Chapter 12
DANIKA
My door is still locked when I wake in the morning. It’s early, but not too early to call Sachi. I think it’s time to tell her what’s happened since we parted.
“I know you said for emergencies only, but you gotta keep a girl in the loop!” My best friend jumps right into a lighthearted scolding.
“I know, Sach. That’s why I’m calling.”
“How are you? Is everything okay?”
I scrunch my nose, though she can’t see me. “I’m good, but things are … complicated.” I launch into the crazy story that has been my life over the past two days. Sachi listens raptly, occasionally inserting a gasp or a single word of disbelief.
“You are going to make a fortune when you sell the movie rights to your life,” she says when I’m done.
I have to laugh because the outlandishness of it all is truly astounding. “Assuming I make it out of here,” I add, sobering both of us.
“What are you going to do?” she asks in a hushed, worried voice.
“I can’t stay here, Sach. It’s too risky for everyone involved.
Even if Tommy is truly intent on helping me, this is so much bigger than he knows, and he could end up getting himself killed.
I’m not okay with that. And if I make the wrong call and stay, and they end up turning me over, I’ll wish I was dead. ”
“No, Dani. Don’t say that.”
My body wilts with a weary sigh. “The point is, I’ve got to run.”
“Okay, then let’s make a plan.”
“I’ve been thinking … he’s got a lock on my bedroom door, and the lock picks were gone from my bag when he gave it back to me, but I have a ton of bobby pins. Knowing what I do now about how locks work, I think I can use those to get free.”
“Do you know where you’d go from there?”
“That’s the biggest problem, and I’ve been afraid to look online for ideas since I’m stuck using his internet connection. Can he use that to see my search history?”
“I’m not sure, but it sounds like something that would happen in the movies, so it's probably best to avoid it. How about this? When you leave, go to a nearby hotel and text me where to find you. In the meantime, I’ll look into ideas.
We could set you up at a women’s shelter outside the city somewhere just until you can sort something else out. ”
“That sounds more appealing than a homeless shelter.”
“For sure. Okay, do we have a plan, then?”
“Yeah. I’ll buzz you as soon as I’m somewhere safe.”
“Perfect.” She pauses, her voice earnest when she continues. “Be safe, Dani. Love you bunches.”
“Love you, too, Sach.”
I disconnect and look at my text messages before stashing my phone back in my bag.
My mother still hasn’t responded to my text from last night.
I don’t want to panic, but I can’t imagine why she wouldn’t have texted me back.
The possibilities clamp tight around my chest and squeeze until it’s hard to breathe.
I get lost staring out the window, desperately wishing I could check on her. I hate that she could be in danger because of me, but she was adamant that I ran. Honoring her wishes is yet another reason I need to get out of here. If something has happened to her, I can’t let that be for nothing.
A throat clears, making me realize I’m no longer alone. My bad ear was toward the door, and with my turbulent thoughts distracting me, I didn’t notice Tommy unlocked the door and was now leaning against the doorframe.
We watch one another for long seconds. The pulsating tension between us hasn’t dissipated.
If anything, it’s only gotten worse, and the fact that he’s not wearing a shirt isn’t helping.
His chiseled torso is covered in sweat. It’s clear his affinity for routines includes working out.
The man has hardly an ounce of fat on him.
Come on, Dani. Keep your head in the game.
“Am I allowed out?” I ask.
“Told you, it was only for the night.” His rugged voice sends a cascade of tingles down my spine.
“Because you think I might try to kill you in your sleep?”
He shrugs his broad shoulders. “Better to be safe than sorry.”
“I don’t get it. If you don’t trust me, and I’m such a pain, why not let me go?
Honestly, I’m having trouble understanding why you haven’t turned me over for the reward.
None of this makes any sense. And I know I’m not in a position to make demands, but the uncertainty makes all of this that much harder for me.
” I’m not sure why I’m confronting him like this.
Frustration. Maybe a twinge of hurt. I don’t like him thinking I’m some sort of diabolical criminal.
Is it so bad that I haven’t told him what I stole?
Is that the reason for his glacial demeanor ever since our kiss?
Tommy prowls closer. My heart stutters and stumbles with anticipation. I’m never quite sure what he might do, and the suspense is oddly invigorating.
Once he’s close enough, he weaves his fingers into my hair at the nape of my neck. “Maybe I’ve decided to keep you for myself,” he says distractedly, his eyes slowly roaming across my face.
Keep me? As in … permanently ?
His admission stuns me.
Does he mean keep me as a prisoner? Is that the real reason he locked the door last night—not to protect himself but to prevent me from leaving?
Maybe, but as I stare deep into his tempestuous eyes, I don’t feel like a captive.
If anything, I feel like a siren under Tommy’s fiercely determined gaze.
“Is that what’s happening here?” I breathe. “Are you planning to keep me?”
“All that matters is that, for now, you’re mine.” He pauses as if wanting to do or say something but thinks better of it and releases me.
My body sways. I might have quit breathing—his proximity does that to me. And to hear him say I’m his … it’s surreal. I knew he desired me, but this feels like more than attraction, and I’m not sure how I feel about it.
While I’m still reeling, he surprises me again when he extends a black credit card toward me between two fingers. “I know you weren’t able to bring much when you ran, so you should order new.”
I take the card and stare at it in confusion. “You mean … you want me to buy clothes?”
“I mean, you should get whatever you want. Whatever makes staying here feel more comfortable for you.”
God, I’m so confused. He locks me away and tells me he’s keeping me, then gives me carte blanche to use his credit card? This man is an ever-changing riddle that I have no chance of solving.
When I look back at him, I see that his gaze has wandered down to my chest. I realize I’m wearing a thin camisole without a bra.
As if preening with satisfaction, my nipples pebble and pull in his direction.
The physical response is so sudden and arousing that I inadvertently gasp.
Our eyes lock, and his dilated pupils remind me of a jungle cat ready to pounce.
Tommy lifts his fingers to the pulse point at the base of my neck before slowly lowering them to the neckline of my camisole, sliding them from one side to the other as if testing his restraint.
His touch has my body so greedy for more that my legs tremble.
“You could always forgo clothes,” he murmurs. “I wouldn’t complain.”
My gaze shamelessly drifts over his sculpted chest. As an artist, I can’t deny the exceptional beauty of his masculine form.
As a woman, I’m tempted to lick the beads of sweat from his skin.
This man twists my thoughts and insides into such knots I have no idea what I think or how I feel.
I shouldn’t want him, but my own selfish desire has me asking myself if this man didn’t enter my life for a reason.
He’s Mafia. That should end the discussion entirely, except …
only someone like him has a chance at fending off Biba.
If I didn’t run, I’d need someone like that to keep me alive.
And if you get him killed in the process?
That thought is enough to finally slap some sense into me. I clear my throat and step back, dissipating the electric chemistry buzzing in the air around us. “Thanks. I’ll have a look online after breakfast.”
He doesn’t respond. When I look up to see his reaction, I’m left wanting because his fathomless stare is as guarded as ever before he walks away. If he does have feelings for me, one way or another, he’s unwilling to share them. I wonder if he ever shares that sort of thing with anyone.
I have to wonder if I’m overcomplicating the matter.
Maybe he’s attracted to me, and that’s all there is to it.
Hell, perhaps he’s just horny. Could be, but Tommy strikes me as a man of action rather than words.
I suspect he’d be more direct if that were the extent of his interest. Keeping me implies a degree of commitment, doesn’t it?
Not if he wants to keep you as his sex slave.
Okay, that’s enough of this delightful little dive down the rabbit hole.
Instead of guessing at his thoughts and motives, perhaps I should focus more on his actions.
Or maybe I shouldn’t. Because when I think of all the little ways he’s shown me kindness, I feel even worse about the danger he could be in.
He doesn’t deserve that, and if I have any self-respect at all, I’d free him of my presence sooner rather than later.
Finally, something all the voices in my head can agree upon.
The only problem? I didn’t expect sooner to arrive quite so quickly.
I find myself locked in my room after breakfast so Tommy can shower and decide it’s as good a time as any to run.
If I truly believe leaving is best and that time is of the essence, I need to go. Now.
I throw my things back into my bag, making sure to leave his credit card on the dresser.
I can hear the faint thrum of water running, so I get to work.
Bobby pins aren’t nearly as easy to work with as Gran’s “keys,” but they suffice.
Interior locks aren’t exactly made to thwart trespassers.
In less than a minute, I get the door open and hurry from my room and out of the apartment.
I press the elevator call button at least fifteen times before it finally arrives, and a minute later, I’m walking free on a busy Manhattan street.
Of course, free is relative.
I’m no longer physically captive, but paranoia is my new prison. Each person I pass is suspect. Every glance in my direction is a possible threat. I am completely unprotected out here in the open. It’s terrifying.
I keep my head down and make a beeline for the first hotel I see.
Once inside, I pull out the small stash of money I still have from home.
I’m a little surprised Tommy didn’t take it along with my lock pick tools.
It’s things like that that make me think he’s a decent man beneath it all, which is why it’s best that I’m gone.
I book a room for a single night and head upstairs, not breathing easily until I’m safely tucked away in my room. I did it. I’m in the wind. Sitting on the white cotton duvet, I look at my new sanctuary and discover that I don’t feel the relief I expected to feel. I’m free, but I’m also alone.
I get out the phone and text Sachi the hotel name and room number. At least I get one last visit with her. After today, I’m on my own.
Sachi texts that she’ll be by shortly. I prop myself against the headboard, cuddle the down pillows, and scroll through daytime TV until a knock sounds at the door.
I hurry over to let in my friend, but when I open the door, it’s not Sachi on the other side.
It’s six feet of bristling Italian, hands clenched furiously at his sides.