20
Mia’s head throbbed the moment her eyes fluttered open, and that throb moved to a skull-crushing pound a second later. Paired with a deep ache that started at the tip of her spine and slowly spread all over her body, it was nearly unbearable, making her wonder if she could move her limbs even if she wanted to. Regardless of the discomfort, she still couldn’t close her eyes and return to the sleepy dream world where the pain assaulting her in her lucid state hadn’t existed. She couldn’t surrender the sight before her.
The sight of him—her captor—guiding the steering wheel of the car with the palm of his hand, his green eyes trained forward on the deserted road they traveled. His orbs were slightly glassy as if he himself was lost in a dream world. As the rumble of the car engine nearly lulled her back to sleep, as her eyes ran over him, Mia couldn’t help but wonder what he was thinking about. It must’ve been something good because he hadn’t even noticed she’d woke up.
The sloppy bun that was proving to be his signature sat at the nape of his neck. This was the first time she’d seen him in the sunlight, noting the natural blonde highlights sweeping through his dark brown hair, illuminated by the sun shining through the windshield. The daylight illuminated the true color of his eyes as well. A brighter, softer green than they’d appeared in that dark, dank house.
She traced the strong outline of his slightly bearded jaw and the long sleeve black shirt he wore. A shirt that left no question to the outline of his huge arms. Arms whose strength she could still remember being wrapped around her, pulling her up to her toes—into his erection—with their brute, unapologetic strength. She remembered those arms holding her up as he licked and sucked her neck, somehow knowing that her knees had gone weak and buckled underneath her the moment his hot tongue had touched her skin. She licked her parched lips as her eyes traveled his flat stomach, littered with rock hard abs beneath his shirt, and lingered on his black tapered sweatpants. His legs were spread apart as far as they could go, so long that his knees brushed the steering wheel on either side, even though he’d pushed the seat as far back as it would go.
A lump took up residence in her throat as she recalled the beast he somehow kept hidden between his legs. The same beast that had left her breathless when she’d wrapped her fingers around it up against that bathroom door. Breathless at his sheer size and blinded with need after just one touch. Even then, after what she assumed was hours of sleep and being severely dehydrated, her body was ready and roaring.
When his eyes suddenly flew to her, Mia held her breath.
If he was surprised to see that she was awake, he didn’t show it. Instead, he frowned, looking just as mean and dangerous as ever. But this one was far from dangerous.
His eyes fell to her chest.
She followed his gaze and caught sight of the white terry cloth towel she’d been wearing during their time up against the bathroom door. The way the tie in the towel was holding onto her breasts by a prayer. How the gaping flap at the bottom was dangerously close to revealing her pussy. She tightened the tie and fixed the flap.
When she snuck a look up at him, she saw he was well on his way down the same memory lane she’d just finished traversing. He seemed to realize that traveling that road was just as perilous as she had because he broke his eyes away from her. Keeping his attention on the road—an expanse of dead grass and scattered trees that appeared to lead to nowhere—he seized a water bottle from the cup holder in the center console.
He met her eyes and offered it to her.
That was when Mia realized her limbs weren’t bound. No tape over her mouth. Either he hadn’t had time to restrain her after the shootout in the cottage, or he found her too weak a fighter to even bother tying her up. Maybe he no longer considered her a flight risk.
Or perhaps his heart simply hadn’t allowed him to do it. Perhaps their fleeting moment in the bathroom hadn’t been so fleeting to him at all.
Mia didn’t let herself entertain that last thought. It was now as clear as day how dangerous it was to humanize him. A day ago, he’d been a savage, a barbarian—a downright ape to her. Which was why she’d come close to escaping him the first time. She still had plans to escape and making him anything other than the heartless primitive he was would only complicate things unnecessarily.
“Thank you,” she whispered, taking the water.
He swallowed thickly before looking back toward the road.
It was only then that the pain in Mia’s body reminded herself of its presence. She uncurled herself from the uncomfortable position she’d craned into during her rest, making sure to hold onto the tie in her towel. The pain was amplified with each movement. It was all over her body. The searing ache in her foot was the worst. She looked down and saw that it had been wrapped in cheap gauze, which she assumed he’d purchased at the same place as that fresh water bottle. As she screwed opened her water bottle and drank, well on her way to emptying it in one fell swoop, she snuck another look at him from the corner of her eye.
He didn’t look back.
Her eyes fell to the gearshift when he suddenly moved it around, catching sight of two passports sitting in the cup holder in front of it. She seized both, smirking when she flipped one open and saw a photo of herself with a fabricated Ethiopian name and birthday she could barely pronounce. She flipped open his passport, and upon being met with the name “Harold Washington” next to his scowling photo, she still didn’t believe it was really his. He must have anticipated their stay in London would be a short one. That the possibility of crossing the border might be unavoidable.
“You really thought of everything, huh?” she mumbled, popping the fake passports back into the cup holder. When he didn’t respond, her attentions shifted to yellow stuffed bear propped up in a small compartment just beyond the gear shift. She brought the empty bottle from her lips with a smack, looking back at him while screwing the top on.
“What is it with you and that bear?”
He licked his lips but didn’t respond, keeping his eyes on the road.
She set the bottle back into the cup holder, next to his, which was only half empty. “You carry it with you everywhere. Like some kind of security blanket.”
No response.
“How long have I been asleep?”
He set his elbow out of the open window next to him, where the whir of the wind outside buzzed into the car and made wisps of his hair come undone from his bun.
“Hours,” he answered.
“I stepped on a piece of glass and hit my head.”
“I noticed.”
Not only had he noticed, but he’d apparently taken steps to clean her up sometime during that drive. Her heart tried to civilize him again, but she fought it away. She fought it back with thoughts of him pressing her up against the door of that bathroom. Of how close he’d been to taking every part of her. Even if, during her successful seduction of him in that bathroom, she’d also succeeded in seducing herself, that moment had still served as proof that he was just like every other man. That he would’ve fucked her up against that door and returned her to Malik the same day. Without a single flutter in his heart. Without a single blink of his gorgeous green eyes. He could’ve taken her body without any feelings involved before throwing her away like yesterday’s trash.
He was handsome. He was nice enough. And he had a dick the size of a horse. But he was still a man.
Still her captor.
And she had to find a way to escape. A way to freedom. Thanks to her fall, she’d lost the sequin she’d been planning to attack him with earlier, but since he didn’t seem to be in any hurry to bind her limbs again, she was sure it’d be no problem finding another “weapon.”
“Where are we going?” she asked.
He didn’t answer.
A shot of irritation prickled her skin. “Taken hostage. Worst migraine in history. Bleeding profusely from the foot. And treated like I don’t exist? Are all your lady friend’s this lucky? Or am I just the rare exception?”
He cut a look at her, a smirk picking up his lips before he returned his eyes to the road. “You’re an exception, all right.”
“You might think you’re helping your cause by ignoring me, but actions always speak louder than words, and your actions have told me more about you than your lips ever could.” She tilted her head at him. “You kidnapped me, but you haven’t killed me because you want something from Malik. It can’t be money because he would’ve paid you by now. You got into a shootout with his goons and apparently won, which means you’ve been trained. A government operative? A contract killer? A cop?”
His eyes flew to one corner, but he didn’t look at her.
“I’m guessing a cop. I threw myself at you, but you shunned my advances—even though our little exchange in the bathroom proved you wanted it all along.”
His jaw tightened.
She smiled at the sight. “Only a man with a false sense of virtue and superiority would’ve fought his most basic instinct as hard as you did.” She nibbled her lip. “Yes. Definitely a cop. Well, I’ve got news for you, officer. That air of righteousness you wear like a gold medal starts losing its luster real fast when you drug a woman at a party and steal her from her husband.”
“Thought you’d rather die than go back to Prince Ali,” he spat, looking into her eyes this time.
The soft smile that had been growing on her face vanished in an instant. “I would rather die. Which only proves even further that your virtuousness is a farce. You know I’d rather die than go back to him, but you don’t care. You would’ve happily handed me right back over if his men hadn’t charged in and tried to take me before you got what you wanted.”
He rolled his eyes and looked back at the road.
“If it’s not money you’re after… then what?” she breathed. “Even if you don’t tell me, I’ll find out. Like I said, your actions tell the real story. Just like they did in the bathroom.”
“Because I was all alone in that bathroom, right?” He cut a look at her. “That was all me.”
“Are we really gonna sit here and pretend you weren’t two seconds from putting your dick inside me?”
“Are we really gonna sit here and pretend you weren’t begging for it?”
Her mouth dropped open.
This time, he let his gaze linger on her for a long moment before he looked away with a soft hiss.
They stewed in the silence.
But Mia’s mind was running a mile a minute, and she found herself whispering, “How did you get past border patrol with the mayor’s wife in your car?”
“Told them you were a lookalike. That you get mistaken for Mia Ali all the time.”
“Big risk.”
“Paid off. Besides, Malik hasn’t reported you missing. They had no reason to believe you were the real Mia Ali and not just her doppelganger.”
She chortled. “Guess it’s true what they say. You guys really do think we all look alike, huh?”
He smirked. “Guess so.”
“No questions about why I’m wearing nothing but a towel?”
“Nope. Plenty of appreciative stares, though.”
Her eyes went to a faraway place. “I wonder how Malik’s soldiers found us.”
He shook his head, showing that he’d been wondering the same damn thing. Probably a lot during what she could only assume was one hell of a long-ass drive. He’d already told her she’d been asleep for hours, and from the looks of the never-ending expanse of empty land all around them, they probably had many more to go.
“They must’ve tracked your car,” she said. “Figured out a way to get the plates from the surveillance at the pavilion. If they found us on the outskirts London—they’ll find us here too.”
“Good thing I switched cars, then.”
“I’m sure they got a look at the plates on all your cars before you killed them and reported back to Malik.”
“Good thing I switched the plates too, then.”
“How many cars do you leave lying around for occasions like this?”
“Enough.”
“Enough cars or enough questions?’”
“Both.”
She fell back into her seat with a huff, keeping her gaze on him as she crossed one of her long legs over the other.
His eyes fell, helplessly, to watch as she did. They traveled down her legs and up again, eventually locking onto the scar on her thigh.
Mia tried to tug her towel down to hide the scar, but it was no use. The towel was too short.
Thankfully, he had the grace to look back toward the road.
He wanted to know about the scar. To ask her where it had come from, or better yet, what Malik had done to put it there. He didn’t ask, however. Even though the question was clear as day in his eyes. She was sure he’d gotten his fill of that scar while she’d been asleep, as well as the others littered all over her body. A body scarcely covered by that towel. Leaving all her “secrets” center stage.
A wave of nausea rolled through her body at the memories hitting her one-by-one, but she didn’t let it steal her joy. She didn’t let it steal the hope she could still see on the horizon. Hope that she would eventually escape the man who’d put all those scars on her body—and the man driving that car—forever.