His Captive, The Unabridged Collection: Billionaire Dark Romance (17 page)

“Oh, I think you gonna want to hear this. You seemed so lonely. I mean, you should know… There are people looking for you. You don’t have to be lonely, Julie. Did you know that?"

I shook my head again, harder than before.

“Like, you got a little brother don't you?”

“No.”

“Oh yeah you do. Don't lie. I can't fucking stand liars.”

His eyes went all bright and gleaming as he came up right next to me. He was only inches away, and I couldn't be sure if that was because he hadn't decided what to do yet, or he knew what Rafe would do to him once he did decide.

“Liars can get a man killed you know,” he snarled in my ear. His breath was oily and fetid. “Liars can ruin a man's whole life and just make him
wish
he was killed.”

No. That's not right.

“Because what I heard… I heard your mama is still looking for you. I heard… Well, let me see if I got this straight.”

He stepped back a half step, cocking his head to the side theatrically and hanging his knuckles through his belt loops. He screwed his mouth up as though he was really trying to formulate the words, to frame it all up.

“I heard… That you had the hots for your mama's man, is that right?”

I shook my head.
No
.

“Oh yeah, that's what I heard. I heard you were quite the little whore. Even your mama says so."

He squinted at me, measuring my response. I gave him nothing, but my heart banged my chest like it wanted out.

"And when you couldn't have him, you made up some story about how he used to…” His eyes covered my body in a figure eight and he twirled one finger in the air, pointing lewdly at my sex. “You know…
Interfere
with you?”

“No, that's not what —”

“— and when nobody gave a shit about a little liar like you, you bounced around, grifting on just anybody who would fall for your sob story?”

“Bronson, let me go.”

“Yeah, let's go… How about we go tell Rafe all about you right now? Hm? Because I think he would be real interested to know about Ricky… About your mama…”

He slid closer to me again and my hands went up automatically, slapping hard against his chest and pushing him back.

His eyes flew wide, and a smile stretched across his face like a scar.

“Oh ho ho! You want to play, Julie? Because I would just
love to play
with you, baby. And I will not let you off so lightly this time.”

“Bronson, let me out of here!"

I pushed past him, jamming my shoulder under his arm and trying to leverage my weight so that I would at least have a have a second to break away. He whirled around and snatched at the back of my dress, dropping me hard to the floor on my knees. My hands slapped so loudly against the marble that I could instantly feel my palms bruise.

“Maybe you're right,” he hissed, instantly behind me and on top of me, his lips brushing against the back of my ear. “Let's go find Rafe… Tell him what you are. Let's tell him he's got another little murderer to take care of —”

"— I am not!"

I twisted violently underneath him, throwing my knee against his hip and sliding away. I tried to crawl on the tile floor but his hand snapped around my ankle like a shackle. He dragged me back, my skin squeaking as the marble scraped at it like a rasp.

When I was closer to him, he shifted over me almost faster than I could see. I was pinned down underneath him with his bony hips digging against my belly and his cock throbbing insistently on my thigh.

“RAFE!” I screamed.

Bronson's fingers clamped over my jaw, forcing my mouth open and his palm between my teeth. I bit down as hard as I could and he jerked back, his hand instantly curling into a fist that I barely dodged before it cracked against the marble right next to where my head had been. He yelled in pain and rolled halfway off me but not before clapping his fingers around my ankle again so that I couldn't get away.

Panting, twisting, I kicked mercilessly at his hand but he lengthened his arm and turned his head to the far side, taking a few seconds to catch his breath while I was too far away make contact with my flailing feet.

“Little murderer,” he gasped, somehow managing to laugh. “Little fucking bitch whore murderer. You think Rafe is going to want you? You shoulda been on his table this whole time, you bitch. How many more lies you think he's going to stand for?"

I bit back a scream that wanted to explode out of my mouth.
Murderer
. What was I going to say? Trying to convince him would mean admitting half of what he said had at least a sliver of truth. But I couldn’t give him an inch, no matter what. It wasn't my fault.

Bronson had half a story, the only half my mother would have been able to tell. It sure sounded like he really had found her. And if he found her, that meant pretty soon she was going to find me.

I have to leave. Now.

I had to get away from Bronson but I had to get away from Rafe too. There was no one left to stand up for me, who even knew the rest of the truth. Aunt Rinna was maybe the only person who ever even tried. She kept taking me in even though I kept doing the worst things. I stole her money. I destroyed her car when I was 14. I cost her a whole crop of alfalfa one year when I set the seed on fire smoking in the barn.

I swore relentlessly and wouldn't go to church or school and cursed her name and called her the foulest things I could think of over and over again. And yeah, she sent me away a few times, but she always took me back. Always sorry, always striving to be more patient. And every time she put her hand out to me I bit it again and again. Maybe not right away, but eventually I bit the fuck out of it.

That last time that I woke up in my room with Ricky crawling up from the bottom of my bed, a fog of cheap beer and cigarette smoke about him, his dick hanging out of his pants, dripping and ready... Rinna was there. I woke from a dream to find him straddled on top of me with one hand clamped over my mouth. Aunt Rinna must have heard me cry somehow and when I glanced over I could see the silhouette of her in her long, modest nightgown as she stood in the open doorway. She didn't say a word and silently left. In less than ten seconds back she was back, and the next thing I heard was the cock of the shotgun.

And then I don't really know. I ran out of the room before I heard the blast. I ran down the stairs and through the front parlor and onto the front porch.

All I wanted to do was set his car on fire. It seemed fair to me at the time. It was a baby blue Impala that was always supposed to be mine. Rinna had it in her barn for decades and told me when I was little that I could have it when I was 16. Before I got old enough, my mother gave it to Ricky. When I ran onto the porch and saw it there, shining under the single security light hung from the corner of the barn, I don't know what I thought. Rinna had stood up for me. It gave me courage.

So when the car went up in flames, I felt a burst of pride after a whole lifetime of helplessness. I cast my eyes back to the house and waited, knowing eventually Aunt Rinna would come to the porch. And then we could finally, really understand each other. I wanted to thank her for what she had done for me.

But she didn't come, or else she didn't come back in time. Too fast, the flames from the car’s backend caught something in the trunk that wanted to explode. That belched an arc of fire onto the porch and through the open windows to the heavy drapes. And then everything else just went up like it was made of kindling. Nobody ever came out.

I stood there waiting as long as I could, screaming against the darkness for Rinna to find me. When I heard the sirens on the road, I knew exactly what they were going to think. What people always thought. The worst.

So I ran and ran and ran, figuring out what I needed to do along the way. I thought I was getting better at it. I thought they might've forgotten about me. But they were still out there. Now the only people left were people who hated me. And the only person who could defend me was just ash.

I let my head fall back heavily on the tile and stared up at the checkerboard pattern on the ceiling.

“There must be a thousand Julie Hatner's,” I said, my voice suddenly and strangely calm.

Yes that's right. I could be anybody. I could be nobody.

Bronson coughed into his hand, hocking up something that sounded thick and yellow.

“A liar is a liar is a liar, Julie. You can't believe a fucking word they say.”

“I don’t care if you believe me or not,” I said robotically.

I am nobody. Nobody.

The thought was almost pleasing. I could just drift away again. Maybe next time not do something as dumb as giving my real name to the police, for pete’s sake. Why did I do that anyway? Unbelievably stupid.

I did it for him. Absolute honesty.

I pulled myself back up to sitting as a surge of determination washed through me. Aunt Rinna was not the only person who had ever understood me. There was one more. And I needed to be with him. Right now.

“Let me go," I said loudly.

Bronson rolled over onto his side, letting one hand fall casually and tapping his fingers on the floor. He squinted and pursed his lips thoughtfully.

“You're not allowed in there,” he said, sneering.

I shrugged. “That's not what he said yesterday.”

Bronson's eyebrows twisted together. “The fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“It means… I do what he tells me,” I said simply. Bronson's fingers flicked open distractedly as he shook his head, trying to piece it together.

“No way… No way, you didn't —"

I stood up, primly snapping at the fabric of my dress and rearranging it neatly over my body.

“I do what he tells me,” I repeated with a small smile.

Bronson got his heels underneath him and pushed himself up to standing. He paced several steps back and forth rapidly.

“The fuck you talking about? This is over,
over
, do you understand me? This is
done
.”

I shrugged casually with one shoulder. I could almost feel Rafe’s presence in the room, protecting me.

“I don't see why it should be,” I said reasonably. “Rafe is doing a public service. He does what he has to do. You should understand that."

Bronson's hands flew up and his mouth gaped open in shock.

“Do you even know what you're saying? Do you know what goes on in that chapel?"

“I do.”

“And he—” Bronson pointed one finger at me, then let it drop. A montage of emotions flickered over his face, and then he peered at me through narrowed eyes. “Wait, you think he's doing this because he has to.”

I said nothing, merely letting my head fall to one side as though I was impatiently waiting to be allowed out of the room and back to the side of my man like I was supposed to be.

“Oh… That is what you think, isn't it? Yeah well… It maybe started out like that. After my sister and Gemma… But it ain't like that anymore, and you want to know why?”

I stood as still as a statue.

“Why? Because the big finale, the
big show
got interrupted by some lying whore who got herself seen with Rafe! Who got herself all tied up in shit she has no right to be! What was supposed to be over…”

He waved his arms helplessly at his sides. I refused to be moved by any of it. Finally he just dropped his hands, disgusted, and threw his head back.

“Oh, yeah, you think you're the fucking princess now, don't you? Well guess what, Rafe made promises to other people too, okay?”

He stabbed the air in my general direction. Shiny patches of sweat had broken out irregularly on his pocked forehead.

“Yeah, he made promises! And this shit show is over! Okay? Your services are no longer needed, little lying fuck whore, because I delivered the
real thing
!”

I crossed my arms, gently resting my fingers against my elbows. Bronson stared at me with hate in his eyes for several seconds too long, long enough for me to figure out what he was saying.

“If it needs to be over then
fine
,” I said, then faltered. “Wait. If it's over then… How… you mean...?"

A sideways grin stretched over one half of his face and he pulled his upper lip back to show the black, pitted gums.

“Oh yeah, that's right. Show’s over now, honey.
Rachel's here
.”

As I ran to the chapel my heart fluttered so fast against my ribs that I thought it might give out.

Bronson ran just behind me on my heels, his toes scraping against me as he dogged every step. He wouldn't stop laughing. He just wouldn't stop.

I pulled hard at the wide white door and then stood there when it swung open, trying in vain to catch my breath. My mind was drowning in thoughts and images and I was afraid I was too late.

“You want to say goodbye?” Bronson hissed in my ear. “You better ask nice before you go in there. Don't want to make your man angry now, do you?”

I didn't want to do anything that Bronson said but I knew he was right. I stood on the balls my feet with my hands splayed, trying to center myself, trying to make sense of what I was seeing.

Rachel was strapped tight to the gurney, still apparently unconscious. I could see only the top of her head, her long, golden hair streaming off the end of the gurney like a banner. The strong beam of light bounced off her skin and glowed like a halo that covered her whole body.

Slowly I crept around the outside edge of the room. Bronson hung back in the doorway, apparently unwilling to intrude on the ritual. His eyes glittered from the shadows as he watched me, and I could see him nodding his head, sarcastic and sneering.

Rafe was on the other side, his back facing me, bent over the array of tables as he had been yesterday. His hands floated above the blades reverently. Though he must have known I was there, he gave no sign.

I held onto the wall to steady myself and stared, wide-eyed at the scene. Rachel breathed deeply, her chest rising and falling against the thick strap that covered her naked breasts. Her hands hung limp in the smaller cuffs. Her fingers were long and elegant, almost dainty, dwarfed by the large leather bindings.

I heard Bronson suck his teeth from his position by the door and ignored him as best as I could. I silently called out to Rafe, hoping our connection would let me reach him.

But the line was dead.

Slowly he turned, holding a clear plastic IV bag and a coil of tubing. He looped the bag over the stand and then drew the tubing out. For a long time, he held the hollow needle in his fingers and simply stared down at her. He looked curious, almost bemused. Then he drew a deep breath and plunged the needle into a vein above her narrow wrist.

The look in his eyes said it all. It was far more intense than the one he wore when he stood over Micah Humboldt the night before. Rachel was his great prize, the one he'd been after. He looked almost ecstatic.

I found myself hoping that he would simply take her quietly, mercifully while she was still half asleep. I saw his hand in his pocket, slowly turning the folded knife over, the bulk of it visible through the thin fabric. I knew exactly what he intended, and that there was absolutely nothing I could do to stop it.

After just a few seconds, I saw her hair shake back and forth. She was moving her head. A dry noise came softly through the bolt of knotted fabric that held her jaws wide apart.

Standing up straight, Rafe crossed his arms over his chest. Slowly he raised one hand to knuckle thoughtfully against his chin, then seemed to make a decision. With an elegant flick, he pulled the cloth from her eyes.

His fingers opened the gate on the IV then paused. He peered curiously at her, and then notched the gate open a little bit more. In moments I saw her eyelids fluttering prettily against her cheeks. Her lashes were downy and dark and I watched her open and close her eyes several times, the bright blue swimming up into her head as she tried in vain to command herself to focus.

"That's it, now," Rafe whispered. “You can do it, Rachel.”

I shook my head. It was all wrong. I knew what he wanted to do to her and it seemed so real, too real. I had just been living in her house. I had just been wearing her clothes. This couldn't be happening.

A strangled sound swelled in her throat, she pushed her head back, straining. Her eyes opened wide and looked all around, finally landing on Rafe who nodded once and then backed away, out of range.

I have to make him stop. He has to stop.

Her body seemed to be coming back to life piece by piece. First her shoulders rocked against the table, and then her hips twisted in place, her light brown pubic triangle gleaming under the surgical lights. There was something almost pretty about it. The lights were so bright she had no flaws. No wrinkles, no blemishes. She looked like she was made out of some kind of glowing, angelic marble.

Rachel managed to raise her head enough to see Rafe as he approached before it fell back to the table with a heavy thunk. Every part of me was screaming to save her, to do something, but I was frozen in place.

“You knew this was coming, Rachel.”

He slid his fingers through her hair, staring down at her with a mocking smile. “You should have left when you had the chance, but you just had to stay and watch, didn't you? You just had to play your little games.”

She shook her head frantically, as far as the bindings would let her.

“You thought you were so clever, calling the police to my home, hm? I'll bet you were
more
than pleased with yourself. What did you think was going to happen, hm? Did you think they would search my home?
My
home?”

Rachel strained against the strap that covered her forehead. Her shoulders shook. Her muffled cries twisted around the gag and Rafe cocked his head thoughtfully.

“Actually I really would like an answer to that. Now… try not to scream.”

Plunging his fingers into the void behind her neck, Rafe loosened the gag deftly. It fell to the side, leaving her open-mouthed in a pantomimed howl. For several seconds she worked her jaw back and forth, trying to command it into speech.

She spoke with a venom and desperation I'd never heard from her. “You...
took my friend!
”

It seemed like the effort of the pitiful half-scream took every bit of energy she had, and she went completely slack, staring up at him. Her pink tongue poked out over her lower lip and I fought the desperate urge to find water for her.

“Come now, Rachel. You don't have any friends. You know that.”

Her chest heaved the moment he said it, and she began quietly sobbing.

“Why... why would you say that? I loved her, you sadistic fuck. I took care of her…. What did you do with her?”

Rafe looked to me then, holding out an arm, beckoning me. Slowly, I unrooted myself from my position and moved to stand beside him, looking down at Rachel. I couldn't tear my eyes away from her pained expression, the terror written all over her face. Tears streamed down her cheeks freely, bright as comet paths in the lights.

When she laid eyes on me, it all stopped. Not a single tear fell, and her face hardened to stone. She stared at me for a long moment. Her nostrils flared, and she let out a short, barking laugh.

“You're still alive. Holy fuck, Jolie. You can't fucking do
anything
right.”

I stood in shock, staring down at her as she began pulling against the bindings again. She ground her teeth together and yanked against every leather strap, getting nowhere. The table trembled. My mind struggled to understand, to believe what I was hearing.

“Let me go, you sick fuck, let
me fucking go!”
Rachel howled in frustration, shutting her eyes tightly as she struggled against the bonds.

Rafe stroked my back, staring down at her with a strangely passive contempt.

“I know what you were thinking,” he said to me softly as we watched Rachel twisting futilely in her straps. The table pivoted as she threw her weight back and forth. “You wanted me to let her go.”

I hesitated, then nodded and leaned back into his touch. He seemed like the only thing keeping me upright and I was grateful for the strong hand at my waist.

“I
do
want you to let her go.”

Rafe pivoted to the front of me and I looked up into his coal-black eyes, hard as obsidian. Confusion twisted his brow.

“Didn’t you hear her?”

I nodded.

“And did you
understand
, Julie?”

I nodded again.

“She… it sounds like she sent me here,” I choked, the words turning to shards of heartbreak in my chest. “She wanted me here.”

Rafe blinked hard then set his jaw, the muscle knotting so fast it was a twitch.

“Julie, she wanted me to think you were her.”

I shook my head, but the thoughts wouldn’t stop. How could this be happening like this? And yet, there it was.

“I know. I mean… Yes, I guess I know.”

“She is… wretched. Beyond wretched. She’s a cancer!”

His voice rose as he spoke, becoming more clear. I heard Rachel go still behind me and knew she was listening to every word.

“But she’s not the one who hurt your wife,” I said very quietly.

Rafe released me so suddenly it was like he pushed me away. He took several steps, then paced back, tearing his hands through his now sweat-clicked hair.

“Julie, you don’t understand. Rachel is cut from the same cloth. She is part of…” he groaned, shaking his head miserably. After a few deep breaths, he began again, calmer. “My... late wife, Gretchen. She had a problem. A very serious problem. A problem caused by a woman whose name I'm sure you've heard. Gemma.”

I nodded. “Rachel said that was who taught her how to do... what she does, yeah.”

“Gemma had connections. She had drugs. She fed my wife's habit, turned her... into a husk of the woman I'd fallen in love with. I tried everything to help her keep clean. I first restrained her in her room. I thought time and isolation would give her strength. But Gemma took some perverse pleasure in plunging her deeper into addiction. I couldn't figure out why Gretchen seemed to be getting worse and worse, but... I discovered before long that Gemma had been coming through the window, administering the drugs herself. She was relentless, and she pushed my wife down a spiral that ended with her death.”

The fact locked into place, as though it was the tumbler on a safe that I hadn’t been able to open until now.

“So… you weren’t trying to keep Gretchen in? In her room?”

He shook his head violently, then raised his chin to stare helplessly at the ceiling.

“In the end… was there a difference? I thought I was keeping Gemma out, but the result was…”

His voice trailed off, and I stepped toward him with my hands out. His pain was so large, it filled the room like a sound. I wanted to heal him.

Rafe paused for a moment, taking a shaking breath before looking away from the ceiling, meeting my eyes intensely.

“Gemma was the first. She was a vile woman, undeserving of the gift of life. But how many festering wounds like Gemma walk free, ruining lives? Who will stand against them? Rachel is only one among many, though... she is special, being Gemma's little helper.” He looked back to Rachel. “Isn't that right?”

Rachel stared through him with pure, burning hatred. “Fuck you! I didn’t even know Gretchen! I was just… You don’t even understand what it’s like for women like us. Gemma kept me from worse, so much worse!”

“I never said that she didn’t,” he replied calmly. “I can only imagine what you could have been if she hadn’t harnessed your… talents.”

“She took me in. Like I took you in, Jolie, remember? Remember?”

I nodded automatically. She had. I had always been grateful. But one sidelong look from Rafe made me stop up short. She had played me. He wanted me to remember that most of all.

Rachel’s eyes rolled around, trying to catch sight of me. I was just out of reach to her, and resolved to stay that way. When our eyes met I couldn’t help but be moved, even after all this. Irrationally, I wanted there to be some other explanation.

After a few more seconds, she snorted in disgust and started banging her heels against the table.

“Please try to relax, Rachel,” Rafe said smoothly. “You’re only hurting yourself.”

“Oh fuck you!” she snarled through her gritted teeth. “You're not some saviour, you're
sick
. You get off on killing, don't you? I guess you didn't kill Jolie because she was too fucking pitiful, right? Is that it? You couldn’t get off on someone so goddamn pitiful?”

Rafe fell silent, staring down at her.

“Rachel,” I whispered. Her eyes cut toward the direction of my voice and then she looked stubbornly at the ceiling. “You really did this?” I continued, my voice faltering. “You really… I mean, dressing me in your clothes, saying that I was you… You did all that?”

She barked a disgusted laugh, shaking her head as much as she could against the strap. Somehow, even tied to the table she seemed regal, defiant.

“You know what, Jolie? You really are pathetic.”

I calmly reached into Rafe's pocket and wrapped my fingers around the folded knife, bringing it out and extending the blade. My hands shook, my face burned, tears stung the corners of my eyes.

“And did you see me, Rachel? Did you watch?”