Willing Captive

  Unable to stand the awkwardness any longer, I jump up and turn on the old-ass TV. Nothing but static. I mentally sigh. Of course there’s nothing but static. No one accused me of being lucky. Luck of the Irish, you ask? Nope. Not even that.

  Flipping through channels, I stop on the channel with the least amount of static and manually try to tune it. A few minutes pass but nothing helps, so I do what I do whenever something at home is broken.

  I beat the crap out of it.

  Slapping the sides of the TV, I urge, “C’mon, you piece of shit. Modern technology, my ass!”

  Nox chuckles and I say sternly, “You know, you can help me at any time. Don’t be shy now.”

  Then I smack the back of the TV. A little too hard.

  It falls off the stand and onto the floor. A loud bang resounds through the room. Looking down in shock at the now broken TV, I lift my wide eyes to Nox and shout, “Look at what you did!”

  Then he does something beautiful.

  He tips his head back and roars with laughter.

  And all I can do is watch in awe as his entire body shakes with hilarity while thoughts rush through my brain.

  How can a man who has been through what he has, still be able to laugh? Maybe Nox isn’t as damaged as I think he is. I’m an ass. I shouldn’t have labelled him. Ask him about it.

  Walking over to the bed, I throw myself back onto it, next to his still shaking body. Placing my arms behind my head, I sigh long and loud, “I’m so bored.”

  Nox nods but doesn’t say a thing.

  We lay next to each other as night falls, neither of is willing to move, quite comfortable in our finally broken silence. Feeling more confident, I ask, “What happened?”

  Obviously knowing this was coming, he breathes in deeply and replies on an exhale, “Got caught by the bad guy.”

  This explanation is not satisfactory. I’m nosey! I need more than that. “When?”

  “Few years back.”

  I’m confused. Turning my body to look at him, I say quietly, “But I thought you were the best.”

  Turning his head to the side, his icy blues search my face before answering just as softly, “It’s why I’m the best. I’ll never let that happen again.”

  Okay. I like that. That’s a totally acceptable answer.

  I nod to no one in particular and fade into the depths of my mind.

  Nox stands suddenly, “Damn. I forgot.” Then he walks over to his pile of dirty clothes and searches his cargo pants’ pockets. Pulling something small out, he walks over to me, flops back onto the bed and hands me the small silver device.

  When I take a closer look, I gasp, “No way! You had this the whole time?”

  Placing his hands back behind his head, he sighs, “Forgot. It’s Boo’s. Left it in my office.”

  Switching on the MP3 player, I place both of the earphones in and search the playlists that Boo has. It’s a great selection. Old music, new music, punk, rock n roll, pop, dance, metal, RnB. I reach a particular song and burst into laughter. Nox turns his head and narrows his eyes at me.

  Taking out an earphone, I shove it in his ear. “I think I found the song for you.”

  Pressing play, Highway to Hell by AC/DC plays and he smirks, nodding along to the beat of the song. When it ends, I select the random option and Clocks by Coldplay comes on.

  Nox grunts, “Change it.”

  I frown. “I like this song. It’s a nice song.”

  He scoffs, “Uh, yeah. No. Are you listening to the same song I am? Light going out, not being able to be saved, cursing missed opportunities?”

  Hmmm. I guess I never listened closely to the lyrics before. It is kinda depressing.

  Looking over at my crestfallen expression, he says, “See, I made my point. I’d rather attempt to slit my throat with a rusty spoon than listen to this. Change it.”

  So I do. The next song that comes on is Royals by Lorde. And I really like this song. Nox doesn’t say a thing, but I see his foot tapping along so I guess he likes it, too. But the subject of the song makes me uncomfortable. Turning the sound down to a dim whisper, I speak up to the ceiling. “We weren’t always rich, you know?”

  Nox turns to his side, supporting his head on his hand, acknowledging me and giving me permission to continue.

  I don’t dare look at him but continue my story. “We were just like everyone else. Things were different back then. Dad wasn’t so- so- obnoxiously overprotective. I had friends and I had a life. Then dad started working harder and bringing in more money, flipping companies like they were used cars he was selling. Then one day-” I snap my fingers. “It all changed. We bought that ugly monstrosity we call a home. Security was upped and Dad stopped letting me hang out with my friends. They got sick of asking me to parties ‘cause they knew the answer would be no. So they let me go. And I don’t blame ‘em. It’s hard dealing with my dad sometimes.”

  Nox makes a small noise. A grunt. Turning to him, I see his brows furrowed, lips pursed. He doesn’t look happy. Suddenly feeling the need to defend my father, I quickly add, “I mean it wasn’t all bad. Just lonely sometimes. So I fell into books. And I love reading. For a few hours, I can escape this world and fall into character. It’s a beautiful thing. I just don’t get what happened, is all.”

  Nox’s sudden intake of breath makes me focus on his face, which is suddenly poker-faced. I blink a moment before I gasp and whisper, “You know something.”

  He replies a little too firmly, “Lily, I know a lot of things.”

  He forgot to add ‘doesn’t mean I’m gonna tell you shit’ but it was implied.

  The song flips over to Massive Attack’s Teardrop and we both listen in quiet while watching each other. My eyes watch his face intently, his search mine softly. My eyes beg, ‘please, tell me something’. His argue, ‘you’re not ready.’

  Picking invisible lint off the bed covers, I plead softly but urgently, “I’m ready. Tell me. Please, Nox.”

  Shaking his head softly, he says, “Won’t see anything the same. Won’t see me the same. Just got your trust. Don’t need to go losin’ it now.” There’s that southern twang again.

  Lying to myself, I rush out, “It won’t change a thing. I trust you, Nox. I swear.”

  Scoffing, he asks, “What does ‘I swear’ mean to me? Nothin’.”

  “My word is my bond. If I swear to you, I’ll do what I can to keep my promise. I know it doesn’t mean shit to you, but in my family, it means something.” Desperate for answers, I reach over, take his hand and link our fingers. “Please, Nox. You’re the only one who can help me. My dad will never tell me.”

  Nox squeezes my hand but his face remains void. Such a tough nut to crack.

  Anger surges through me. “I’m almost twenty-three, Nox. I’m not a fucking child! Give me back my life! I deserve that much, don’t you think?”

  My anger must be contagious because Nox sits up suddenly and shoots a glare at me. My body jerks when without warning, he booms, “Having a life is overrated. If I were your dad, I woulda done the same thing, Lily. Is it fair on you? Fuck no, but you just don’t-”

  Stopping suddenly, he says sarcastically, “What do you want to know, princess?” He says princess like it’s a nasty word. Seething, he continues, “You wanna know how this isn’t the first kidnap attempt you’ve been through? You wanna know that last time, they actually fuckin’ got you? That your mom and dad almost lost you? What else? Oh, right! You wanna know about how the day I came to get you was the day I received a contract to kill you myself?”

  My blood runs cold.

  What did he just say?

  Still processing the information he just threw at me, he says softly, “Having a life is overrated. Trust me. There’s no life to live if you’re cold and dead. Your dad has his reasons. You gotta trust someone, Lily.” He barks a humorless laugh and runs a hand through his short hair, “Guess that’s not me anymore.”

  Call me stupid but what he just told me doesn’t affect me
trusting him. In fact, I think my trust in Nox just got stronger a notch. I never actually expected him to reveal so much.

  We stare at each other a while before I whisper, “I was in trouble and you came to get me?”

  Nox looks down at the brown shaggy carpet, nodding slowly.

  Scooting across the bed, closer to him. “Maybe just for one night we can pretend to like each other and call a truce.” He watches me through furrowed brows and I add a hushed, “Because I could really use a hug right now.”

  Not waiting for him to answer, I lightly push him down on the motel bed. And Nox lets me. His arms part a little and I fit my body between the crook of his arm and his hard torso, rest my head on his shoulder, and let out a relaxed sigh. Placing my hand on his chest, he pulls me closer to him and runs his hand through my hair gently.

  Thinking a million things at once, I feel the need to let him in on one of those thoughts. “I trust you, Nox. You won’t hurt me. I know it.” I whisper, “I trust you.”

  The hand at my hair stills a moment before he sighs, “Maybe you shouldn’t, Lily.”

  That falls on deaf ears. I know what I feel and, after all, I’m taking his advice.

  I’m going with my gut.

  ***

  Stretching into something firm, my eyes flutter open. I try to turn, but it seems this bed has seatbelts. Looking down, I see the seatbelt is actually a muscular arm cinched around my waist. Now that I’m a little more awake, I realize someone is breathing into my neck and wriggling closer to me. Deeper into my butt.

  When I hear Nox whine in his sleep, my eyes widen. I ask my brain, “Is that what I think it is?”

  My drooling brain replies, “It’s early, we have a hard-on pressed against our ass, and a delicious man in our bed. I’m out.” Then it disconnects.

  My heart races and I swallow hard. The polite thing to do would be to get out of bed. Now.

  But I’m so darn toasty that I just can’t find the will to do that. My brain quickly reminds me of another great excuse to not leave his strong arms. Nox hasn’t slept properly in an age. Not since I’ve known him. So, scratch that. I guess the polite course of action would be to let him sleep.

  Pressed up against me like I’m his giant teddy bear.

  A smile spreads across my face. I’ll never admit it to anyone, ever, but I like Nox. I don’t know what it is about him. For all I know, I have Stockholm syndrome.

  My brain rolls its eyes at me muttering, “Yeah. Whatever.”

  Okay. No. I don’t have Stockholm syndrome.

  I know that part of it is because he’s gruff, and honest, and downright mean. I suppose you could say that I appreciate the ‘real’ in him. Lord knows my life has been sheltered so much, it’s a wonder my skin isn’t so pale it’s transparent.

  My brain cheers ecstatically when his arms tighten around me a moment. Then he loosens his hold completely before standing quickly and making his way to the bathroom.

  Nuts.

  The shower turns on and I force myself out of bed. It’s no fun without him anyways. Standing up, I stretch, wearing only a huge ass Nox tank and my panties, which I cleaned in the bathroom sink, then rummage through the black bag. Leaning forward, my head snaps up when the bathroom door opens and Nox stands there wearing that tiny, skimpy towel again. I fight the urge to sigh dreamily and ask as steadily as I can, “Need somethin’?”

  Flicking his chin towards the black bag, he looks down at the tank I’m wearing a long moment before he replies, “Boxers.”

  Rolling up a black pair, I throw them at him, and as soon as he catches them, he slams the door shut.

  Curious as to what he was looking at, I turn my head to the side and look down at my oversized makeshift pajamas.

  Oh, for the love of- Great. Just great.

  Nox saw my sideboob.

  My cheeks flush. At least he didn’t see nipple. Just pasty-white side-boob.

  Side-boob won’t affect anything. What do I care? I’ve seen his bare ass. His mighty fine bare ass. I wonder what it would feel like. It looks like you could bounce a quarter off it.

  As my mind wanders, Nox opens the door and asks, “Want a shower before breakfast?”

  Wanting to get out of this confined space as quickly as possible, I spray myself with his deodorant before throwing it to him. He sprays himself and throws it back. I respond with, “Nah. Let’s go.”

  Slipping on my now clean workout pants, Nox stops me with the stink eye and an, “Uh, no.”

  “Excuse me?”

  Shaking his head, he looks down at my ensemble through furrowed brows. “You’re not going out like that, Lily. Put somethin’ else on.”

  I’m not quite sure what the problem is here. “What’s wrong with what I’ve got on?”

  Walking up to me, he pinches the bottom of the tank between his forefinger and thumb and announces, “This is not appropriate for down there.”

  Ha! I know what this is about now. I chuckle while shaking my head slowly, “Is this because of this morning’s side-boob?”

  His face turns confused. “Side- side-” Lifting his hands to his head, he rubs his temples slowly as if he’s getting a headache and mutters, “I’m not sure I wanna know, but what the fuck is side-boob?”

  Rolling my eyes, I respond, “So you saw the side of my boob. It’s all good. I’ve seen you’re your ass, so we’re even. C’mon.”

  Walking toward the door, Nox says firmly, “I’m serious, Lily. You’re not goin’ out like that. It’s just askin’ for trouble. Put on a damn bra.”

  Who knew Nox was a prude?

  I shoot back, “I don’t have a damn bra! If you remember, I didn’t exactly pack for this trip!”

  Visibly calming himself, he breathes deeply and replies on an exhale, “Fine. That’s fine. Then you’ll just have to wear another tee or somethin’, because I can see- see- your- uh- side-boob.”

  Score one: Lily.

  Smiling angelically, I take the tee from his outstretched hand. My fingers brush his and I ask sweetly, “Why didn’t you just say so then?”

  My brain claps and pulls an impressed face.

  Did I just flirt with Nox?

  ***

  Another big breakfast this morning goes down well. This time, I order the tomato and cheese omelet and it’s moist and fluffy. Just heavenly. Chasing that with Nox’s pancakes once again, and a glass of OJ, I watch while he orders yet another platter of sandwiches and flirts with the sweet waitress from the day before.

  Why doesn’t he flirt with me like that?

  I fight the urge to pout and let him drag me along. My belly’s getting the better of me again, half way there, he has to piggyback me. He says, “Maybe I should just buy you a wheelchair.”

  I can’t help but laugh and laugh right in his ear.

  It seems that food, mixed with copious amounts of horny, equals drunk.

  Which brings us to now. Third day in our little love shack. Minus the love.

  I’m secretly looking forward to going to bed tonight, just so I can feel those arms around me again. My mood has improved three-hundred percent. Nox’s by about thirty-seven percent.

  That’s a fact. Don’t question my calculations.

  A little joking over breakfast has set the speed for the day, and my heart skips a beat when I see him grabbing things from around the place. He puts some bills in his pocket and says, “Don’t go anywhere. Be right back.”

  But... but… what?

  “Where are you going?” I don’t even try to mask my fallen face.

  “Out. Be right back.”

  I’m suddenly fuming. “And what, Nox? I’m just meant to play the willing captive while you’re gone?”

  Confusion mars his face and he mutters, “What the f-” Shaking his head, he places a hand on his hip and utters, “Let me put this in a way you’ll understand.”

  Putting on his best bimbo, he bounces on his heel and says, “Like, tryna keep you safe here!”

  Biting my lip to stop
myself from laughing, his eyes darken as he strides over to me, trapping me between the door and his chest. He mutters, “Maybe you want that. Maybe you like the idea of being a captive. Being helpless.” Leaning forward, the tip of his nose brushes my earlobe and he whispers, “Does that turn you on, princess?”

  I’m not sure what’s happening here. My hormones have gone haywire and my brain is drooling again. I manage to whisper back, “Now you’re just being a jerk.”

  His body turns rock solid before he sighs, reaches for the handle, and leaves me in our honeymoon suite.

  Alone and lonely.

  Chapter Ten

  Absence makes the heart grow fonder

  Lily

  Three days have passed and I’m back in the safe house slash safe mansion slash pentagon.

  Not long after our close and extremely awkward encounter, Nox came back into our room and advised me to pack my shit. I told him I had no shit to pack.

  He responded with, “Great. Then you’re ready to go.”

  I asked, “Go where?”

  Holding my eyes, he replied softly, “Home.”

  And somehow, I just knew he meant my home away from home.

  In saying that, nine hours later, we were back. And it’s good to be home.

  Is it weird that I feel like this is home?

  No. I don’t think so. Not when we arrived back and Boo ran over to me, hugging the life out of me for a solid minute, stroking my hair like long lost sisters being reunited. Not when a seriously relieved looking Rock picked me up and swung me around, telling me, “Great to have you back, babe.”

  Nox spoke to them both for a moment in whispers and riddles, and I knew better to ask about what happened the day the alarms went off.

  Which brings us to now.

  Three days later and completely Nox free. Again.

  I have a feeling he’s avoiding me. Again. But I’ve been spending most of my time with Boo, and that makes me happy.