I’ve been in this room with Caleb for nearly three days now. I’m starting to wonder what the hell is going on. Three days, Euan said. Three days, and he was supposed to pay the money, and I walk free. Then again, I don’t exactly trust the word of a guy who would sell out his own girlfriend to a bunch of criminals as collateral. I won’t pretend I’m not hurt; I am. I would never say that Euan is the love of my life or any of that crap, but I thought he cared about me, respected me. I thought he was a decent guy. How wrong I was. Panic is starting to kick in now, and it feels as though the walls are closing in on me. I have to get out of these four walls.
Shit, what if I never get out of here? What about my job? My life? What if they kill me? It’s the waiting that’s killing me, the not knowing.
I glance at Caleb, sprawled casually across the small double bed. He’s wearing a football jersey and keeps intermittently yelling at the TV, watching some game. He’s completely absorbed in it. I study him carefully. He’s the typical American college kid with shaggy, dark hair and dark eyes. He’s good looking, albeit he is still rather wiry for his height, but I can already see that he will bulk out.
I hate to admit it, but he seems nice. He hasn’t given me one death threat. He seems genuinely concerned about my welfare, even though he clearly has no idea what to really do with me. I haven’t really spoken to him since we’ve been locked in here. I’m not going to acknowledge a guy who is aiding my captor. He doesn’t seem bothered, though. He’s perpetually chirpy, constantly trying to feed me, asking if I want to watch a film. He’s wearing me down without even bloody doing anything. I feel like I’m going mad. He obviously works for that maniacal psychopath, but he doesn’t fit in with a gang of murderous thugs like Jude and Rich. Why is he here?
“Yes!” he shouts at the TV.
I’m sitting on the floor with my back to the wall, trying my best to block out the irritating ruckus of the TV.
“Is it really necessary for you to watch this in here? Can’t you go and find another room?” I huff.
He shakes his head, his eyes never leaving the TV. “No can do, chick. I have to stay with you, but I also have five grand riding on this game. Not fucking missing it.”
“You do know that gambling is a fool’s game, right?”
He flashes me that wide, boyish smile of his. “Not when you’re a statistical genius. It’s all about calculated risk.”
“You’re a statistical genius, really?” I ask sarcastically. He looks like the quarterback. The attractive guy with nothing going on between the ears.
“Not me,” he chuckles. “Jude. He’s got to know exactly which odds are in his favor. He’s good at it. Really good.”
I frown, because I have no idea what the hell he’s on about, but I don’t want to talk about that bastard.
I steer the conversation away. “So, do you have any plans for your life, aside from working for that fuck-wad?” I’m genuinely curious. I can’t help but think that he’s better than this.
He glances away from the TV again and cocks an eyebrow at me. “I’m a paramedic,” he says, shocking the shit out of me.
“Wow, okay. So why the hell are you working for Jude?”
“You’re nosey.” His attention flicks back to the game. “I don’t work for him, well, not really. He’s my brother. I just help out. All this mess just comes with being part of the family.”
I gasp. “I’m sorry, you’re related to him?” I ask incredulously.
He nods, still not looking my way.
What the hell? How on earth can he and Jude possibly share the same genetic makeup? Jude is dangerous and scary as fuck, whilst Caleb is almost sweet. I don’t know, maybe that’s just what they want me to think. Maybe he’s every bit as bad as his brother. I look at his boyish face, and I just cannot summon even a fraction of the fear I feel toward Jude. Now that he’s said it though, I see the similarity in their features. The line of his jaw, the set of his nose, broad and straight.
“How unfortunate for you,” I mumble, and draw my legs to my chest.
He smiles. “You know, you really shouldn’t judge him. You don’t know him.”
“Oh, so he’s actually a really nice guy, I just caught him on a bad day?”
His eyes dart to mine, and his lips press together.
“Didn’t think so.”
“Either way”—his look grows stern—“you need to rein it in around him. I hear you’ve already pissed him off after just a few hours. Not good, chick. He’s not known for his patience, and he’s got one hell of a temper.” His eyes flick to my neck, which I know has now blossomed into deep purple bruises, my own personal reminder of just how short-tempered Jude is.
“Yeah, I noticed,” I remark.
“Yes!” he shouts again, fist pumping as he grins at the TV.
I glance at the set and see a sea of purple and gold going nuts.
“Did they win?” I ask, because I really have no idea what is going on.
He grins at me. “I just doubled my bet and won ten grand.” He rolls off the bed. “That is what happens when you have a bookie for a brother!”
Odds, statistics. Of course. A bookie! Oh fuck. He’s legitimately a gambling mobster. Holy shit.
By the time the evening comes round I’m climbing the bloody walls. I’ve been pacing the small room for the past half hour.
“You want something to eat yet?” Caleb asks, stretching next to the door.
I furrow my brows. “No, I don’t want anything to eat. I want to go home!”
Ignoring my request, he sighs. “You’re gonna to have to eat something, or you're gonna get me in trouble. It’s been three days. You must be starving by now.”
I groan and go back to pacing at the end of the bed. I am not going to stay here like some fucked-up guest. I do not want to be here, and I’m sure as shit not eating their food like a good little prisoner. I’d sooner starve.
He huffs and crosses his arms over his chest. “Okay, fine. I’m going to go downstairs and get some food. I’ll bring you some in case you change your mind.”
He turns and walks out of the room, closing the door behind him. I hear the click as he locks it from the other side. Guest rooms my arse. What kind of guest room has a lock on the outside of the door? These rooms are just glorified prison cells.
As soon as he’s gone I scout the room, frantically searching through all the drawers, under the bed...there must be something in here that I can use as a weapon. I eye up the chair in the corner. Maybe I could smash it and snap a leg off or something. What the fuck? As if I’ll be strong enough to break a chair. Who do I think I am, the Incredible Hulk?
I eventually give up. There’s not a damn thing in here that can help me. I hear the lock turning again, and I look up to see Caleb walk through.
He’s carrying a plate with a sandwich on it. “Okay, last chance, Ria. You sure you’re not gonna eat?”
I glare at him. “No, thank you.”
He shrugs and moves to the side. I spot movement over his shoulder. Glancing around him, I find Jude standing in the doorway, bracing his hands on either side of the wooden frame above his head. His hands are gripping the frame so tightly that his biceps strain from the effort. The position makes his t-shirt lift slightly, revealing a strip of tanned skin above the waist of his jeans. I can see the deep-cut V-lines dipping into his jeans.
I tear my gaze away from his body and up to his face, which is set in a mask of cold indifference as he watches me watching him.
“I think you meant to say that you were gonna eat,” he says, his voice low and deep, rumbling over my senses and making my skin break out in goose bumps. His presence sends a shot of adrenaline through my veins as my instincts tell me to run, but there is nowhere to run.
“I’m not hungry,” I say quietly. I feel like there’s a bomb in the room and it’s about to go off at any minute. That bomb would be Jude. He has that scary calm thing going on, and it’s more terrifying than any shouting.
Jude laughs. His arms slip down the doorframe as he bows his head. Shaking it, he glances back up at me, his eyes narrowing as one corner of his full lips quirk up. “Wrong fucking answer!”
Oh, shit. I start backing up before he’s even moved from the doorway.
He steps forward, quickly closing the space between us as his eyes lock with mine.
“I didn’t ask if you were hungry.” He steps closer to me, until I can feel the heat of his body towering over me. “Let me clarify for you. You.” Another large step, and I edge backwards. “Are gonna.” Then another. “Eat!” He dips his head to meet my eyes. “Aren’t you?” I watch as he reaches back to Caleb’s plate and picks up the sandwich.
“You can’t make me eat.” I stare him down, squaring my shoulders in an attempt to make my five-foot-four frame look bigger in the wake of his massive presence.
A slow laugh rumbles from his throat. “I can make you do anything I fucking want.”
He keeps walking toward me, and I keep backing up until I’m against a wall. This seems to be a common theme—him stalking me until I’m against a wall.
“Jude,” I warn, but it comes out as more of a plea.
“Woman, eat the damn sandwich before I shove it down your fucking throat.” He holds it up in front of my face.
He wouldn’t. I recoil even more, until I’m flat packed against the wall. “Fuck—”
He cuts me off by cramming the sandwich inside my mouth. Actually forces it in! Motherfucker!
“Fucking chew and swallow,” he says.
Could he be a bigger arsehole if he tried?
I chew only because I’m afraid if I don’t he’ll actually force my mouth open and close himself, but I make sure to scowl at him the entire time.
He turns back to Caleb. “How long has it been since she’s eaten?”
Caleb shrugs. “She hasn’t eaten anything since she’s been with me.”
Jude let out a low growl. “I told you to fucking watch her!”
“Which I did...what do you want me to do? I’m not gonna force her to eat.” He shrugs and leans against the far wall.
“God, you’re a fucking idiot,” he grumbles, before turning back to me. He leans closer to me until I can feel the heat of his body, his breath on my cheek. His hand winds around the back of my neck, holding me in place. He’s so close, his presence blocking out everything. I automatically surrender under his touch as my breath seizes in my chest.
“Don’t make me have to deal with you myself, Victoria.” The way he says my name makes something inside of me tighten. What the hell is wrong with me? His thumb brushes over my throat. “I’d really hate to mark that pretty skin of yours again.” His voice is guttural and harsh, but his touch is gentle. My heart hammers against my ribs like a rabid animal. What the hell is he doing to me? I’m scared of him, but part of me doesn’t want him to take his hand off me. His touch is warm and, dare I say, comforting?
Oh, my god. I think I’m having some kind of psychological break! Maybe being locked in this room has made me delusional. I frown and wrench my face away from his touch. He huffs a small laugh, clearly entertained by my warped state of mind.
He turns away from me and walks to the door. He grabs the handle, then turns to his brother and takes his index finger, pressing it to the middle of Caleb’s forehead. “Fucking watch her and if you have to tie her the fuck down, chew up the fucking food like a mother bird, and spit it in her fucking mouth, make her eat!”
“You are a fucking psycho!” I snap, narrowing my eyes at him.
His head snaps back around. “You have no idea, little girl.”
Pointing at Caleb one last time, he snatches open the door. “Don’t fuck around.” Then he turns away from me, leaving the room. The door slams shut, making the picture on the wall rattle. I hear the lock click with finality.
I eat half of the stupid sandwich, because the last thing I want is Mr. Personality coming back in here. I sit on the bed with my back to the headboard, and my elbows propped on my knees.
“I did try to warn you,” Caleb says, lounging on the bed next to me.
“I know,” I say quietly. My hands are shaking, and I can feel my eyes welling with tears. For fuck’s sake. The hopelessness of the situation is finally dawning on me. I know too much. Whatever happens, they aren’t just going to let me walk out of here knowing all that I know about their criminal enterprise.
“I’m never getting out of here, am I?” I say. “He’s going to kill me.”
“No, he won’t kill you.” He shakes his head adamantly.
Several tears slip down my cheek and I lean forward, resting my forehead on my knees in an attempt to hide my face. I don’t do crying. Crying solves nothing.
“Ah, shit,” he groans, and I feel his arm wind around my shoulders as he pulls me into his side. He doesn’t say anything, he just sits with me.
“I thought you were cool,” I sniff, trying to change the subject and rein in my pathetic tears. “You sold me out.”
He rolls his eyes. “Don’t give me that shit. You’ve gotta eat, you know?”
“So you told Mr. Fucking Understanding?” I pull out of his hold a little.
I like Caleb, and, weirdly, I trust him, but I can’t afford to get attached to him. He may be the friendly face of the operation, but he is still keeping me as a hostage.
He shrugs. “If you get sick, it’s my ass he’ll be kicking.”
“Okay. I’m going to make a deal with you,” I say.
He narrows his eyes. “Oh, uh-uh. No, no deals.”
“But you don’t even know what the deal is.”
He cocks an eyebrow. “I don’t need to make a deal with you, you’re a hostage. I should be the one offering you options, not the other way around.”
“Gee, thanks for pointing that out to me. As if I didn’t already know,” I grumble.
We sit silently for a few moments, then I hear him sigh, followed shortly by a groan. “What deal?”
“If you need me to do anything, just ask me. I would do anything, anything, to avoid having to deal with him.”
“He scares you, huh?” His brown eyes study mine.
I nod. “Yeah.”
“Okay, but, just so you know, we don’t deal with women. We don’t take hostages, so none of us really know how to handle this. This is not like him. He’s normally more...tolerant with women,” he explains. “I’ll try and keep him away from you.”
I flash him a small smile. “Thanks, Caleb.” I don’t hold out much hope, though. Jude seems to treat Caleb just barely better than he treats me.
“Pain in my ass,” he mumbles, laughing.
“Please, can we leave this room?” I whine.
Four days. We’ve been in this one room for four days. There’s a bathroom with a toilet and a sink, but no shower. Caleb gave me one of his shirts and a pair of basketball shorts yesterday, because he felt sorry for me, but I really don’t smell great. Apparently hostages don’t get to wash. At least I haven’t seen Jude since our little sandwich incident.
Caleb takes a deep breath and throws me an exasperated look.
“Pretty please.” I bat my eyelashes at him.
“Stop. You’re embarrassing yourself.”
“Caleb! I’m going to go bat shit bloody crazy if you don’t let me out of these four walls.”
“Jesus fucking Christ. You’re a pain in my fucking ass, girl.” He rubs the back of his neck. I can tell he’s contemplating it. His eyes raise from the floor and he narrows them on me. It’s obvious he’s trying to make himself appear hard and intimidating with that look, and it almost works, but I’ve spent too much one-on-one time with him to feel threatened by him. “I’ll take you out,” he says, “but you have to stay close to me. Jude will fucking crucify me if he knows I let you out of here, okay?”
I nod enthusiastically. “Okay.”
He casts one last semi-threatening look at me, and then signals for me to follow him out the door. We make our way through the corridor and down the stairs. I have no idea where we’re going. I survey everything, trying to commit the layout of the house to memory.
He leads me into the kitchen. “You want anything to eat?” I don’t miss the way his lips quirk as he says it. Bastard.
“Ha fucking ha.”
“Just checking.” He smile and grabs a packet of crisps from the cupboard before leading me back out of the kitchen. “Come on.”
We walk down a hallway until we come to an entrance hall. An entrance hall with a large stained glass front door, the same door I came in through. He keeps walking, crossing the hall into a lounge. There are several flat screen TVs, all of which are switched off. Caleb picks up the remote and turns on one of the TV’s. I see an opportunity, and I take it. I don’t think, I just act on instinct. I will not fucking die in this house. I pick up a lamp from one of the side tables and swing it at the back of his head.
Porcelain shards spray across the room, and Caleb grabs at the back of his head.
“Fuck!” he roars.
Before he can recover, I kick him in the nuts. His hands grab between his legs as he coughs and falls to his knees with a thud.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry!” I shout as I’m already running out of the room.
I sprint across the entry hall and throw open the front door. I don’t stop. I just keep sprinting. I catch sight of two men to the left of the door in my periphery. Fuck it. I’d sooner die trying than just give up. The gravel of the driveway bites into my bare feet, but I don’t care. Just keep running!
“Don’t fucking shoot her!” I hear Caleb’s voice somewhere behind me. “Don’t shoot her!” He sounds panicked and I don’t know if it’s because Jude is going to have his arse, or if it’s because those two men have rifles aimed at the back of my head, but I don’t really care. All I can focus on right at this moment is getting the hell out of here.
I can hear footsteps thundering behind me. I want to scream in frustration as I push myself to run just a little faster. I can hear them getting closer, and closer, until suddenly a weight ploughs into my back, sending me stumbling forward and crashing to the ground. My forehead smacks the sunbaked lawn, making my teeth jar together upon impact. The next thing I know some man is straddling me and pulling my arms behind my back. He holds both my wrists in one hand, and yanks me up by them, straining my shoulders until they feel like they’re about to be ripped from their sockets.
“That”—the man is panting from running after me—“was a very stupid thing to do,” he growls in my ear. Grabbing my hair, he jerks my head back. “Fucking walk.”
He shoves me back toward the house. Caleb is on the porch standing next to another guy who is shaking his head. Caleb’s face is white, and he’s hunched over. Guilt wracks me instantly.
The guy marches me up the steps, and all the while Caleb glares at me. I mouth “sorry” at him just as I’m dragged into the lounge and forced to sit on the sofa.
“Someone grab me some rope,” the guy holding me barks.
A few minutes later, and I’m bound and gagged. Again.
Caleb is pacing in front of me, biting his nails whilst continually shaking his head. Shit. This is so not going to be good.