Calen's Captive

by Lucy Leroux

  “If I have to.”

  “If you want to keep her alive, you probably do.”

  ****

  Maia stared at the parking garage around her. Calen was giving orders to his men, and the older one appeared to be leaving after a bit more conversation in Gaelic. At least she thought it was Gaelic. Her mother hadn’t spoken it, although she’d been half Irish. But her mother had been born in Florida, not Ireland, and she’d never had much interest in her heritage.

  She tried not to look as freaked out as she felt when Calen finished his conversation and gestured for her to join him and the other two men at the elevator. Calen pressed his thumb to a glossy black pad, and the doors closed. They rode in silence, and Maia wondered where the hell she was. She’d only ever seen thumb print locks on television.

  The elevator ride seemed much longer than it probably was. Holding her breath, she looked at Calen out of the corner of her eye. Please don’t let him be an axe murderer. Or worse.

  The elevator doors opened directly onto the top floor penthouse, and Maia exhaled with a little whoosh. Beyond a small foyer, there was a bar on the left. It was stocked with gleaming glass bottles that caught the light. Across from it was a doorway. Beyond it to the right there was a spacious living room with a breathtaking view of the city. A massive fireplace dominated the space, which was filled with comfortable-looking leather furniture.

  “I’ll show you to your room. I’m sending for a doctor. He should be here soon. You may want to shower while I find you some clothes,” Calen said when she didn’t move from the entrance. “I can show you around later.”

  Filled with panic, she whirled to face him. “Do I really have to stay here?” she whispered.

  His eyes flared with something that might have been sympathy. “I’m afraid so. For a while, at least.”

  Maia stared at him. “How long is a while?”

  He raked his hand through his hair and shrugged, looking tired.

  “Days? Weeks? Months?” she asked.

  Calen stood a little straighter but didn’t respond.

  “Years?” she whispered.

  He shifted his weight. “If it comes to that, we’ll find a solution that works...for both of us. Why don’t you shower?”

  Maia followed him numbly, limping to a bright room done in grey and navy. It was a million times nicer than her shabby little studio apartment with its warped floors and windowsill that let in the cold during winter. Everything here was expensive and luxurious. Even if the impersonal decor made it seem more like a hotel room than where someone lived.

  Calen showed her where the bathroom was and then left to find her something to wear. Maia stepped into the bathroom, which was well stocked with soaps and shampoos and fluffy navy blue towels. She shrugged Calen’s leather coat off, hoping like crazy she hadn’t gotten any urine on it. She had peed herself a little in the woods, during the attack. She’d been so embarrassed when he’d given his coat to her. But there hadn’t been any ridicule or pity in his eyes.

  You belong to me now.

  Had he been serious? Was he going to sell her? She didn’t think she would make much money as a prostitute, but she did look young. She still got carded for R-rated movies. There were a lot of sickos out there who wanted the illusion of a young girl. But Calen hadn’t sounded like he meant to do her harm. If he was going to prostitute her, why bring her back here? This was obviously his home.

  If she was going to find out what he actually wanted, she needed to shower and get back out there.

  Maia washed carefully. Her face stung, but she didn’t think anything was broken. Hopefully. She knew her eye was swelling but not too badly. The view in the mirror had shown her as much. Purple and green bruises dotted the left side of her face. When she took off her clothes more were visible on her body, many in the shape of fingerprints. As the adrenaline wore off, her ankle throbbed more and more. She must have sprained it in the woods, but she hadn’t even felt it until the warehouse.

  Once she was done, she wrapped herself in a fluffy towel, not wanting to touch her soiled clothes again. She industriously began to wash them in the sink with shampoo and hung them to dry on the shower door. When she walked back into the bedroom, she limped to a stop. Calen was waiting for her, holding a pile of clothes in his hands.

  “I don’t have anything that will fit you, but I brought you some of my belts so you can adjust some of this stuff. I called a doctor. He’s on his way. And you may want to wait to get dressed until the exam is done so I brought you a robe in the meantime. You should probably stay off that foot till the doctor takes a look at it. Are you hungry?”

  Maia nodded, the move small and tentative.

  “Why don’t we start with soup?” he asked, his hands out and open.

  Soup?

  As if on cue, her stomach rumbled loudly. Nodding miserably, she clutched the towel closer. He gave her a reassuring little smile and left the room. Slipping off the towel, she pulled on the robe. It must have been Calen’s because it was ridiculously large on her. Fingering the soft terry cloth, she climbed onto the bed, hugging a pillow tightly as she waited.

  Chapter 4

  Calen moved to his kitchen and rummaged through his shelves for soup. Would Maia prefer clam chowder or cream of mushroom? Or something with beef?

  Jay and Mike wandered into the kitchen. “Jimmy called,” Jay said. “Your father has been informed of the results of your negotiations. He expressed some concern.”

  “I got what he wanted, and I got what I wanted. He needn’t concern himself with the details,” Calen said with a frown, pouring a can of clam chowder into a saucepan.

  The two men shifted their weight and gave each other meaningful looks, but he didn’t care. He knew they didn’t disapprove, exactly. Both of them were good guys, and they would have done the same thing in his place. No, their concern was about what might happen next—what the Russians might do if they suspected he might let Maia go free. Sighing, he dug through a drawer for a spoon to stir the pot.

  “Is she the one you’ve been looking for, boss?” Mike asked.

  Calen met his eyes then. Of course. Mike had delivered the security footage to him on occasion, before they started sending a feed from the club directly to this penthouse. His security chief had been in his office the night he’d started looking for his fairy, staying late in case she showed up in person. A still of her had been on a monitor for comparison.

  “I’m not sure,” he finally answered. “Looks like her though.”

  “Yeah, she does,” Mike said while Jay frowned in confusion.

  “You saw the girl before?” Jay asked curiously. “Where?”

  “At the club.”

  Jay frowned in confusion. “Why were you looking for her?"

  Calen shrugged. “I’m not sure. She just...she didn’t look real.”

  And it was true, Calen reflected later as he watched the doctor examine Maia from the door to her room. Up close, she looked like his childhood fantasy of an elf or fairy. Her hair and those eyes, the delicate features that were just a little pointed.

  Her skin, the part that wasn’t bruised, seemed to glow with a pearlescent luster that wasn’t normal without cosmetics. He was pretty sure she was the girl he’d spotted in his club, but confirmation of that would have to wait until after the exam.

  Maia finished her soup as the doctor arrived. When they were laying out their equipment, he’d insisted on a full set of X-rays. Calen suspected several of her delicate bones might be fractured or broken.

  The doctor was part of a larger concierge service he used at a few of his east coast clubs. But this particular doctor owed him a favor. Eric Tam was originally from Vegas, where he’d developed a gambling problem. Calen had been doing an on-sight inspection at his club on the strip that day. Tam had been brought to his attention when he couldn’t pay his bill. Calen forgave the debt in exchange for work in trade. When the doctor proved useful, Calen pushed him into Gambler’s Anonymous. A few months
later he’d recommended him to the company he now worked for.

  Eric had been led to believe a VIP had gotten out of control with a waitress. It was understood that a police report wouldn’t be filed for the attack. Calen could tell the doctor didn’t like it, though.

  “Maia, I want to reassure you that this is a safe place,” Eric said in his reassuring doctor tone as his PA cleaned the scrape on Maia’s knee.

  Wide-eyed Maia nodded and Eric leaned in. “Do you need a sexual assault exam?” he asked softly.

  At the door, Calen tensed. He hadn’t thought about the time before the warehouse, of her actual capture. He had assumed Timur hadn’t had time, but now he wasn’t sure.

  “No,” Maia said, wincing from the sting of the antiseptic.

  Eric looked over his shoulder at Calen before turning back to the nymph on the bed. “Would you like your boss to leave?” Eric asked quietly.

  Calen didn’t like the idea of that at all, but he said nothing.

  “No, really. I don’t need one. I didn’t lose consciousness at all. I was dazed, but I stayed awake, and I don’t need one,” Maia whispered. “I was too terrified to let myself pass out.”

  Calen didn’t want to think about what might have happened to Maia if she had lost consciousness. He crossed his arms, fantasizing about punching Timur in the face, but he was careful not to let his anger show. It might scare Maia.

  “Okay, that’s good,” Eric said reassuringly, applying a bandage to her face where the skin had split high on her cheekbone.

  He’d already put a splint on her hand where she had two sprained fingers. Her ankle was also sprained, but thankfully not broken. He told Calen to leave then, announcing that he needed to wrap her ribs because two were cracked.

  Calen went back out to the kitchen to wait. He’d asked Mike to cook the beef wellington his housekeeper had left prepared in the fridge along with some potatoes. It was almost ready. Mike was going to stay on for dinner so they could discuss security. He wanted more men to watch his place, and wherever Maia went from now on.

  “I’m calling in some men I used to serve with. They are in the private sector now. At least two are free to start immediately. They’re good, solid,” Mike said after making a few calls. “How many are you going to want?”

  “Better double that. They can start Monday. I have a meeting then, and she’s going to want to go back to school eventually. I want to be able to have them work in shifts. One of them should double as a driver, too. She goes nowhere alone.”

  “Understood,” Mike said while helping to set the table. “I can set up some other safeguards here. We’ll have to surveil her work.”

  “Yeah, do that,” Calen replied as the doctor emerged from Maia’s room.

  “She might have a problem with that,” Mike added.

  “Do it anyway,” he ordered as he went to meet Eric halfway.

  He sat in the living room while the PA began to pack their medical gear.

  “She has a hairline fracture in her hand and a few cracked ribs,” the doctor began. “The sprain in her ankle is going to cause a few problems, too. She doesn’t need to be hospitalized, but she should rest for the next few days. I’ll leave a set of crutches. She should stay off that ankle for a while. Does her place have an elevator?”

  “She’ll be staying here until she’s better,” Calen said evenly, not offering the possibility that the situation might be long-term.

  Eric's head drew back in surprise. The doctor had done a lot of work for Calen in the past at his clubs, here and in Vegas. He’d patched up people injured in brawls, treated ODs and alcohol poisonings. In every incident, Calen had been detached, more annoyed at the interruption to his business than anything else.

  Calen hated the weakness in people that allowed them to get in those situations, although he’d always been sympathetic when a woman had been involved. Up to a point. Keeping one here, in his home, was out of character, but he didn’t care what the doctor thought as long as he did his job.

  “Okay, well, call me if there is any change,” Eric said, and he and his assistant left.

  ****

  Maia was testing out her new crutches when Calen came to get her for dinner. She was wearing one of his larger sweaters as a dress, using a belt to make it fit. A pair of his thick winter socks covered her feet. Apparently she wasn’t moving fast enough for him because he came and took her crutches away.

  “Hold on,” he said, and before she could protest, he swung her into his arms.

  He carefully avoided the wrap around her ribs with one arm above it and another under her knees.

  “You don’t have to carry me,” she said nervously. “I need to get used to the crutches.”

  “Let the swelling go down more. Don’t worry, the dining room isn’t far,” he replied. “Mike is joining us for dinner. He’s my head of security.”

  Heat rushing to her cheeks, Maia tried to shrink into herself as Calen carried her down the hallway, past the living room and into another hallway. The penthouse was the largest apartment she had ever seen. It was bigger than any house she’d ever been in.

  Calen pushed open a door, and they entered a formal dining room. Like the guest bedroom, it was elegant and austere, with a long dark wooden table and chairs. Everything looked clean and modern, but a little too cold for her personal tastes.

  As if those matter, she thought silently. What she liked and what she wanted no longer mattered.

  You belong to me now.

  She peeked at Calen from under her lashes. What did he want from her? Why had he saved her? She wasn’t sure if he meant it when he’d said he wouldn’t hurt her. A worse fate might be waiting for her. That thought made her tense, a move that hurt her ribs. She exhaled slowly, willing her body to relax.

  “Do you need another pain killer?” Calen asked with concern. “The doctor left you a bottle.”

  “I’m okay,” Maia said, fingering the tablecloth.

  It was a heavy silk damask, which would probably be ruined if she spilled something. Suddenly paranoid about making a mess, she glanced over at the other man, Mike, the one that resembled a heavyweight boxer.

  He was massive, almost as large as the Russian in the woods. He had tattoos on his arms, but these weren’t in Cyrillic. They looked military. When he looked over at her, his eyes were kind, and she relaxed a bit more.

  “Is there anyone waiting for you?” Mike asked.

  “No, it’s just me. Me and work people. My mom died a few years ago. I live alone,” she said.

  Her voice sounded a little weak to her own ears.

  “No boyfriend?” Mike asked, giving Calen a surreptitious glance she didn’t understand as he poured her a glass of water.

  Calen and Mike were drinking wine, but Calen apologetically told her she couldn’t have any with her pain medication.

  “No,” she replied, taking her glass awkwardly.

  The fingers on her right hand were sprained so she couldn’t use it well. But using her left was worse. In the end, she used both hands. Looking up, she saw Calen watching her attentively.

  “Girlfriend?” Mike continued questioning her.

  Maia’s lips twitched. “No. What do you secure?” she asked him.

  “I’m in charge of security for all of Mr. McLachlan’s nightclubs. I’m based at Siren right now.”

  She looked directly at Calen. “You own Siren? I’ve been there. Once…”

  “Really? When?” he asked.

  “Um, like three weeks ago. It was a Friday,” she said, meeting his eyes in silent appraisal.

  Would a successful club owner also be a pimp? As if reading her mind, Calen gave her a huge smile. It was probably meant to be disarming, but she found it intimidating. He had a lot of straight white teeth—like a very handsome shark.

  He continued to smile at her expectantly.

  “It’s a nice club,” Maia said when he didn’t say anything.

  “Thanks,” he said, then took a sip of wine. “D
id you have fun?”

  She nodded. “Yes, although we didn’t stay long.” He waited, and eventually she filled in the rest. “It was for a friend’s birthday. I’m not sure how she got us in, but she didn’t want to stay.”

  “Why not?” Mike asked.

  Maia frowned. “She thought she saw her cousin and wanted to leave. There’s some weirdness there with her family. We went for ice cream instead.”

  Calen seemed to miss a beat. “We can have ice cream for dessert,” he offered generously after a moment. “What’s your favorite flavor?”

  Maia stared at him, her mind blank. A few hours ago, she’d been a hairsbreadth from a fate worse than death. And now a ridiculously handsome man was interrogating her about her ice cream preferences.

  Be nice and tell him whatever he wants to know.

  Feeling slightly surreal and detached, she nodded in agreement with the voice in her head, “Cookies and Cream.”

  “I like that one, too, although I might like Rocky Road better.”

  “That’s my third favorite,” she said, playing with her fork.

  “What’s the second?” Mike asked.

  “Strawberry, but only if it’s Häagen-Dazs. If it’s Cookies and Cream, it can be anything,” she said with a small but genuine smile.

  “I think we can do that,” Calen said, standing when a timer beeped.

  She could hear him moving around the kitchen before calling the concierge downstairs and ordering the ice cream flavors she liked and rocky road for him. He swept back into the dining room a few minutes later with the food. Maia’s eyes widened appreciatively when he served her a large pastry-covered slice of beef, which he covered with lots of mushroom gravy.

  When the ice cream arrived, Maia declared she couldn’t eat another bite, but Calen coaxed her into a small dish. Everything was delicious, and she thanked him profusely.

  “Stop thanking me.” He laughed.

  Maia couldn’t remember ever having a nicer meal. And certainly not one in such a lovely place. The dining room, though austere, was beautiful. It belonged in a magazine.

  After Mike left, Calen carried her to the living room and started a fire.