by Alaska Jones
Of course, back then I didn’t know I’d end up bringing her to the apartment and have access to her phone book and email. The screen was cracked, but it worked alright, and then I smashed it to pieces once I was done. She doesn’t need to know there’s just no way would a phone break like that from a simple fall. She won’t be needing this phone anyway.
It’s still a mess, what the situation has turned into, but I have a plan. I know exactly how she fits into it, and once I’m done, I’ll get her a cab and a bus ticket and send her on her way. Then, I’ll disappear.
My buzzing cell phone pulls me out of my thoughts, and I see it’s Alan aka Alabama, the friend who’s currently setting everything up for me in Mexico.
“Hey, Al,” I greet him, grimacing at the loud music and female voices in the background.
“Hello, my grumpy friend! I’ve got good news.” He sounds like a teenager on spring break, despite being only a couple years younger than me. In my thirty-two years, I have yet to meet someone who can be as positive as him while dealing with all kinds of shady people on a daily basis. Being an extreme sports junkie and having hit his head a few times might have something to do with that.
“I see the new lifestyle agrees with you.”
Al snorts. “Why wouldn’t it? We’ve got beer, girls, beautiful beaches, and long, warm nights. You’ll see, once you finally get here.”
“Yeah, yeah… Tell me about the good news.”
“Gia has dug up quite a bit on your new client. You’d better come up with how you’re gonna thank her, ’cause she’s about to surprise you.” Gia is the hacker that I usually work with, and being another one of Al’s friends, she’s twice as weird. She prefers favors to money, and so far, her requests have been nothing but strange.
“Um… That’s great. Say thanks for me.” I don’t ask him to put her on the phone, knowing that she will refuse, as usual. She has yet to reply to any of the countless Thank You emails I sent her after every report she provided for me. Everything there ever was on Hunt, from his first love to his fake names and offshore bank accounts, I’m sure I’ll have it by tomorrow.
A dull pounding breaks the silence just as Al calls for Gia, who’s apparently there right now. Grabbing a small, old model Nokia off the table, I get up and head to the bedroom.
“Al, I gotta go. I’ll call you later.”
“Sure.”
The pounding grows louder as I walk down the hallway.
“You promised to tell me who the hell you are!” Jenna’s voice is loud enough to wake up the whole block. She must be a witch or something, already up after the sleeping pill I put in her soup. If she keeps pounding on the door like that, I’ll have to install a grid door instead. Don’t want the neighbors to get suspicious.
She’s making too much noise to hear me coming, so when I unlock the door and swing it open, she jumps back like a startled cat. Holding back a grin, I cross the room and crack open the window. If I were her, I’d be sleepy just from staying locked in here.
I take my time enjoying the fresh air as her gaze travels from me to the wide open door. Her body tense, she’s probably thinking about making a dash for it, even with me standing right here, next to her. It’s all I need to know that she will try to escape at the first chance.
“Sit down,” I say. Her hovering is annoying.
The bed creaks behind me as she obeys, while I grab an old armchair and turn it around to face her. Leaving the door open, I sit down and meet her gaze. The thought is annoying, but deep inside, I admit that her presence somehow makes this bleak, dusty place seem warmer.
“Stop staring at me and tell me what the hell this all means,” she spits out. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she keeps her back straight, as if waiting for me to attack her.
She still looks like a mess, but much better than before, with her wavy hair smoothed down around her face and that over-the-top makeup gone. And as hard as I try, I can’t ignore the way the T-shirt I gave her clings to her body. If there’s one thing sexier than the silk dress she was wearing the night she got attacked, it’s an oversized shirt that keeps me guessing about what’s underneath it.
I clear my throat, snapped out of my reverie by her glowering green eyes. “I’m the one asking questions here, and the better your answers are, the bigger your chances of making it out alive become.” I see her nose stick up even higher in the air. Her arrogance is amusing as hell.
“What if I don’t answer them at all?” She arches an eyebrow at me.
I let out an exaggerated sigh. “Then tomorrow, the police will find your body in some ditch on the city outskirts, with no face, teeth and fingers to identify it.”
Her face turns white, then green, and I grimace inwardly. There’s no way to fix the damage, because it’s not like I can say, Oh, I’m sorry, it slipped out ’cause that’s how I usually talk to people in my line of work. When she stays silent, I continue,
“Your boyfriend got his hands dirty, big time. He’s a dead man, but you might just make it. And the sooner I find him, the better your chances are.”
“I don’t know anything about it, so I can’t help you.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure about that. Let’s talk about what you do know. What kind of business does Anthony Hunt do?”
“He owns three clubs here in LA. That’s all I know.” Her voice sounds confident, but her fidgeting movements tell me a different story.
“Alright,” I nod my head, letting it go for now. “What do you know about his current location?”
“Anthony’s in Italy on business. He’s on the road a lot of time.”
“How often do you call each other while he’s on the road? Did you ever had a reason to doubt what he’d told you?”
She frowns, but answers right away, “Of course, I had reasons. I stopped caring a while ago. We don’t talk on the phone often when he’s away. In fact, not even once in the past month.”
“Wasn’t he supposed to be at the club the night you got assaulted?”
“Yes, he was supposed to leave next day. I was having a break when Charlie – the club manager, he’s an old friend of Anthony – told me Anthony had to catch another plane, something urgent. I didn’t ask what. And then I came out, and some guy grabbed me on my way to the car and dragged me around the corner. Why did those men attack me?”
“They were probably waiting for Hunt, and when he didn’t show up, they followed you instead. A lot of people are looking for him right now. What if he stayed in town, is there a place where he could go, like a safe house?”
“I don’t know! He’s never been in trouble before,” she snaps. “Not that I know of, anyway. And why would he stay here? He flies off to Italy every chance he gets. I’m sure he’s on another continent by now, if he screwed up.”
And I’m sure this is what he wants us all to think.
“I’m pretty sure it’s Colombia, not Italy.” I can see the last of her confidence shatter as she looks down at her hands, probably accepting the fact that everything she knows about Hunt is just a bunch of lies. Hunched on the bed like this, she looks so miserable, I have to remind myself that she’s the girlfriend of the man I’m about to kill, and only God knows what she’s capable of.
“Just let me go,” her quiet voice brings me back to our conversation. “You see, I can’t help you find him. I’ll pack my things and go home tonight.” She looks up at me with the big green eyes of a naïve teenager, not a grown woman.
I sigh and stretch out my legs, uncomfortable in the hard armchair. “To your parents? You want all this to follow you there?”
“It’s not me these men want, it’s Anthony. Nobody will even notice I’m gone.”
“Is that so? Your place was trashed the day after you got attacked. You have no idea how many people are looking for Hunt right now, and you are the second on their list.”
“My apartment was trashed??” I restrain myself from rolling my eyes. With everything that’s happened, her apartment should be the least
of her worries.
“You’re the only connection to Hunt that I have, and that’s why you’re here. Your role is to sit tight and wait for his call, if it ever happens. In return, I’ll help you find a safe way out when it’s over. You’ll lie low for a year or so, and then you can resurface somewhere else.”
“A year…?”
“Here’s a phone,” I take the Nokia from my pocket, not willing to dwell on the subject. “If Hunt calls, you will call for me and then answer the phone. Got it?” She seems distracted as I get up and walk over to the bed. I take her SIM card and put it in the new phone, noticing how her eyes flash when she looks up at my hands. “You will not call anyone else,” I point out before she even says anything.
“What if they call me? My friends must be worried.” She reaches out for the phone, but I pull my hand back.
“They’ll survive. You will only pick up if it’s Hunt, and only after letting me know. For your friends, you can record a voicemail greeting saying you’re out of town, the reception is bad, and you’ll get back to them as soon as you can.”
“I will not do that!”
Locking my gaze with hers, I slip the phone back in my pocket. When I take a step forward, she shrinks back on the bed, but holds my gaze.
“On second thought,” I muse out loud, “I don’t need you that much. I’ll find a way to get the information I need myself.”
“Okay, okay! I won’t call anyone! Give me the damn phone!” She scowls at me as I hand it to her. “At least I’ll have some stupid phone game to entertain me so I can live a little bit longer before I die of boredom in this hole.”
“Sweetheart, I can entertain you just fine anytime,” the words roll off my tongue even as I mentally smack myself. What. The. Fuck? I turn around and reach the door in two big strides. There’s no need to look at her face – her shocked gasp tells me all I need to know. That’s the line I’m not going to cross, so why did I say it?
I stop with my hand on the door handle when I realize she’s talking to me. “What, you won’t even tell me your name?”
“Uh…” I speak over my shoulder so I don’t have to look at her, since I lose control over my tongue when I do. “It’s, um… Cage.”
Her unladylike snort makes me raise an eyebrow. “Is that a joke?”
“What?” Caught off guard, I turn my head. She’s waiting for my reply with her arms crossed over her chest. Tearing my eyes off of her perky boobs, I say the first thing that comes to my mind. “No, that’s my name.”
I walk out and close the door before she can say anything else. Already in the living room, I understand the blank look she gave me when I told her my name. Cage as in a cage.
Oh, you moron, I sigh and get back to work.
Chapter 4
Jenna
Freak. I shake my head and power up the phone. The room is dark by now, but I don’t feel like getting up.
Daytime naps always make me groggy, but now, I look at the half-eaten soup and wonder if there’s anything else to it. I did fall asleep right after my meal, and knowing that he has drugged me before, I wouldn’t be surprised to find a sleeping pill in my food. It would make his life easier, if I were half-asleep all the time. It would also take away any chance of escaping that I might get.
I raise the phone to my ear. After all, he never said anything about checking my voicemail. There’s a half-dozen panicked messages from my best friend Tina, nothing from Anthony, and one from Charlie. I’m not surprised – the old man always cared about my wellbeing more than my dear boyfriend.
“Hey, kid. We’re worried about you here at the club. Someone trashed your place, and your car is still here. I know you’re alive. Let me know if I can do anything.”
I put the phone down with a sigh. Sure, I could try calling him against Cage’s will, but what would I say? I’d just blow my chances of getting out, and Cage would never give me the phone back. I don’t even know where I am, and if there’s a way to make the most of this one risky phone call, I haven’t figured it out yet.
Moving the phone to the nightstand, I stretch on the bed in the dark. At least, he doesn’t seem to be a maniac, if I can say that about someone who kills people for money. My thoughts wander to Anthony and the bizarre idea of Cage eventually killing him. In my head, it’s too surreal and distant. I push it away, reminding myself of how Anthony left me here without as much as giving me a chance, but the guilt is still there, gnawing on my insides. So I turn my thoughts to my captor instead.
Having gotten a good look at him, I admit that he doesn’t seem that scary anymore. In my mind’s eye, I can still see him gazing at me, one dark brow arched curiously. Sexy as sin, literally.
I remember his comment about “entertaining me anytime” and feel the blood rush to my cheeks. I shouldn’t get flustered at things like that; not at twenty-six years old, anyway. I should be insulted, but all I can feel is the warmth in my stomach at the idea that it could happen. Just the idea. What would it be like? His hard, inked body pressed to mine. His strong arms around me, and my fingers tangled in his hair…
I sit up on the bed, pushing the dirty images out of my head. Seriously, you need to get laid, and not here.
Deciding that a long shower will help me wake up, I get on my feet and stretch. I remember about the window and give it a careful tug. Slowly, so that it wouldn’t make a sound, I open it all the way and stick my head outside. There’s a busy street to my right, but I can only see a small part of it through the narrow gap between the two buildings. It’s too far for anyone to hear me, while Cage is right behind the wall. I close the window a little and cover it with the curtain, then grab a towel from the wardrobe and head to the bathroom.
My head is still pretty hazy as I drag my feet to the big shower stall and lose the T-shirt and underwear I’m wearing. The hot water envelops me like a warm cloud, and I let myself melt under it, forgetting about all the trouble for a few minutes. I come back to reality only to grab soap and wash the last two days off my body, and by the time I’m done, I feel even more exhausted.
Maybe it’s the head trauma, maybe the pill he put in my food, but my vision is foggy even though my thoughts are perfectly clear. That’s why it takes me a few seconds to make out the shirtless figure behind the sliding glass door. I raise my hand to wipe the fogged glass so I can make sure I’m not hallucinating. He’s standing frozen in the doorway, eyes on me, hand on the doorknob, as if not sure whether he should leave or stay. But when our gazes lock, he steps inside and closes the door behind him.
Now, it’s my turn to freeze. I watch him hang the towel he’s holding, the muscles of his arm shifting under the tan skin. My eyes slide over the broad planes of his sculpted chest, his muscular shoulders, down to the line of the low-riding jeans. When he reaches into his pocket and takes out his phone, leaving it on a shelf, my heart stutters in my chest. What is he doing?
I take a step back, forgetting I’m trapped in the shower. He pulls the door open and steps inside, under the hot water, his denim-clad thigh brushing mine. I watch his jeans get soaked with a kind of shocked fascination, until his long fingers wrap around my chin, forcing my head up. In the muted light of the shower stall, his eyes look black. He raises his arm to push back the wet hair that falls into his eyes, and I snap out of it, if only for a moment.
“What are you doing?” I mouth, not trusting my voice probably for the first time in my life.
“Keeping my promise,” he murmurs, sliding his palm over my neck and down to my chest. The rough touch leaves goosebumps in its trail, and I tremble when his hand slides between my breasts and wraps around my waist.
“W-what?” I utter through the dry throat.
He responds by slipping his fingers into my hair so that my head is cradled in his palm, and before I can twist away, his lips are on mine, forcing them open.
My mumbling protest breaks off as I melt under the firm touch, lost in the kiss that feels like falling into an abyss. It seems like an eternity before
he pulls away just enough for me to draw a gasping breath. Eyes wide, I stare at him in search of an explanation, but he doesn’t give me one, and neither does his face, as cold and controlled as ever. Only his eyes betray the raging lust inside him, but all it does is make me hot and wet.
In a moment of clarity, I pull away, only to realize that his other arm is circling my back. With a single movement of his elbow, he has me pressed against him. I know I lost the battle the second I feel his hard bulge against my stomach, but the distant voice in the back of my head still protests when my hands press to his muscular back.
He releases my hair and grabs my thigh, wrapping my leg around his hips as he presses me into the wall. My fingernails dig into his smooth skin when his lips and teeth find my neck, and I throw my head back, wondering remotely if I should still try to stop him. Before I can say anything, he claims my mouth again, this time deeper, hotter, greedier.
I tighten my hold on him with one hand, while the other unbuttons his jeans. I can feel him pulsing in my fingers, but he pushes my hand away, taking it from there. I wrap my other leg around him and my hand in his hair, and gasp at the sensation of his hot cock pressed against me. To make it even more impossible, he slips one hand between my legs, sliding his fingers over the sweet spot that makes me moan and claw at his back.
I can’t help but grind against him, silently begging him to enter me, and when I open my eyes for a second, I find him smiling with a corner of his mouth. He pulls at my bottom lip with his teeth, his smile turning devilish, and I angle my body so that he would slip right in…
I wake up with a start, feeling sweaty, confused, and dirty beyond measure. The room is dark and silent, and the window is cracked open, the way he left it.
With a frustrated sigh, I let my head fall back on the bed. No more damn sleeping pills! It’s one thing to dream about him because that’s what I’d been thinking about before I fell asleep, but to dream about that? What the hell? I wish he’d brought my clothes from the apartment, since he’d been there anyway. Particularly, clean underwear.
