Taken

by Jennifer Dawson

  He presses his body against mine, full and flush. “You, your family, the deal between our fathers, it needs to happen.”

  “Winston,” I say, my voice calm and steady, betraying none of the panic bouncing around inside me. “If the deal makes enough money, our fathers will go through with it, with or without us.”

  He shakes his head, and starts squeezing my upper arms, until I gasp in pain. “You don’t understand, this is my last chance. He’s going to cut me off if I don’t marry you like I’m supposed to.”

  “You’re hurting me.” I clench my teeth against the pain. “Please, stop, you’re hurting me.”

  He squeezes tighter. “You have to listen. Just do this for me, and we’ll be even.”

  I have no idea what he’s talking about and my baser, survival instincts shift into high gear, blocking out strategy and logic, and replacing it with an uncontrollable desire to fight my way out of this.

  I kick him in the shins.

  He stands back and punches me in the stomach. Pain explodes, and all the air leaves my body.

  “Listen to me, you little bitch. I’m not losing everything because of you.” He smacks me across the face again.

  I can’t process how this is happening. All I can do is think about the pain.

  The door is suddenly thrust open and I tumble out into the hallway, falling to a heap on the floor. I blink, and see Brandon’s face for a split second, before he lunges at Winston.

  I try and speak, but Winston has split my lip and the words are nothing but a muffled cry as madness breaks out.

  Brandon tackles Winston to the floor and starts pummeling his face with flying fists. I struggle to sit up, wincing at the pain in my stomach before I manage to right myself.

  I yell, “Brandon! Please stop.”

  But he’s beyond hearing. He smashes his fist into Winston’s nose and the crack of bone crunches through the air. “Don’t ever fucking touch her again, do you hear me?”

  Another smashing blow to Winston’s jaw.

  I begin to cry. I scream, “Brandon!”

  Suddenly, he’s lifted off Winston, his arms still flying through the air as he attempts to release himself from the hold.

  I stumble to my feet and step in front of his vision. His gaze snaps onto mine and twists with rage. He snarls, “He hit you.”

  I swallow through my tears. “I’m okay, I’m fine. I promise.”

  He jerks his attention back to Winston, who’s been pulled from the floor. Brandon growls, low in his throat. “You’re a fucking dead man.”

  “Brandon, please,” I whisper.

  Uniformed security rushes in, and then everything is a mess of chaos and yelling and activity that blurs my vision, until the cuffs snap over Brandon’s wrists.

  I pull at the officer. “Wait, no, he was protecting me. Winston grabbed me and hit me.”

  The officer nods. “You can come down to the station and give your statement, but we have to bring them both in.”

  “But he did nothing wrong.” I’m pleading now.

  Brandon’s jaw is tight and he nods. “Veronica, it’s okay. Call Michael and Leo and they’ll take care of it.”

  “Okay.” My mom comes up behind me and wraps a silky shawl around my shoulders and hugs me tight. I turn to her. “Please don’t let them take him.”

  “We’ll get it taken care of,” my mom says, her expression more worried than I’d ever seen it.

  Brandon’s eyes lock on mine. “Don’t worry, this will be over before you know it.”

  The officers turn him from me, and he’s taken away.

  The crowd parts, and all I can see is his broad shoulders. Ones I’ve cried on and have held me. And in that moment I know.

  Know he’s it for me.

  Know exactly what our life is supposed to look like together.

  “I love him,” I say out loud.

  My mom squeezes me. “I know.”

  The entire world shifts into crystal-clear focus. “I’ve got to make calls, I’ve got to take care of him.”

  My father appears before me. “Veronica, your face. We should take you to the hospital.”

  I shake my head. “No, I need to get to Brandon. He’s the only one that matters.”

  But they whisk me away, separating me from the man I love. The man that needs me now more than anything.

  22

  Brandon

  I rub my weary eyes with my thumb and forefinger as I sit on the cold hard bench that lines the holding cell I’ve been stuck in for over an hour. My mind flashes back to the blinding rage I’d experienced at the sight of Veronica’s beautiful face, bruised by Winston’s hand.

  My stomach rolls, thinking of the marks I’d made on her, and they mix together in my head, tangling until they mesh and I feel as much a monster as Winston.

  He’d hurt her.

  He’d laid his hands on her and marred her skin.

  I’d gone crazy. In that moment, when my head had been nothing but a buzz of white noise and I could think of nothing but killing him for daring to touch her, I’d learned two things about myself.

  The boy I’d been—impulsive, destructive and out of control—capable of violence, he still lived inside me. Hidden and lurking, just waiting for the right circumstances to rear his ugly head.

  And I was in love with Veronica.

  Somehow, someway, I’d fallen so completely, so irrevocably, I didn’t have the first clue how to fight my way out. She’d taken ahold of me, holding me tight in her grip, refusing to let go.

  There was the click of the door, the metallic unlocking.

  Elbows on my knees, I look up to see Michael and Leo standing there. They both are wearing jeans and black shirts, badges hanging around their necks, arms crossed, that fucking cop expression on their faces.

  They look more than partners, with their matching grim-lined mouths and hard eyes, although I suppose they are now. They’re family. Brothers in every way but blood.

  Michael shakes his head. “You couldn’t fucking listen, could you?”

  There’s a loud noise, and then the bars slide open.

  Leo sighs. “We warned you.”

  From my seat, I glare at them and hold out my hands. “Did you see what he did to her face?”

  They nod, their jaws hardening.

  Michael says, “Yeah. She gave a complete statement.”

  I shake with rage. “He hurt her. I couldn’t let him hurt her.”

  To my horror, my throat tightens and my eyes fill with an unfamiliar burn.

  My two best friends come and sit down on either side of me.

  Leo pats me on the back. “Yeah, I know.”

  Michael shrugs one big shoulder. “Love can make you crazy.”

  I don’t even deny it. I can’t.

  Leo clears his throat. “Bishop’s in the hospital, you broke his nose and jaw.”

  “He’s already talking about suing you,” Michael says.

  “I don’t give a fuck. It was worth it.” My hands clench, and I can feel the blood thirst running fast in my veins, wishing I’d had time to do more. A legal battle will be inconvenient, but I have more money than god and I’ll win in the end. Of course, only the lawyers will get rich, but fuck ’em.

  Leo nudges me. “As cops, we have to say you should know better, but as your friend, good job.”

  “Can I go home? I need to find Veronica.”

  “We’re getting you released on your own recognizance.” Michael nods. “We’re just waiting on the paperwork.”

  “Everyone is waiting outside for you,” Leo says.

  Veronica, is all I can think about. I need to make sure she’s all right, that she’s not suffering. “Where is Veronica? We need to protect her.”

  Michael frowns. “Her parents took her to the hospital to have her checked over, and then she’ll be here.”

  This panic, it’s clawing at me. “What if Bishop gets to her? What if he takes her and I can’t find her again?”

  �
�He’s in the hospital and under guard.” Leo’s voice is like steel. “He’s not getting to her.”

  The events of the night rush over me, making me break out in a sweat. How I’d felt uneasy when she hadn’t returned in a normal time, how the unease turned into desperation when I’d been unable to locate her. The dread crawling over my skin as I’d searched.

  But most of all, how I’d felt powerless.

  I was in love with Veronica.

  All these years, I’d been right to stay away from emotional entanglements. It made me as weak and helpless as I’d always feared.

  My teeth ache from clenching them too tight, from repressing emotions that want to spill over and seep across the path in front of me. I shake my head and, fingers laced hard enough my knuckles hurt, I croak out, “I can’t do this.”

  There’s silence from these two men who know me better than anyone.

  My shoulders bunch, waiting for a response, not sure what I’m hoping they’ll say.

  Leo speaks first. “Yeah you can.”

  “I can’t. It’s awful.”

  “You just don’t like feeling helpless, we get it.” Leo’s tone is so calm, so steady, and it makes me want to punch him.

  I think back to the turmoil of his relationship with Jillian, how cool I’d been. How foolish and naïve. “She makes me weak.”

  Michael laughs. “You’re looking at it all wrong.”

  “You don’t understand.” My voice rises and even I can hear the strained panic, matching the stutter of my beating heart. I remember the last time my heart beat like this. I’d been coked up for thirty-six hours, staring out the window knowing my life had to change.

  “We do,” Leo says.

  “She’ll make you stronger if you let her.” Michael states this like it’s easy, and for him it is. That’s the kind of man he is, strong and unwavering. He’d stood down all Layla’s demons and hadn’t even blinked.

  I shake my head again. I can’t articulate my turmoil. How I felt when I looked down at her, crumpled at my feet, face bruised because I’d been stupid enough to let her out of my sight. I’d failed her. My first true test, and I’d failed.

  “Don’t do it, Brandon.” Leo punches me hard in the biceps. “I can see where you’re going, and trust me, you’ll regret it.”

  “He’s right,” Michael says softly. “You don’t have to take this route. You can choose to go another way.”

  I don’t know how to be like them. I was raised with privilege. Everything in my entire life has been handed to me on a silver platter. I’ve never had to work for anything. Even this small empire I’ve been quietly building for all these years, it’s only afforded to me because of my station in life. Because of my trust fund, my name, my connections.

  It has nothing to do with me.

  I’m not like Michael and Leo, who’d both been raised by self-made men and women. They’d grown up being taught the value of work, of perseverance, and morality.

  I run my hands through my hair. “When are we going to get out of here?”

  Leo and Michael silently look at each other, an entire conversation passing between them without words. Finally, Michael nods and gets up. “I’ll go check.”

  When he’s gone, Leo sighs. “I warned you, remember. I told you that you were going to panic.”

  “I remember.”

  “You’re in the thick of it now. But you have a choice, don’t be stupid, don’t risk her because you don’t always get another chance.”

  I scrub my hand over my jaw. “She deserves better than me.”

  Leo laughs. “So what?”

  I frown. “Isn’t that what love is, letting someone go to find someone better for them? Being selfless?”

  “Fuck no.”

  I glance at him and he grins at me. “Don’t be an idiot, we’re all selfish pricks when it comes to love. Because the truth is, we never really know. There are no guarantees. Jillian could have married some rich investment banker that lavished her with all the things she deserves. She could live in a penthouse overlooking the lake, and her husband could give her the connections to make her art career thrive.”

  His jaw ticks a bit, probably at the idea of Jillian with another man, but then he gets back on track. “If I were selfless, I would have let her go that night she confronted me at Michael’s birthday, but I wasn’t. Now she’s married to me, a cop. With the way things are going, she’ll out earn me within the next year or two. I wanted her and I took her because I didn’t want anyone else to have her. Big fucking deal. I work my ass off to keep her happy and entertained. I work to make sure she never regrets the things she’s given up for me. That’s all I can do, because in the end, I’m selfish and I’m not giving her up.”

  What he’s saying makes an odd sort of sense, but it doesn’t appease me. Doesn’t quell the panic rushing through my veins at warp speed the way I know he’s hoping.

  He crosses his arms and continues. “You think Michael isn’t selfish too? Because he sure as fuck is. You think he doesn’t know that every time he leaves the house Layla worries at least once if he’s going to come back home. You don’t think he knows what he does for a living is Layla’s worst nightmare?”

  I swallow, I hadn’t thought of it that way.

  “If he were selfless, he’d quit for her, right? But he can’t and it kills him a little bit that he can’t do it for her. Every day they face each other knowing he might put her into a situation where she’s forced to live that nightmare all over again. She loves him anyway because safe doesn’t necessarily mean happiness. Not for women like Jillian and Layla, not for women like Veronica.”

  I nod. I’m done with the lecture. I have nothing to say but my mind tumbles with chaotic, destructive thoughts I can’t control.

  Leo falls silent, seeming to understand his words fall on deaf ears, but he doesn’t make any move to leave.

  Instead we sit like that, for how long I have no idea, but finally the door buzzes and Michael walks in with a uniformed officer.

  He glances at Leo before looking at me. “You’re good to go.”

  I stand up, grab my tux jacket, and nod. Even though I’m walking to freedom the click of the doors make me feel like I’m being led to a death sentence.

  With Leo, Michael and the uniform in front of me, I walk down a hall and through a door. As we walk into the station, bustling with activity, I see them all there.

  Jillian, Layla, Ruby and Chad. I blink. My parents are there, my dad looking gruff and disgruntled, my mom looking worried.

  The crowd parts and there stands Veronica. Flanked by her parents, that barely register at the sight of her.

  She’s still long and lean in her black dress. Still beautiful and heartbreaking.

  Our eyes lock.

  Her hair is a mess, and when I take in her split lip and bruised jaw I want to kill Winston Bishop all over again. I walk over to her, and gently slip my hand around her neck. I rub my thumb over her lip, careful not to hurt her. “Are you okay?”

  She clutches at my forearm. “I’m just bruised, I’ll be fine, I promise.”

  I nod, not quite able to believe it. “The doctors?”

  “They wouldn’t have let me leave the hospital if I wasn’t okay.”

  I don’t feel relief. I feel nothing but raging, impotent panic. I slide my hand down her arm and circle her wrist. “Come with me.”

  “Where are we going?”

  I look into her honeyed gaze and shake my head. “I have no idea.”

  She blinks up at me. “Are you okay?”

  “No, I’m not.”

  She licks her lower lip, and when she winces, the anger beats at my chest, calmed only when she nods. “I’ll follow you anywhere, Brandon.”

  I take her hand, and turn, walking out of the station without a word to my friends or family. I don’t know where I’m going, or what I’m doing, or exactly what’s happening to me.

  All I know is I have to get out of here, and she has to go with me.
/>
  I’ll figure it out as I go.

  23

  Veronica

  We’re flying at thirty-five thousand feet, in a private plane, on our way to the Swiss Alps. Why? I have no idea. I’d asked Brandon, but he’d just shrugged and continued to watch me with a worried, watchful gaze.

  I rubbed my teeth over my sore, swollen bottom lip, and wince. His eyes darken and anger storms through his expression. He stands, holds out his hand. “Come with me. I need to take care of you.”

  My brow furrows, but I take his outstretched palm, and let him lead me to the bedroom in the back of the plane. When we get there, he puts his fingers on my shoulders and presses until I’m sitting on the edge. Then he kneels down, and begins to remove my strappy sandals, his touch soft, as though he might break me.

  I stare down at his bent golden head, and in that moment he looks like an angel. I touch his temple, stroking over his hair. “I’m okay, Brandon.”

  He nods and continues his work. Removing the first shoe before following with the second. When he’s done, he rises and works the straps of my dress down my arms, pulling me up so that it falls to my feet and I’m left standing there naked.

  I think back to getting ready for this evening, my excitement. My anticipation. The shiver of desire racing down my spine as I slipped on my dress and thought about him taking it off later.

  It feels like a million years ago. Another lifetime, belonging to another woman.

  Never would I have thought I’d end up like this. Bruised and confused.

  All I want is for us to be okay, but he’s so silent. Almost still. His expression guarded and remote, with only the brief hints of the storm lurking inside him.

  He walks to the bed and pulls down the covers, motioning for me to get inside. I do what he wants because as much as I want to press him, instinct tells me I shouldn’t.

  He tucks me in, then goes into the bathroom, returning with a washcloth. He sits down and presses it to my lip.