18. KIm
18
KIM
Kim
I push the food around my plate, the weight of my thoughts making each bite taste like ash. My thoughts have been tangled up for days, ever since that call with Avery.
I keep wondering how they are doing. Now that I know what Nathan is up to, I feel more panicked than before. But I can't help them, not here. And even if I was there…I can't do anything against him either.
And when those thoughts aren't slicing through me, my mind drifts to the other night. The way Sam made me feel and how I got myself off to him. What am I becoming? There's always been this pull between us, but how can I let myself go there?
Sam's voice cuts through the silence. "You're awfully quiet tonight, little dancer."
I don't look up, focusing on the intricate pattern of the plate instead. "Just tired," I mutter.
"Bullshit," he says, his tone sharp. "What's going on in that pretty head of yours?"
I risk a glance at him. His gray eyes bore into me, intense and searching. There's something there…something that looks like concern. It makes my stomach twist, thinking that he would be worried about me, but no. He can't care for me.
It's wrong, all of this is wrong.
"Nothing," I say, forcing myself to take a bite of the perfectly cooked steak.
Sam puts down his fork with a clatter. "Kim, talk to me. You haven't said more than two words all day."
The sound of my name on his lips sends unwelcome heat pooling in my stomach. I hate that my body reacts to him, even as my mind rebels.
"What do you want me to say?" I finally meet his gaze, but my voice is neutral, not even really wanting to fight with you. "That I'm happy to be your prisoner? That I'm not worried about things that I left out there?"
His jaw clenches. "You're not a prisoner. You're mine."
"Same difference," I mutter.
Sam stands abruptly, his chair scraping against the hardwood floor. He stalks around the table, and I tense, ready for... I don't know what. But he surprises me by pushing the chair back so that I'm facing him and cocking a brow.
He's not choking me. He's not grabbing me. He's waiting for me in that patient way of his. And I know it's a game, it's all a power play, but…I kind of like how patient he can be with me.
And sometimes I like when he's not.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
"Tell me what's wrong," he says, his voice a soft command. "I'll fix it."
I laugh, a bitter sound that scrapes my throat. "You can't fix this, Sam. You can't fix the fact that my brother is running drugs out of our parents' old house. You can't fix the fact that I'm worried sick about my brothers. And you sure as hell can't fix the fact that I..." I trail off, the words dying on my tongue.
His grip on my hands tightens. "That you what?"
I shake my head, unable to voice the conflicting emotions warring inside me. The fear, the anger, and the undeniable attraction that makes me hate myself.
To my surprise, he doesn't push it. Instead, he reaches into his pocket, pulling out his phone and holding it out to me.
I stare at the phone in Sam's outstretched hand, my heart hammering against my ribs. I'm not sure what kind of game is playing, but hope is starting to take root in my chest. My eyes dart up to his, trying to understand what he is doing.
"Go on," Sam urges, his voice uncharacteristically gentle. "Call them. Check in."
My fingers tremble as I take the phone, punching in my grandmother's number from memory. Each ring feels like an eternity, my breath catching in my throat.
"Hello?" A familiar voice answers, and relief washes over me.
"Zander? It's Kim."
"Kim!" His voice cracks, and it only reminds me how young he is. "Where the hell have you been? We've been worried sick!"
I swallow hard, guilt twisting in my gut. It seems Avery didn't tell anyone I called, and I don't know what to make of that. "I'm sorry, I... it's complicated. How are you? Is everyone okay?"
There's a pause, and when Zander speaks again, his voice is low, urgent. "Kim, you gotta come home. There's... there's trouble."
My stomach drops. "What kind of trouble?"
"It's Nathan," he says, and I can hear the fear in his voice. "He's in deep shit, Kim. And..." His voice drops low, like he's not even supposed to know. "And they're coming for you too."
The world tilts on its axis. "What are you talking about?"
"There's a warrant out," Zander whispers. "For Nathan and for you. They're saying... they're saying you're both dealing drugs."
"No," I whisper, shock starting to spread through my limbs.
There's a shout on the other line, and Zander cusses. Something he used to not do. "I've got to go-" And then the line goes dead, making fear pound through me with the shock.
The phone slips from my numb fingers, clattering to the floor. My vision blurs, the room spinning around me. This can't be happening. It can't be real.
"Kim?" Sam's voice sounds far away. "Kim, what's wrong?"
I can't breathe. My chest is too tight, my lungs refusing to work. I gasp for air, but it's like trying to breathe underwater. Panic claws at my throat, threatening to drag me under.
"Hey, hey, look at me." Sam's hands are on my face, forcing me to meet his gaze. His gray eyes are intense, focused. "Breathe, little dancer. Just breathe."
I try to speak, but all that comes out is a choked sob. Tears spill down my cheeks, hot and uncontrollable. Sam pulls me against his chest, his arms wrapping around me like a shield.
"I've got you," he murmurs into my hair. "Whatever it is, we'll fix it. I promise."
I want to believe him. God, I want to believe him so badly. But how can he fix this? How can anyone fix this nightmare?
And since when have I turned to Sam, to the guy who has kidnapped me, drugged me, and choked me, for comfort? Since when have I placed my trust in him?
Maybe it's because I know what to expect with him. Or maybe it's because he's right…and I do like to not have to be in control all the time with him. I don't have to worry about anyone because he takes care of everything.
Fuck, what is wrong with me? I'm making up excuses for my captor when he's half the reason I'm in this mess.
But still, his hands on me feel incredible and I can't pull away.
"They think I'm... they think I'm dealing drugs," I manage to choke out between sobs. "There's a warrant... for me and Nathan."
Sam's body tenses against mine, but his voice remains steady. "We'll figure it out. I've got lawyers, connections. We'll clear your name."
I pull back, searching his face. "Why? Why would you help me?"
His thumb brushes away a tear from my cheek. "Because you're mine, Kim. And I protect what's mine."
I'm startled by the gentleness in Sam's touch as he strokes my hair, his fingers weaving through my braids with a tenderness I didn't think him capable of. My sobs gradually subside, replaced by hiccups and sniffles. I should pull away, should remember who he is and what he's done, but I can't bring myself to move.
"Come on, little dancer," Sam murmurs, his breath warm against my ear. "Let's get you to bed."
Before I can protest, he scoops me up in his arms like I weigh nothing. I instinctively wrap my arms around his neck, my face buried in the crook of his shoulder. He smells like expensive cologne and for some reason, it calms me.
"I can walk," I mumble half-heartedly.
"I know you can," he replies, his chest rumbling with a soft chuckle. "But you don't have to."
He carries me up the grand staircase, his footsteps echoing in the empty hallway. I should be plotting my escape, looking for weaknesses, but all I can focus on is the steady beat of his heart against my chest.
Sam pushes open a door with his foot, and we enter a room I've never seen before. It must be his bedroom. The space is massive, dominated by a bed bigger than a king with dark sheets.
He sets me down gently on the edge of the bed. "Arms up," he commands softly.
I comply without thinking, too exhausted to argue. And yeah…maybe I want someone to take care of me for once.
Sam tugs my shirt over my head, replacing it with one of his own. The fabric is soft against my skin, smelling of him.
"There," he says, his voice low. "Better?"
I nod, unable to meet his eyes. "Thanks," I whisper.
Sam climbs into bed beside me, pulling me against his chest. I should resist, should remember that he's my captor, not my savior. But right now, with his arms around me, I feel safe for the first time in years.
"It's going to be okay," he murmurs into my hair. "I'll take care of everything."
And the scariest part is, I believe him. For once, I don't have to be the strong one, the one holding everything together. I can just... be.
As I drift off to sleep, I hear Sam's voice, barely a whisper. "I've got you, Kim. Always."