Captivated (The Dragons) (2 page)

He'd gotten affirmations that he was
exactly
his father's son and could only go on to become trouble. Maybe it would have been different if Grandma had been more patient.

I sighed thinking about it, feeling even more deflated having turned my thoughts in that direction. She had her reasons for being cold, too. She'd lost... a lot because of Uncle Mickey.

I bristled at the sound of my captor calling out to someone off in the distance, and another frown crossed my face. How long was I going to be here? This wasn't the time-out corner. Vinnie had gotten me into some serious shit this time.

“Turn it up a few degrees, I don't think she's gonna use the blankets,” I heard him say, and despite my anger with him, I was relieved (and a fair bit warmer after another hour or so). The room temperature eventually leveled out around 70 degrees, and I was finally able to sleep, as a result.

It didn't take me longer than fifteen minutes to fall into the void that opened up when my eyes slipped closed.

––––––––

I
hated ringing the bell, well throwing the bell at the door,  but I did. I couldn't go without breakfast for a third day. It wasn't getting me anywhere, and I was weak. I felt like I was half-there, like someone walking between two worlds.

A smiling, scantily clad bar maid opened the door for me, her pretty eyes assessing me with a glance. She didn't ask even one question when she unlocked the metal mesh.

I stepped out from it, probably looking like death herself, and a sympathetic smile crossed her face.

“It's better to play along,” she said, and when I didn't respond, she left her efforts at conversational advice at that.

I followed her to the main door and out of it, my vision adjusting to the brighter lights of the warehouse hall beyond it. The bar maid checked for me, like she was turning to see if I was still standing, and I followed her down the hall to a door a series of steps that led us up a few flights, through a few halls, and into a lounge of some sort.

I couldn't tell immediately if it was a commercial establishment, but it was certainly set up to hold a good amount of people. Money had been soaked into it for sure. I guess whatever that warehouse was making or holding was bringing in a pretty penny.

The bar maid gave me another little smile as she led me to a table where several of the bikers were seated. He was sitting among them. And he said something to the rest of the group that had them dispersing as I approached. I could feel their eyes assessing me as they passed, but I didn't look up at them.

Instead, I frowned deeply for good measure and sat down without even meeting
his
eyes.

“What'll you have, babe?” The bar maid asked.

I looked to her and shrugged.

“You decide. I'm not picky.”

She exchanged a glance with my captor before returning her smile to me.

“We've got sugar-n-grits made. The cook even does fancy shit with tofu. Grab a menu if you want something else.”

“Thanks,” I answered with a clear lack of commitment. I really only wanted my stomach to stop growling long enough for me to regain a clear head. That wasn't going to happen if I didn't feed my brain.

“Sleep well?” My captor asked.

I couldn't help myself and met his eyes.

“What do you think?”

I was angry with myself the instant I answered, but it was done. I'd engaged to an extent when I should have been keeping that to a minimum. I was far from a seasoned criminal, but I knew a little something about psychology and had zero intentions of building a rapport with
any
of these assholes.

“You might be more comfortable in the bed.”

I ignored his comment completely, warming at the sight of the bowl of grits making its way over to me.

The barmaid, whose tag read “Sue” in embroidered cursive gave me a smile as she lowered it with a thin container of raw sugar. I stifled a laugh at the thought of health-conscious bikers and lifted my spoon.

“Thanks.”

“Sure thing, Cupcake.”

“You want anything, Link?”

“Coffee would be good.”

“Black and sweet?”

“You know it.”

I lifted my eyes to find him staring at me intently while the bar maid shuffled off to fetch “Link's” coffee. Raw Sugar and bikers named Link. Vinnie sure knew how to pick 'em.

“You know you're cousin owes us a lot of money, Darla.”

I spared him a glance before digging into my grits with relish. They were amazing, and the thought of the tofu kind of tugged at me as I ate them. Not a lot of people knew how to make it, but stranger things happened everyday. Maybe these boys knew their way around a soy block.

It was a wasted second-long fantasy. My pride would never allow me to ask for it.

“Someone's got to pay it back.”

My attention rose to him again, and I set my spoon down, lifting a napkin to pat my mouth with. He had my ears for the moment. If he was planning on whoring me out or something equally seedy I wanted him to look me in the eye while he handed down my sentence.

“Do you know what he stole from us?”

“Drug? Guns? Whores?”

The quarter-laugh again. I just tickled this guy, apparently.

“We run a very special lab here. Calling what we produce a drug is just... falling off the mark. It's all perfectly legal.”

“For now?”

His eyes lingered on me a moment before he answered that.

“For now.”

“So Vinnie stiffed you on your legal drug.”

“Pretty much. But only after he got hooked on it first.”

“So it's addictive, as well? Nice work, Link.”

He looked a little stung at the sarcasm in my tone, and I drew immediate satisfaction from it.

“No one here wants to hurt Vinnie, but he's crossed us. The debt has to be repaid, or we will find him. He talked a lot about you, so we considered-”

“Nabbing me and making me repay you nicely?”

Link's gaze lingered on me again, and he frowned, catching my meaning.

“We're not savages, Darla. The rumors serve us, but they aren't the whole reality. We'll allow you to work off the debt for him.”

“You say my name so casually, like you fucking know me.”

He eyed me squarely, and I had to admit to myself that I probably wouldn't win a staring contest with this guy.

“No disrespect intended.”

“How nice of you to extend a disclaimer. Let me get this straight. I get to work off my cousin's debt because, well, I'm related to him, and in your 'civilized' version of the world, that's how things get resolved?”

“We could make him pay for it with blood, but something tells me you wouldn't really want that, Darla.”

I turned my attention to my bowl, irritated that I couldn't at least eat it in the cell, away from the probing eyes of my captor. He was so... smug that he didn't even appear smug. It rattled me. I didn't have the strength to fight with him right then, though.

I raised my head and met his eyes when I felt them sweep over me.

“You dye your hair like that?”

Was he serious?

I spared him a “look” and returned to my business with the bowl of sugar-n-grits the bar cook made for us before the doors opened. I'd be back in “the cage” by the time any regulars poured in, and I was determined to make peace with it.

“You know, you can't keep sleeping against the wall like that. There's a bed in there for a reason.”

“I have a bed at my apartment.”

I didn't look at him once or say another word after that. My full interest was on clearing my bowl of grits and getting out from under his intensity. I refused to wind up with that Stockholm syndrome shit, and I was sure guys like him could bring it out of almost any woman they set their sights on.

It was pretty clear that he'd altered the way he was looking at me. The comment about whether or not I'd dyed my hair this black was clue number #5. There had been others. The way he trained his attention on my lips when he spoke to me, and the sultry look he gave me when he asked pointed questions we both knew I wouldn't answer.

It almost seemed like he was flirting at the edges of some twisted courtship dance, and I didn't appreciate the shit. He'd all but admitted he'd smash my cousin's face in if he had the chance. How could I possibly find him attractive after that?

I guess whether I could or couldn't wasn't exactly the point.

The point was: I wouldn't.

If my stomach betrayed me when his gaze swept mine, and I felt his eyes on my skin with a tell-tale tingling that told me he wanted me to look up and engage with him directly, I'd resist.

If he stepped into my personal space an inch too far, and his lips hovered just close enough to mine that I could lean in and take the kiss he was so obviously offering, I'd find something interesting on the floor to look at.

Vinnie was my family, and even if his stupidity was the entire reason I'd found myself in this situation, I wasn't going to become a whore for his enemies. I couldn't do that. I wouldn't.

I dropped my spoon into the bowl with a clank.

“I'd like to go back to my cell now.”

––––––––

––––––––

I
was escorted to a shower and given a lush, wine colored towel after I was done cleaning the last few days off of me. I found a box waiting in the hall outside of the showers and peeking into it, I saw that they'd taken the time to gather some of my clothes.

As they had been in my fucking apartment.

Flames coursed my veins, but I bit back the anger and lifted the box in hand.

“Come with me,” the gentle giant instructed, and this time, he led me to an actual room without metal mesh closing off the bed.

I lowered my box to the floor with a frown and turned to glare at the giant who quickly averted his eyes and seized the opportunity to step out of the room, closing the door behind him with a locking click.

So I'd been brought up to a prettier cell. Maybe they needed the one downstairs for the next kidnappee.

I jumped when a door to the other side of the room opened, and my eyes met Link's. He was careful to keep his gaze trained above the towel, and I noticed he had a pile of books in hand that he crossed the room to deliver to the desk in my swanky new cell.

“Start with these, and we'll talk about how you can pay off the debt and go home.”

“You're not fucking serious.”

All bets were off now. Did he truly think I was going to just stop my life to
study
whatever the hell was in those books?

“I have a job. A life.”

“At the university store? Isn't that per diem? They haven't called your cell phone. Neither have any male friends.”

“Would you have given me the message if they had?”

Link's eyes lingered on me. “Yes.”

“Rich.”

I lowered myself to the bed, the fact that clean linens were piled up on top of it not lost on me. At least Link had regained his senses. Hopefully this bed hadn't seen too much action. It looked new. That was at least a comfort.

Link gave me a lingering stare before he backed out of the room.

“Knock on the wall if you need anything.”

I continued to stare at him with disbelief until he disappeared from the threshold altogether and closed the door behind him. It was almost worse than being enclosed in metal mesh. There were two exits, and I couldn't get out of either one.

I scanned the room around me for anything that looked like it might hide a micro-camera and opted to pull a pair of panties and leggings on beneath the towel. I didn't remove the towel until I had a shirt on over it. It was easy to affix a bra beneath the shirt.

Messed up way to have to dress, but I hadn't given anyone my permission to partake of my nudey bits with a camera trained on me somewhere.

I sulked until what felt like noon (there wasn't a clock in the room; I'm guessing here) and then I dragged my feet over to the books, pulling up the stool in front of the desk. It was a sparse desk, with a pencil holder containing a singular pen, a note pad - I supposed was meant for me to takes notes with, and the books Link had just dropped on me.

Giving the books an ailing glance, I lifted the cover on the first and skimmed the words on the intro page. Flipping through several more pages, I realized what I was reading. It was a bestiary of plants and experiments written in an old-style with impressive drop caps heading the chapters that focused on the author's casual detail of experiments with a number of obscure plants aimed at the same thing, apparently.