chapter ten #2
I don’t know what he means by my not facing him.
I’m no coward. It took everything in me to face the terror he inflicted on those kids.
I could have looked the other way. Could have continued to benefit from the sorrow and pain of others.
Maybe he thought I’d be so grateful for everything he’s done for me I’d make excuses for his actions.
I should have told him there ain’t a crush alive that deep.
It could never be me. After the way I lost my parents, he should know better.
He’s walking into the bedroom just as I enter in my borrowed clothes.
“Come eat.” He’s already turning when I move to follow him.
His shadow looms large against the lit stairway leading down to the main level of the house. By the time I think to push him down the stairs and make a run for it, he’s too many stairs down ahead of me.
The temperature is cooler on the ground floor than heated bathroom. Immediately my nipples prickle in the cool air.
Instead of stopping when he gets to the bottom. He continues as though he couldn’t care less whether I follow or not.
Taking my time, I take in more of the industrial-themed decor. The sofa is leather and soft suede. The tables are rimmed with copper or steel. Cowhide ottomans complete the seating areas we skirt around.
By the time I reach the hallway I saw him headed in, I’m just in time to see him disappear into a room beyond.
“Asshole.” I say, not caring if he hears me. “What is this, a dang marathon?” Muttering as I follow him.
Some aches have eased from the soak and the bath, but nothing that says I’m ready to speed walk behind him when his stride is double that of mine.
When I enter a formal dining room, I see no place setting, but there is a door beyond where a light shines.
“An asshole who’s feeding your ungrateful ass. Sit down before I change my mind.” His phone chimes. Ignoring it, he waits until I do as he says.
The smell of chili makes my tummy rumble. There are Monterey Jack and cheddar cheese, sour cream, and chives in a small bowl on the side. Two slices of cheese toast are sitting beside the dish.
Steam wafts up from the bowl. It takes everything in me to say a quick blessing before I dig into the piping hot dish.
“Wassup?” I hear him ask over the line. Glancing up, I see he’s watching me.
Chewing, I watch him back. Any information I can glean from his conversation is a boon to me.
“Yeah, I’ll take care of it. You take care of your family, man.” Staring at me hard as hell, he nods though Angel, who I assume he’s talking to, speaks over the line.
“Riders are going to do what they do. We said we were running this more democratically. They deserve to be heard. I’ll have everything handled here by the time you get back.” He promises before hanging up.
Then he opens a MacBook I just noticed was on the table and works like I don’t exist.
“You said if I faced you, you’d tell me about Easy and her baby. Obviously they are with Angel — you said family.” Pushing the bowl away now that my tummy is filled beyond belief, I look at him.
He doesn’t bother to acknowledge me as he continues to type.
“Despite your best efforts, Angel has his kid and Ezekiel-Jane back at his home. They are safe because no one knows where they are located. He’s taking time off to work through this shit, Kandie, and you started.
” Fury laces his words as he taps the keys in a swift, methodical motion.
“Oh-ho, way to take responsibility for your own shit, motherfucker.” Heaving up from the chair in my fury, the heavy Spanish-style piece makes an awful scraping sound on the hardwood. If it were lighter, it would probably topple.
Snapping the MacBook closed, he eyes me, then his gaze tracks down to the floor. Following his gaze, I look down. Thankfully, there are no marks on the floor. He’d probably take it out on my bottom again. The look on his face — ticking muscle in his jaw and all, says he’s still considering it.
“C’mon.” He says, heading toward me out of the room.
“Don’t you want me to clean my dishes?” This was always the rule in our house.
“No. I really can’t stand to be around your ass right now.” Comes the nasty reply as he pushes past me.
Ignoring the sharp hit to my solar plexus at his words, I tip up my chin because I can’t let him see how it affects me, — “Same, bitch.”
Sounding tougher than I feel, I follow him through the living room to the hidden elevator on this level. It’s hidden cleverly behind a set of bookshelves that disappear once he removes a book he once said was his favorite, Song of Solomon, by Toni Morrison.
As much as I want a book, I don’t ask. As much as I want to plead not to be taken back to that cell, I’d rather bite my fucking tongue off than ask him for a damn thing.
The trip down is faster but no less scary than the ride up. The door opens with a swoosh, and the hallway once again illuminates as soon as our feet touch the surface.
I make a mental note of the sterile hall noticing this time what I was too distracted and afraid to initially. There are doors lining the hall. Panels with coded keypads. I’m sure they all require his retina to open as well.
I’ll probably have to pluck his eyeball out to free any kids locked away down here. My tummy nearly revolts at the thought as well as how I folded for him.
I swallow against the retch threatening as we near the room he put me in, or at least I assume it’s the same room.
Too preoccupied with where he was taking me the last time to pay attention and count.
I fix it this time around. Twenty-six doors on the way here and, from the looks of the vast darkness beyond the six more I can see past the door we stop at, there are many more.
Surely there aren’t people locked in all these rooms. There is no way I’d be able to get them all out.
And to what purpose? There were maybe two or three dozen people in that warehouse Kandie and I came upon. If he’s housing people here, that is a serious undertaking and a network that’s far vaster than we ever realized.
Obviously, the Feds did nothing since he and Angel are still walking free. The whole thing just makes me feel so dispirited.
“Get in.” Nodding to the room that’s somehow gotten cleaned in our absence. The chair is gone. The tiny bed is remade.
Heat flushes my face. Someone one saw that he had sex with me. Embarrassment floods my system like a level one virus.
Something I never thought I’d feel when it comes to Snake sets up hot and hard in my chest — shame. Not only about what happened but how much I liked it — wanted it even.
I look up at him, not moving, refusing to go back into the room until I get some answers.
“Who else is here besides me?” I demand.
His face is a stoic mask as he regards me down the length of his six-foot-eight frame.
For a moment — not even that, maybe a nanosecond — I think I see a flash of hurt, but I know a person capable of what I know him to be can’t feel those types of emotions.
So immediately I shove it aside as a play on the lights.
“It must really fuck you up to know that you fucked me knowing you liked everything I did to you. Get. In.” Every mocking word is cruel.
This. This is what I expected. Exactly what I know to be true.
It’s almost a comfort he’s still on brand.
The chili that I’m forcing to keep down because I need my strength to fight him was not something he made because he cares and knows it’s my favorite.
It was to further drive the point home that he controls everything in my life for the moment.
And I promise it will only be for the moment because I don’t care what I have to do, I will free myself and whoever else I have to from this prison.
“Just as I’m sure it galls you how bad you wanted me despite thinking Oz got there first.” I shrug. “Anyways, how long are you keeping me here? You chased me down. Got your little revenge with those two paltry pumps —”
A hard hand closes around my arm, shoving me into the room.
“My little revenge ain’t over by a damn sight, little girl.” Cold eyes track me no different from the predator from which he takes his name. He steps back as the door begins to close.
“I’m keeping you until I get tired of fucking you.”