CHAPTER FOUR

NATALIE

Those sandwiches tasted like heaven and that water like the fountain of youth. And those kettle chips were so savory and just hit the spot. Nothing else in my life had ever tasted so damn delicious. 

Still, I kept my guard up and my knife close by. I didn’t trust this Solomon guy as far as I could throw him. He was another gangster, an Al Capone wannabe just like the man who insisted I called him Owner as he dehumanized me and the half dozen other women held prisoner down there. 

Like Leah. 

I ground my teeth as I gripped the edges of the chair I sat in. 

Leah, my surrogate daughter. Would you believe I made it this far? I’m not sure where I am, but at least several hours away. And I ate a real, actual sandwich!

Solomon walked back toward me after having a smoke with the truck driver. I kept one hand on my knife and never took my eyes off him.

He’s not bad-looking.

The thought came out of nowhere and shocked me. I hadn’t felt anything close to attraction or desire for a man in God knows how long. My body probably didn’t even know how to feel pleasure anymore, aside from the pleasure of eating a sandwich. 

But it seemed that eating food did more than just fill my empty stomach. When Solomon approached me with an easygoing smile, I felt my face growing hot. And my eyes feeling shy. 

“Hey, Natalie--” 

“I’m not going back there,” I blurted. 

His face hardened and his smile fell. 

“I’m not taking you back,” he said softly as he kneeled in front of me like placating a stray animal. “I wouldn’t do that to anyone.” 

I tried to hold the intensity of his gaze as he looked at me, trying not to crumble underneath it. Despite thinking I had this guy figured out, he kept doing and saying things I never expected. I didn’t like that. It would make it harder to protect myself if I didn’t know what to expect. 

“If you would like,” he said slowly and deliberately. “You can lay low at my place for a few days. We can make sure you’re not followed, locate your family and take you where you need to be.”

Family?

My heart squeezed at the thought of my dad and I suddenly ached to talk to him. I hadn’t thought of him in months, just survival. The poor guy. Did he have any idea if I was even alive? 

“Or,” Solomon said scratching at the dark stubble on his cheek. “I can drop you off at the women’s shelter in the next town over and we can pretend we never met. No guarantees that Antigua won’t come knocking though. With me, you’ll at least be protected.” 

I stared at him, dumbfounded. He had all the markings of a crime boss but didn’t act like any of the ones I had the displeasure of meeting, if you could call it that. 

“Why would you help me?” I demanded.

He grinned a cocky, boyish smile that would’ve made me blush a lifetime ago. 

“Because you can potentially be a big help to me. If you were indeed Antigua’s property, that means he went back on a deal he made with me. And I can’t allow that.” 

Those amber eyes stared through me as if I were the most fascinating subject he ever studied. No doubt I looked like a trainwreck. I hadn't even seen a mirror in months.

I wilted under his gaze like a thirsty plant in the sun. He was more intimidating than any other man who stared at me, even if so far he was the least sadistic and cruel. 

"This can be a mutually beneficial friendship," he continued, gesturing between himself and me. "We can both take Antigua down in the end. You'd like that, wouldn't you?" 

More than anything. Then Leah and the others can be free while that disgusting, evil bastard rots in Hell. 

Solomon's eyes twinkled mischievously at the reaction on my face. "I knew you'd like that. Again, you have my word that no one will harm you. So what do you say, Natalie?" 

I was still hesitant to trust this man. I didn't know him at all. But as long as we had a common goal, I wanted to believe that he wouldn't hurt me. Once that goal was taken care of, he'd probably show his true colors. But by then I'd hopefully regain some strength and come up with a plan. 

"I'll come with you," I said cautiously. 

"Atta girl," he replied, standing to his feet. "My car's just this way."

Hesitantly, I followed him while still clutching my knife. One of his eyebrows twitched when he saw me grab it but he said nothing as he led me to a sleek, black Audi parked behind the empty building we sat in.

I stiffened as he came extremely close to me, too close. His shirt was still open and I could count the fine hairs on his sculpted chest. He smelled spicy and manly, like Old Spice deodorant. 

"It's okay," he said in response to my stiff, defensive posture. "Just getting the door for you."

He pulled open the passenger door and promptly moved away to the driver's side, taking his arduous scent with him. 

When we both sat down and pulled our doors closed, I had a moment of panic. Being in such a compact space with a strange man kicked my instincts into survival mode. 

Solomon must have seen my change in demeanor. He hit a button that slid back a sunroof and lowered both of our windows halfway down. 

He watched me as I took gulps of fresh air out the window, my panicked breathing slowing down.

"We'll be out of here soon," he said with surprising gentleness as the car pulled onto the gravel road. "You'll have a room where no one will bother you."

I watched the world outside the car window zip by, practically sticking my head out like a dog. What happened while I had been captured? What did I miss in the world of people while I lived like a caged animal?

"What city is this?" I asked Solomon as he took a freeway exit into a subdivision with new-looking, tri-level townhouses. 

"Cloverville, California," he answered, glancing at me as we slowed to a stop sign. "Where are you from, Natalie?" 

"Oregon," I answered. "A small town in the middle of nowhere called Brownsville." 

He let out a charming laugh. "Well if you stick around, you'll feel right at home in Cloverville then." 

We pulled up a to a charming two-story townhouse with a small, manicured lawn. It was clean, cute and trendy and like it was built within the last five years. 

"This is where you live?" I asked, my jaw agape. 

Solomon laughed again. "If you were expecting a mansion or the ghetto, sorry to disappoint either way." 

"No, I just..." didn't expect a mob boss to live in a shiny new housing development with an HOA and probably its own church community.

He led us inside his house to an open, airy space with tall ceilings and cool, tile floors beneath my bare feet. A spacious kitchen with an island stood just beyond the living room, which had large leather couches, a flat screen TV, and what looked like a child's armchair and a crate full of toys and coloring books. 

"Help yourself to anything in the kitchen," Solomon offered with a lopsided grin. "I'm not much of a cook but I have the necessities. And my neighbor brings stuff over so I always have something to heat up. Bedroom and shower are upstairs."

I followed his lead up the staircase, feeling a bit stunned at the fact that I would be living here for the foreseeable future. 

"You can have the guest room," Solomon said, flicking a light on to reveal a room with nothing but a queen-sized bed and a dresser. It reminded me of seeing my old college dorm for the first time.  

"There are clean towels in this closet. The bathroom is down here." Solomon gestured down the hallway. Following the length of his muscular, tattooed arm with my eyes, I saw a door halfway open across the hall. On the other side sat what looked like a twin bed with a purple bedspread and a dollhouse on the floor. 

"You have kids?" I asked before my mind could register if I should be asking personal questions. 

"One," he answered curtly. "My daughter." 

"Oh." 

More questions bubbled up in my brain but I kept my mouth shut. Solomon didn't appear to be married or with a girlfriend. Then again, he didn't appear to live in the suburbs and be a soccer-dad either. 

"She's staying with a neighbor tonight," he said, which answered one of my questions. "You'll probably meet her later." 

"Okay."

We stood awkwardly for a moment until Solomon cleared his throat and turned away. 

"Go ahead and shower if you want. There's a basket of hotel soaps and stuff you can use. I'll grab a shirt and pants you can wear. My neighbor can help you get some actual women's clothes tomorrow." 

"Thank you, Solomon," I mumbled shyly, unsure how to receive such generosities such as soap, clothing, and a bed to sleep in. 

"Don't mention it. And you can call me Sol," he smirked over his shoulder as he swaggered down the hallway.