I started crawling over him, but he just laughed and brought one of his arms down to restrain me. “Since when are you impatient?”
“Since you brought cheesecake, damn it!” If he didn’t release me soon, I was about to go full baby-mode and start making grabby hands toward the dessert; maybe I’d even cry. “Please!”
His rich laugh filled the room, and he barely grunted when I punched him in the side. I managed to wiggle my way a few more inches up his body and didn’t even notice his laughing had stopped; because at the same time, the arm around me stopped restraining me, and just simply held me.
Which meant I could make another grab for it.
I dug my knees into the concrete floor and pushed myself closer, and nearly cried in victory when my hand grabbed the cheesecake right out of the container and brought it to my mouth. I took a huge bite out of it and moaned before rolling off Taylor. Not caring to go back to my mattress, I stayed there, on my back, and finished my cheesecake.
It was so fucking delicious I wanted to cry.
Turning my head to the side, I smiled at Taylor, but the smile slid from my face when I noticed him watching me intently with those dark eyes.
“What?”
His eyes seemed to focus, and he shook his head and turned it to look at the ceiling. “Nothing, just didn’t know a simple piece of cheesecake would turn you into a crazed fiend looking for their next fix.”
“Hmm, next time, Ben and Jerry’s. It’s like water for me.”
“Ice cream”—he huffed a laugh and sat up—“got it. Now come back here and eat real food, or are you not hungry anymore?”
“Does it matter? I got what I wanted,” I said with a smile.
“Yeah, I noticed that,” he said so softly that if I hadn’t been passing him to get back to the mattress, I wouldn’t have heard him.
I sat across from him, and like he always did, he waited for me to start eating before digging in himself. Other than a few jokes from him when he began eating his own slice of cheesecake, we’d eaten in silence. He’d had a faraway look all through the pasta, and even when we were both done and talking about nothing again, he kept averting his eyes from me. I was dying to ask what he was thinking, but I’d learned from Kash that if someone wanted you to know something, they’d tell you.
So I bit down on my tongue and let him continue to act like there wasn’t a weird charge between us that just thirty minutes before hadn’t been there.
When we got back that night from my evening trip to the bathroom and to take a shower, I’d crawled onto the mattress and grabbed for my journal.
“Can you keep the light on for a while? I want to finish writing.”
Taylor’s hand dropped from the light switch on the wall and he sat down in front of the door. “What is it you’re always writing?”
“Uh—”
“Do you write songs or poetry? Or do you just write?”
I knew he was trying to get rid of the awkward vibe we’d had between us the last couple hours, but this wasn’t something I was willing to share with him. “It’s kind of personal,” I said softly and glanced up to see if I’d offended him.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t think about that, I’ll let you get back to writing.”
“I . . . I just don’t usually talk about it.”
“You don’t have to explain, it’s—”
Suddenly the lights went out, and we both went silent. I heard Taylor stand up and the door open, but for the first time, no light filtered in from the hall. “Rachel, do not move. If anyone other than me walks in here, scream, you hear me?” he whispered.
“Yeah.” I put my journal back down and crawled to the back of the mattress. I was shaking, but it wasn’t in fear. Some part of me was imagining Kash and Mason cutting the power and coming to rescue me. It was ridiculous, and so silver screen . . . but I couldn’t help it. It had been twenty-two days since Taylor had brought me the journal, which meant I had been gone for over a month. After that amount of time, I was allowed to have silly fantasies of being rescued.
“Rachel, it’s me.”
I frowned when Taylor’s voice filled the room.
“There’s a really bad storm and the power is out, at least on this street.”
“Oh,” I said dejectedly.
“Come on, we’re gonna go to my room.”
My head snapped up, and I could make out the shape of his body in the doorway but nothing else. “What? Why?”
“Because this room needs power to lock, mine doesn’t. So come on, let’s go.”
I stood and walked the few steps over to where he was, and with my hand stretched out in front of me, waited until it bumped into him. He laughed and grabbed my wrist before towing me out of the room. We stopped in the kitchen and at a hall closet on our way there, picking up water, candles, and matches. And by the time we got to his room, I was practically sprinting into it and urging him to lock the doors. Something about being in those halls and not being able to see the other guys had chilled me to the bone, to the point that even after I was sitting on Taylor’s bed with my knees pulled up to my chest, I was still shaking.
Taylor went around the room, lighting enough candles so we could see, before using a flashlight app on his phone to check under the bed, in the closet, and the bathroom. I didn’t need to ask what he was doing; I knew he was checking to see if the others were in here with us.
When he was satisfied with his search, he stood next to the bed with arms crossed over his chest and stared down at me. “Did you get your journal?”
Even though I knew I hadn’t grabbed anything when we’d left the room, I still patted his bed beside me, looking for it. “No.”
“Can you sleep?” When I nodded my head, he took a step back and spoke softly, “Then I’ll see you tomorrow.”
ROLLING OVER TO MY OTHER SIDE, I let my eyes adjust and watched Taylor at one of the weight machines in his room. Unlike the times he worked out in my room, he had his shirt off and was only in a pair of running shoes and mesh workout shorts. He did each rep with ease, but sweat was running down his body, and I wondered how much of a difference this was for him now after spending so long without it.
Minutes passed before his voice caused me to jolt back. “I know you’re awake, Rachel.”
“Uh—”
“Do you need anything, or are you just bored?”
“I can’t sleep.” And I wished I had stayed facing the other way. Getting caught staring at him while he worked out was still beyond embarrassing. But he spent days on end staring at me, it was only natural for me to do the same when he finally did something.
He let the bar go all the way to the top before releasing it and turning his body so he could look at me better. “I’ll go shower.”
“Wait, what?”
“That’s too loud, I’m keeping you awake.”
“You’re not, you don’t need to stop . . . I just can’t sleep.”
“I’ll be back soon,” he said when he stood, but he paused when he turned toward the bathroom. “Anything happens, Rachel, you scream. Understand?”
There wasn’t a point in arguing with him about working out; he was always trying to make me as comfortable as possible. If he thought he was keeping me up, then there was no changing his mind. “Yeah.”
“Don’t go to sleep.”
“I know, Taylor.”
He turned back and shot me a smile, but it quickly faltered. “It feels so wrong to leave you in here.”
It felt wrong to be left alone, but I didn’t want to voice that. “I’m fine, go shower.”
“Scream,” he whispered.
The water turned on a minute later and I got out of the bed and walked around his large room as I waited for him to come back out. I wished I could spend time walking around here with the lights on, so I could see if there was anything personal laid out. I wanted to know what kind of guy Taylor really was, other than a confusingly protective and sweet kidnapper.
I picked up o
ne of his free weights and about died under the heaviness of it. I had spent over a month sitting on a mattress, not moving. Although he kept me well fed and I’d had no form of exercise, I still felt like I was thinner than when I’d been brought here. And not that I’d had much muscle before, but I was positive there was nothing there anymore.
Just as I was putting the weight back in the designated slot, the door to the hallway rattled, and I turned to watch the handle twist back and forth as someone continued to put pressure against the door. Another couple attempts to open the door, and my body finally unfroze and I hurried into the bathroom, thankful that Taylor had left the door unlocked.
“Rachel,” Taylor said softly. Just as I was about to explain why I’d rushed in, I heard his voice again—and this time the husky tone of it had every inch of my body covered in goose bumps. “Fuck, Rachel.”
My eyes widened and I turned to face the mirror. It was starting to get steamy in the bathroom, but not enough that I couldn’t see the reflection of Taylor through the glass door of the shower. What I saw had my jaw dropping, and my next inhale becoming audible.
Taylor’s left arm was out in front of him, his hand keeping him leaning toward the wall. His arm closest to the glass door was moving back and forth in a controlled motion. I tried to turn around, but my eyes flashed down and I couldn’t seem to take them off his hand going up and down his long length.
There’s no way I’m seeing this, this isn’t happening. He’s not doing this, and he’s definitely not doing this while thinking about me! Look away, Rachel, for the love of God look away.
“God—yes.”
I stared, transfixed, as his hand gradually moved faster and faster. Something inside me heated, something in me wanted to watch him finish. My fingers twitched watching him, and it was his next “Rachel” that had me snapping out of it and realizing what I was doing, what I was feeling, what I was thinking, and what I was craving . . . from him.
I felt sick. My eyes burned as tears pricked them, and I turned and rushed into the bedroom, not even remembering about the others trying to get in until I was already in his bed and covering my shaking body with the comforter. I wasn’t okay with what I’d just seen, I wasn’t okay with my reaction to watching him, and I wasn’t okay with the images that were still racing through my head at what I wanted him to come in here and do to me.
Biting down on my fist in an attempt to quiet my ragged breathing, I tried not to burst into tears. I’d just gotten my body to stop shaking when I heard the water turn off and the glass door open. I kept the comforter up, covering most of my face, and a couple minutes later when Taylor walked into the room, I didn’t move.
“Rachel . . . ? Goddamn it, you weren’t supposed to go to sleep!” he whispered harshly, and I heard him walking quickly around the room as he checked the door, under the bed, and the closet.
I should have tried to answer him to tell him no one else was in there. I should have told him that someone had been trying to get in the room while he was in the shower. I should have assured him that I hadn’t fallen asleep so he wouldn’t have to worry himself more the next time he had to leave me. But I couldn’t. All I could do was lie there and want for things to be different.
Up until about ten minutes before, I’d never thought of anything romantic or sexual with Taylor—and I knew the only reason I was now was because of what I had seen. I wanted those thoughts gone. I wanted to go back in time and decide to stay in the room when the others had tried to get in, and just be prepared to scream if they had succeeded.
And most of all, I wanted my Kash. I wanted to be wrapped in his arms in our bed. I wanted to go back to the night of the whipped cream war, and beg him to stay home with me so none of this would have happened. I wanted a way to tell him I was okay. I wanted to know that I was going to see him again. And I wanted to know if he was trying to find me.
A couple of drawers opened and shut before I heard the familiar sound of Taylor making himself comfortable on the ground, in front of one of the doors. For the first time in a long time, I wondered why he would go through this day in, day out. I’d believed him that he wanted to keep me safe from the others. But who would go through this just for that reason after kidnapping the person?
Taylor made me feel safe, that hadn’t changed, but now I couldn’t help but wonder if he was waiting for something from me. I still didn’t know why they’d taken me, and it still didn’t make sense that Taylor would be the main one doing the kidnapping, when all he ever did was take care of me. Was I there for him? Was it some weird form of stealing women to be wives, and was Taylor waiting for me to forget about Kash and fall in love with him?
That wasn’t about to happen. I quietly brought my hand up and twisted my engagement ring around my finger. I didn’t know what the date was, but I knew our wedding date was coming up soon, and I wondered what Kash had told everyone.
Has he told them anything at all, or is he hoping he’ll find me before then? Has he told them it’s postponed until I’m back? Has he told them the wedding is canceled? And if so, what was his reason?
I knew he at least had to know I’d been taken. The dispatchers at the department would have told him if Taylor and the other guy there hadn’t done enough damage in the bedroom for him to figure it out.
So is he telling people that I’ve been kidnapped and he doesn’t know when they’ll get me back, or if they’ll get me back? Or is he telling them that I was kidnapped long enough ago, and that without any word, they’re assuming I’m dead?
My chest ached knowing that Kash may indeed think I was dead. I couldn’t help but wonder how long he would have searched for me before giving up. How long he would grieve before eventually trying to move on with his life. And how long would I be here before I came to terms with the fact that I would never get out again?
Taylor’s breathing evened out, and I vowed to someday get out of this place, and get back to Kash.
I BARELY HAD TIME to sit up in the bed and see what was happening before Taylor was throwing himself in front of me and reaching into the nightstand with his free hand—his other hand was holding a gun pointing at two men who were standing just outside the doorway that led to Taylor’s bathroom.
“Don’t move,” he said in warning and pulled the second gun up so he had one aimed at each man.
“Just give us the girl, bro,” the one on our right said. Both had their arms up, but one of his started slowly inching down to his waist.
“Keep reaching for your gun, Jaime, and I’ll put two bullets in your chest.”
Jaime’s hand went back up, and both men took a step away from each other, like they were about to round both sides of the bed. Taylor was already practically sitting on my feet as he kept his guns trained on them, but my body was shaking, and I felt like he was better protection than the headboard I was sitting up against. I forced my legs to move and slowly scooted myself down the few feet on the bed until I was pressed up against his back, and gripping his shirt.
The muscles in Taylor’s back were tense and vibrating as I let my forehead fall to the point right between his shoulder blades, and prayed that if anything happened, it didn’t happen to him.
“You can’t keep her locked up with you anymore. They’re taking too long at releasing everyone, something’s gotta give. You know they stopped responding to our calls and e-mails, we need to take action; and they want her.”
“You touch her, you die. Get the fuck out,” Taylor growled.
“You’re really going to turn against us over a piece of ass? What do you think Romero will say when he finds out? You’ll be out, and you know—”
“I don’t fucking care, get the fuck out!”
I heard shuffling, and then a short scream burst from my throat when both guns went off. My ears were ringing, and although I knew they came from Taylor’s guns, I still let out a shaky breath of relief when I heard his deep voice again.
“Next time, they’re aimed at you. Get out, don’t c
ome in here again, and don’t come near her.”
“Fuck you, you’re out. You got it? You’re out, and she will be used to get them back—we’re going!” one of them yelled, and I figured Taylor had aimed his guns at them again.
We sat quietly for a few minutes until Taylor finally broke the silence. His voice was dark and soft. “Are you okay?”
I just nodded my head into his back and tried to force my hands to loosen their hold on his shirt—they tightened instead.
“I need you to let go, Rachel, I need to go lock the doors again if they didn’t bust them, and put something in front of them so they can’t get back in.”
“Yeah, okay—yeah . . . I’m trying,” I cried out, half-frustrated that I was feeling like a child unable to make her body do what she wanted it to do, half-terrified and wondering when I’d started crying.
Taylor leaned forward to set the guns down before reaching behind him to grab for my hands. His large fingers wrapped around my shaking fists and gently began massaging them, down to my wrists and back again until they loosened their death grip on his shirt and finally let go.
We sat there for a handful of minutes—with my forehead still pressed to his back, and his hands holding on to my wrists from over his shoulders—not moving, and not saying anything until he twisted around and set my hands on the bed before releasing them.
His eyes searched my face, and his mouth opened like he was going to say something before he shut it and shook his head. “I’ll be back,” he said and got off the bed and headed into the bathroom.
When he was done locking the door and moving his workout equipment in front of the doors leading to the bathroom and hall, he grabbed the guns off the bed and put them on top of one of the nightstands. I was staring at one of the two holes above the bathroom doorframe where Taylor had shot, when his hand grabbed my chin and turned my head to face him.
“You okay?”
I nodded and swallowed through the tightening in my throat. When I opened my mouth to reassure his worried-looking eyes, nothing came out and tears clouded my vision again.