugly. “They all do, in the end.”
His wet tongue traced a slimy line up my cheek, and I gagged as bile rose in my throat. His hands were pawing at me, leaving a toxic taint everywhere that they touched. Then they were on my thighs, easing slowly up my dress.
I couldn’t help it; I started fighting again, my nails shooting out like claws to gouge his eyes out. He just smiled as he caught my wrists easily, pinning them to the wall on either side of my head.
“See,” he whispered. “I told you that you would play.”
A scream was ripped from my throat, crying out my fury, frustration, and terror into the uncaring night.
Chapter 6
Hot tears were forming in my eyes as my body instinctively struggled against my attacker. He held my arms above my head, one of his hands easily encircling my small wrists. His other hand was touching me again, trailing slowly down my throat before tracing a line down my sternum, stopping at the top of my cleavage.
He smiled down at me, his eyes devoid of any shred of humanity. I knew what he was going to do, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. I jerked desperately against his grip.
“Please,” I begged, by voice ragged as I forced it through the tightness in my throat. “Don’t.”
His smile twisted into a horrible, rictus grin as he gripped my breast hard, squeezing painfully.
The tears spilled down my cheeks and I let out a despairing sob. I hated myself in that moment, hated myself for giving in, for showing weakness to this man who wanted nothing but to break me. But he was right: I couldn’t help but play his game. And I hated myself all the more for proving him right even as I tried to kick at his shins. But he was too close for me to get any momentum, and my efforts were fruitless.
A furious roar echoed through the alleyway, filling the cramped space. My attacker was torn away from me as something hit him hard from the side, knocking him to the ground. Someone was atop him immediately, driving his fist downward. There was a sickening crunch as it made contact with the man’s face. He gave a pitiful cry, but the man assaulting him didn’t stop. He pummeled him once, twice more, until my attacker was making sick, gurgling sounds as he gasped for breath.
The man pushed himself up off of him, pulling out a gun as he did so. He aimed it directly at my attacker’s heart. There was a loud click as he cocked the gun, and for a moment, I hoped that he would fire it.
“Get out of here,” he growled, his voice low and dangerous. “If I ever see you in this neighborhood again, I won’t hesitate to kill you. Understand?”
The bloody man nodded jerkily as he forced himself upright, clinging to the wall for support as he pulled himself out of the alleyway, clearly desperate to get away. He shot one last look at me, pure hatred filling his eyes. I shuddered and dropped my gaze, unable to look at him any longer. Instead, I turned my eyes on my savior.
Sean’s expression was furious, and I trembled in the wake of his glare. Or maybe that was just the residual shock of what had happened to me. Whatever it was, it was too much for me to handle. My shaking knees gave way beneath me, and I could see the ground rushing up at me.
But I never felt the impact. Instead, a pair of strong arms caught me, lifting me up to cradle me against a hard chest. Panic spiked through me at the feeling of being restrained, and a small, strangled cry escaped me as I writhed in his grip.
His large hand stroked my arm soothingly. “Shhh, Claudia. It’s just me,” he said, his tone low and reassuring. “You’re safe now.”
Safe.
I buried my head in his chest, breathing in his now-familiar scent. I didn’t even realize that my hands fisted in his t-shirt, clinging to him like a lifeline as my tears soaked it through. Blindly, I allowed him to carry me. I didn’t care where we were going, so long as it was away from that alleyway.
Sean murmured reassuringly at me in a soft, soothing tone as I cried silently in his arms. Although his words were sweet, I could feel his muscles corded around me, his whole body tense. Was it from the effort of carrying me, or was it something else?
I peeked up at him through my lashes. He wasn’t looking at me. Instead, he stared straight ahead, tight lines around his eyes and mouth as though he was under some sort of strain. Was he angry with me?
He shifted me in his grip, and a door swung open. My stomach dropped as I realized that we were going back into his apartment building.
I stared up at him pleadingly. “Please, Sean,” I begged raggedly. “I just want to go home.”
The lines of his face only deepened, and still he refused to look at me. When he spoke, his voice was tight with suppressed anger. “I can’t take you home, Claudia.” Then he added, more softly. “I’m sorry.”
Tears continued to slide down my face as I closed my eyes, unwilling to look at him any longer. How was it that I could feel such gratitude towards him and such hatred at the same time?
After a few minutes, a bright light filtered through my closed eyelids, and I instinctively blinked. Sean’s face swam into view, an odd expression etched across it. There was concern, compassion, relief, and… fear? And anger. Definitely anger.
I dropped my eyes so that I no longer had to face his burning gaze. That’s when I noticed the red spray dotted across his white t-shirt: my attacker’s blood. My stomach twisted at the memory of Sean’s violence even as I couldn’t help but feel gratitude.
But there was a bigge
r red splotch on his shoulder, one that was slowly growing larger.
“Sean, you’re hurt,” I said, distracted from my thoughts by the sight of his injury. His gunshot wound must have broken open. “Put me down,” I insisted, sounding more like myself.
He looked at me skeptically. “Can you stand on your own?” He asked, leveling me with a hard look that dared me to lie to him.
I rolled my eyes at him. “Of course I can,” I said. “I’m not the one who’s hurt.”
His face darkened, the anger overriding all other emotions. His movements were carefully controlled as he set me down on my feet, his muscles straining again. I recognized it now for what it was: repressed rage.
“You’re not hurt?” He demanded harshly. He grabbed my shoulders and spun me around so that my back was to him. I was staring at my reflection in the mirror; he had brought me into the bathroom.
My eyes were wide, a wild light in them; my hair was a tangled mess; and there was the shadow of a bruise appearing on my right cheekbone where my assailant had backhanded me.
“Oh,” I said softly.
“Oh?” He said incredulously. “Is that all you have to say? What were you thinking? Do you have any idea…?”
He trailed off, his eyes clouding over.
I rounded on him, my anger rising to match his. “What other choice did you give me?” I hissed. “Did you just expect me to stay here like a good girl? To allow you to keep me as your pet forever?”
His hand clenched to a fist, and a muscle in his jaw ticked as he gritted his teeth together. “I don’t have a choice here, Claudia,” he ground out.
“Yes, you do!” I insisted, my voice accusatory. “And you’re making the wrong one!”
The tears were back, hot and angry this time. I swiped them away, then winced as my knuckles ran across my injured cheek. His fingers encircled my wrist, pulling my hand away from my face. I looked up at him, startled by the shock of his touch. The feeling of him holding me, his long fingers trapping my wrist as effectively as a manacle, made something quiver inside of me. His expression had softened, and the furious blaze in his eyes had given way to that darker flame again. It seemed to burn into me, the heat of it cutting to my core, awakening an answering warmth within my chest. And between my thighs.
