Chapter Four
Fresh from a long and thorough shower, I stand in front of the mirror and wipe away the fog with my palm.
My glasses are off, a burgundy towel wrapped around my damp body. The glasses are not needed, but they are wanted. I’m nearsighted. I can see mostly without their aid, but everything appears slightly blurry.
In order to be on top of my game at all times, I need perfect resolution and clarity in all things, therefore I keep my glasses on at all times. Contacts are not an option. Too itchy and uncomfortable.
Normally, I have tumbling, wayward waves of blond hair and unruly, flyaway bangs that conceal my slightly high forehead. At the moment, however, my wet hair is flopping down my shoulders in limp, soggy curls. The only time my bangs obey is when wet.
I look in the mirror and two wide, silver saucers for eyes peer back at me. Big and blatant. My nose is small and my mouth even smaller—with twin dimples when I smile. Which I don’t.
I’m five-foot-four, one hundred twenty-five pounds—although I’m pretty certain my copious breasts take up at least six of those pounds.
I might be a nerd, but I’m a comely nerd. I know that.
Despite being called mocking and sometimes disparaging names throughout my life, I’m no victim to low self-esteem. In my reflection I see beauty, strength, and independence. I see a woman who’s complete because she’s content with who she is, inside and out.
I’m who I was meant to be—Timberly Day.
And I see no reason to be displeased or unsatisfied with that.
It hits me in that moment of nakedness that I have no habiliments or accouterments other than that frilly, silly dress.
I pick up my glasses from the vanity and slide them on before returning to the bedroom. Collin sits in the middle of the bed, clipping his toenails.
“Eww.” I’m repulsed. “You clip your toenails in your bed?”
Without looking up, he replies, “I do everything in my bed. It’s my favorite place.”
“And I’m supposed to share it with you?”
“Hey, I’m not crazy about it, either. What with your sudokuphobia, and all.”
“Sedatephobia.”
“Whatever. Look, throw some clothes on. Kav said breakfast is ready.”
“It’s noon.”
“We have our own rules. Get dressed.”
“Um, about that…”
Collin looks up from his clipping. His mouth opens, as if to say something, but then it just stays open, while his eyes roam my body. Around mid-thigh, where my towel stops, his gaze lingers for a moment, then moves slowly downward before coming right back up again. He appears to be trapped in a speech-impeded limbo.
So, I press, “Will your boss, Jaxon, be providing apparel for me, too?”
That snaps Collin out of it. He scowls. “He’s not my boss.”
“Well, he told you to drug me and you did it, so I’d say he is.”
“Think whatever you want.” Collin scrambles off the bed as if his arse is on fire and hurries over to the dresser, rummaging through a couple of drawers before selecting a pair of red striped boxer shorts and a plain white T-shirt. He chucks them at me. “Here. Put these on for the time being.”
As I take them and head for the bathroom, I hear him curse under his breath. Don’t know what that’s about.
My nipples poke against the T-shirt when I put it on, but it’ll have to do.
When I emerge from the bathroom, Collin’s gaze goes straight to my rack, and his Adam’s apple bobs. “On second thought…” He disappears into a walk-in closet and returns with a red hoodie that bears the Flash symbol on the front. “Put this on, too.”
I pull it over my head, shove my arms in, and tug it down. “Big Flash fan, huh?”
With an absentminded, “Uh-huh,” he moves to the nightstand and scoops up his cell. “C’mon. Let’s get you fed.”
He leads me out the room and into a wide hallway, then down a flight of steel stairs.
Collin walks me through a large loft, industrial in design. Rugged. Rustic. Brick walls, exposed beams and woodwork, thick columns, stainless-steel doors, reclaimed-wood flooring, and huge windows providing lots of natural light. It’s capacious, sparse with furniture, and airily open.
Very manly. Not the kind of place a normal woman would enjoy for long.
The aroma of pepperoni sausage and ham dances on the air to music of clinking utensils and groggy grumbles.
We pass through an archway that leads into an enormous—no joke—kitchen/dining area designed of oak and stainless steel.
Jo and Eduardo are sitting around a large wooden table, sipping big mugs of coffee. Kavon is at the stove ladling food onto dishes.
He turns with two platefuls of eggs, sausages, ham, and French toast. A grin splits his face when he sees Collin and me. “Morning, hostage. Nice of you to join us.”
At that, Eduardo’s and Jo’s heads swivel to where Collin and I are standing just inside the archway.
Jo scowls.
Eduardo smiles.
Kavon sets the loaded plates down in front of them.
With mischief in his smile, Eduardo pats the empty chair beside him. “Here, mami. Have a seat. Let me share my sausage with you.”
I move to go sit beside him, but Collin throws an arm around my neck and pulls me into his side. “She sleeps where I sleep, so she sits where I sit.”
“Whoa, now,” Eduardo says through a chuckle, palms up in defense. “Was just offering her a piece of my sausage, mi amigo. But I’m guessing you already fed her yours, eh?”
Collin ignores him and walks over to the table, choosing two chairs down from Eduardo, across from Jo.
As he kindly pulls out my chair for me to sit, Jo narrows a glare at us, her top lip curling in disgust. “Whatever’s going on with you two, you better not let Jaxon catch a whiff. She’s his hostage, not yours, Collin.”
“Then maybe she should be sleeping in his bed and not mine,” Collin snaps, and takes the chair beside me.
Pursing my lips, I stare at Jo across the table. “Out of sugar, sweetie?”
Her tone is irritated when she replies, “What?”
“Well, you are annoyingly bitter. I can only assume there’s no sugar. Perhaps it’s that time of the month? Or maybe pissy is just your natural disposition. If so, there are steps you can take to fix that. I have a degree in psychiatry and can help. Bitterness is not a comely trait. The great Solomon once wrote that it’s better to live in the corner of an attic than with a quarrelsome and complaining woman.”
Jo full-on glowers at me, her pierced brow twitching. Jet-black pixie hair sticks out every which way, black eyeliner smudged all over her eyelids from sleeping in her makeup. She looks wild and lethal.
Blimey, this girl needs a triple-dose injection of Happy. She’ll indubitably get wrinkles from all that scowling.
“Another thing. You shouldn’t sleep in your makeup. Do that, and you risk aging your skin earlier than you’d like. Also, it widens your pores in an unflattering way and you can get rashes and infections. In fact, those little pimples gathering along your chin are a sign of an impending acne breakout. When dirt and dead skin cells clog your pores, it induces environmental oxidative damage. Makeup and dirt accumulation also contributes to the deterioration of elastin and collagen, which will ultimately have you looking like an old bag twenty years too soon.”
“O-kay. Time to eat up, hostage,” Kavon breaks in, setting down two full plates before Collin and me.
“I’ll cut her, Kav,” Jo grinds out through gritted teeth. “I swear to God, I’ll cut her if she doesn’t keep her mouth shut.”
Kavon chuckles. “And I won’t stop you. But then you’ll have Jaxon to deal with. So—” He shrugs. “Your call.”
“Hey, no one’s cutting anyone,” Collin interjects. He nudges me. “Eat up, Nerd Girl.”
Don’t have to tell me twice. I’m famished. Not too fond of pepperoni, but I could eat a raw cow right now.
Kavon lowers into the seat beside Jo, across from us, and digs into his overloaded plate. Instead of OJ and coffee like the rest of us, he sips premixed protein shake from a liter bottle.
While I eat, I furtively observe his big, venous muscles. They look hard and impenetrable. He has the height of a basketball player, so the muscles don’t leave him disproportionately bulky or thick-necked. He’s just…built. Big, tall, and astonishing, with his dreadlocks groomed neat and clean, and a goatee framing his mouth.
“How big is your penis?” I blurt out.
Kavon chokes on his protein shake while Eduardo grins in delight.
“W-what the— What?” stammers Kavon.
“Well,” I say around a mouthful of scrambled eggs, “there’s this myth that men with big muscles have small penises. Not that I believe it, or anything. But you’re huge, and learning the size of your penis will give me factual ammunition to use should I fall into another big-muscles-small-penis debate in the future. See, that myth is uttered only by brainless dimwits. If a man’s build is larger than the average bloke in terms of muscles—big arms, big thighs—then, obviously, his penis will appear smaller. A skinny bloke’s penis, next to that of a bodybuilder’s, will, indeed, have the more prominent appearance. It’s simple logic.”
Kavon pushes to his feet, walks over to the tap to fill himself a glass of water, and quaffs it. He looks at me, blinks twice, then returns wordlessly to his seat.
“So, Kav?” Collin throws his arm over the back of my chair, grinning. “How big are you?”
Kavon daggers Collin a glare, then shifts his eyes to me with a small smirk. “Tell you what, instead of taking my word for it, why not bring a ruler to my bedroom later on and measure it yourself?”
Heat caresses my cheeks at the thought of placing a ruler alongside Kavon’s penis. But, hey, I’m all about knowledge, so I’m game. “Flaccid or erect?” I ask.
With an eye roll, Jo mutters something nasty under her breath.
“Flaccid,” Eduardo interjects before Kavon can reply. “Definitely flaccid. The only thing hombre, here, gets erect for are hot dogs and buns.”
I’m confused. “He gets aroused by food?”
More eye rolling and under-the-breath muttering from Jo.
“Nah, mami. I’m saying he’s a fruit.”
Even more confused, I pinch my eyebrows together. “He has fantasies of being a fruit who gets aroused by hot dogs and buns? Wow, that’s, um…a particular kind of kink, isn’t it?”
Kavon bites his lip to hide a smile while Collin shakes with laughter beside me. “No, Nerd Girl. He’s tryna tell you that Kav scores for the other team.”
I finally get it. “Oh! He’s gay.” I cock my head at Eduardo. “Why didn’t you just say that?”
Eduardo just leans back in his chair and sips his OJ, amusement in the crinkles at his eyes.
“You’re very macho for a queer,” I say to Kavon. “I never would’ve guessed it. I bet you’re the plower, huh?”
He makes to reply, but then his deep-brown eyes shift to above my head and stay there. Jo’s and Eduardo’s do the same.
I’m about to turn to see what they’re all looking at when I feel a sudden heat at my back, lifting the hairs on the nape of my neck.
Something lands with a thud in the center of the table.
A black backpack.
At once, Kavon picks it up and upends it. Fat stacks of cash tumble out.
“Bonus time! Yeah!” Eduardo whoops. “Now, that’s what I’m talking about.”
Twisting around in my chair, I look up, and further up, settling on him.
Jaxon.
A frown bridges his brows as he stares down at Collin’s arm thrown over my chair.
God, he’s handsome. So well-groomed and deceivingly innocent-looking. His lush hair is all in place this morning, his eyelashes rich and dark.
He’s wearing a gray, knee-length coat, a deep-teal pullover, and black trousers.
Yum.
During his quiet and extended observation of Collin’s arm over my chair, everyone remains silent, as if waiting for something… I’ve no idea what.
After several weighty heartbeats, he murmurs, “No one’s ever safe with you, huh, Col?” Then, he jams his hands—no, fists—into his coat pockets and strides out of the kitchen, saying, “Have her ready for me in an hour.”
“Hell has frozen over,” Jo comments with arched eyebrows.
Kavon grunts as he sorts the stacks of cash.
Eduardo says indignantly, “How come you always get away with these things while I get my ass reamed?”
Collin just winks, but the easygoing playboy charm seems forced. Unease seeps through his fingertips, which are now drumming along my shoulder.
I’m not stupid. I’m aware that the general assumption is that Collin and I had sex last night. Which is understandable. I mean, Collin is like a platinum-haired Ryan Gosling times ten. A man like that doesn’t need to do anything but snap his fingers to get a girl to drop her knickers.
I woke up in his bed, I’m wearing his clothes, and he has his arm around me at the table. Of course I had sex with him.
Except I didn’t.
Collin, for whatever reason, has not bothered to debunk everyone’s assumptions. And for my own reason, I’ve not attempted to, either.
I should—to protect my virtue.
But, I like Collin touching me.
I also like the idea of people thinking a guy as delicious as Collin would willingly bonk a geek like me.
Nudging him, I ask, “When Jaxon says, ‘Have her ready for me,’ what does he mean?”
Collin studies me for a second, then jerks his chin at my almost-empty plate. “You done?”
I glance down. Eggs and toasts are still piled on it. “I don’t believe in wasting food.”
“Finish up, then. We’ll talk after.”
By now, Kavon has the bundles of paper-bound cash lined up in four stacks, some taller than others. Each bundle has, along with the dollar amount, the name of a person written on the top paper strip. He pushes one stack toward Eduardo, the lowest stack to Jo, another stack to himself, and the highest stack to Collin.
There’s a short moment of silence as everyone counts their bundles.
“Thirty-five,” Kavon announces.
“Thirty,” Eduardo follows with a grin, patently happy with his take.
“Fifteen.” A quiet grumble from Jo.
They all look to Collin and wait. He seems reluctant and uncomfortable as he shifts in his seat. “Seventy-five.”
“Holy shit,” Eduardo whispers.
“Why so surprised?” Jo asks Eduardo with an acerbic bite. “He usually gets the highest bonuses, doesn’t he? Nothing new in that.”
With a tsk, Eduardo shakes his head. “Don’t be like that, hermosa.”
“Like what?” she snaps. “He gets the bigger jobs and therefore the bigger bonuses. Plus, he always gets away with shit like screwing the boss’s hostage. You’re all thinking it. I’m just saying it out loud.”
“Don’t tell me what I’m thinking,” Kavon says as he pushes back his chair and gets to his feet. “Whatever Col gets, he earned. There are reasons Jaxon picks us for certain contracts, and you need to learn to respect that. We’re supposed to be a team. Stop what you’re doing, Jo. It’s not cool.”
Eduardo’s already nodding his head in agreement.
Collin stands, grabs my hand, and tugs me out of the kitchen, leaving his bonus behind. Once in his bedroom, he kicks the door shut, and leans back against it. “He wants you for a one-on-one interrogation,” he says, answering my previous question.
“I’m not frightened of Jaxon.”
“You’ve got no reason to be. Jaxon is anti-violence, anti-weapon, anti-rage, anti-every-damn-thing. Weird dude.” Collin chuckles. “Now, if you happen to be locked in a room with Kav or Ed…that’s an entirely different story.”
“If Jaxon is anti-everything, why do you all fret so much about how he’ll react to your misdemeanors?”
A shrug. “He’s the boss. He’s organized, calculating, and he hates sloppiness. He’ll replace any one of us in a snap before we become a liability.”
“Makes sense.” I give a twist to my lips. “Do you have any idea what he wants from me?”
“Not a clue.” Collin looks me straight in the eyes as he says it.
Which is all I need to be sure he’s lying.