Chapter 4
A Lovely Man
Jade
The demon’s car smelled of cigarettes and expensive cologne—something woodsy. I sat in the front seat in the white pajamas and my evening heels, feeling more out of place than ever before.
His car wasn’t just a car; it was an Aston Martin. That real fancy shit. The interior was all creamy and rich, and the ride was smooth, as if we were gliding, not busting through unknown swamp roads.
I wondered what the hell this guy did for a living. Clearly, something illegal, considering he thought kidnapping me was his best course of action. Kidnapping a U.S. Attorney’s only daughter, might I add.
Man, my father was probably losing it. I could picture it now—him barking out instructions at anyone within earshot.
“Where do you need to go?” The kidnapper interrupted my inner stream of consciousness with his deep voice, perfectly fitting into the car setting. In fact, him too—he looked like he belonged in this car.
He moved slowly, confidently, like he had all the time in the world. My gaze settled on his hand clutching the steering wheel, tattoos on his long and strong fingers. The ink bled onto his wrist and up his forearm, a snake or dragon intertwined with barbed wire.
Straight nose, chiseled jawline, black hair perfectly styled back. It was a little longer, collecting in relaxed waves on the back of his neck. Did he wake up in the morning and fix his hair? Stood at the mirror and prepared for this diabolical visit where he pulled a gun on me?
“I need to go to a drugstore. Also, can you give me my clothes? From my hotel room?”
“No,” he responded almost immediately. “Get what you need and forget about all your shit.”
How unoriginal—he was on a power trip, high on the authority he wielded over me. Dick.
“Why? Just give me my clothes. I don’t have anythin—”
“No.”
I chuckled, having no other power move. We sat in silence for a minute longer until my tongue itched again.
“What’s your name?” I looked him over, mentally trying to come up with a name.
He didn’t indulge me with an answer, surprising no one.
“You want me to just call you excuse me? Man? Kidnapper? Criminal? Misogynist? Dickhead?”
This man stirred something inside me—an annoyance fueled by the fires of hell. Fuck him. My wrists and ankles still bore red marks from the zip ties that his little gang of thugs so mercilessly wrapped me in last night.
“Misogynist?! Where the fuck did you get that? You don’t even know me!”
Oh. Interesting. That hit a nerve. He didn't care about any of the other names, which meant that he was, in fact, a kidnapper, a criminal, and a dickhead. But the misogynist part pissed him off. He probably thought he was a good person.
I opened my mouth to launch into him, but a loud phone call interrupted me. Gianna showed up on the screen, but the kidnapper-criminal-dickhead pressed the red button almost instantly, dropping the call.
He sped up instead, the unknown landscape whooshing past us in a blur, but not even a minute later, the ringing started once more. Gianna.
"Pissed off girlfriend?" I turned to him, eager to poke the bear again.
"None of your fucking business."
The irritability in his voice was too perfect to ignore—I’d hit the nail on the head.
"Oh, come on. You know about Xavier; it’s only fair you tell me about Gianna.
Did you kidnap her too at some point? Were you a dickhead to her?
” I tried to hold back my smile, predicting his reaction to my next words. “A misogyni—”
"You really need to learn how to keep your mouth shut. Jesus. You talk so much, I’m surprised you haven’t swallowed your own venomous tongue yet.
" Exasperated, he threw me a look of pure poison, but it had the opposite effect of what he wanted—it gave me a jolt of excitement. Riling him up was child’s play.
The Aston Martin pulled into a small parking lot attached to a dingy drug store in the middle of nowhere, and the dark-haired kidnapper jumped out of the car almost instantly.
I still sat there, assessing my surroundings.
What a shithole place. But before that thought could linger, he approached my car door and opened it. Like a gentleman.
“Please, princess, by all means, take your fucking time.” He stood in front of the car door, blocking all sunlight.
Oh, I would take my time. Slowly, I swung my legs out, my heels almost reaching the pavement.
Damn, I’d miscalculated—this car was too low to exit gracefully.
But I was too far into whatever the fuck was happening between us to give up now.
The whole charade wouldn’t work if I climbed out like a gremlin and my body worked before my mind could catch up—I stuck my hand out.
The birds chirped somewhere close by, and warm wind rustled my hair while I waited. I’d never done that before—never demanded anything. Never put my foot down, rarely asked, barely took control, but now, with him, there was no other choice. And I kind of liked it.
The Sasquatch stared at my hand for too long, waiting it out, but so did I. Just as I thought he’d leave me hanging for good, his tattooed fingers closed around mine.
The contrast was eye-opening. My hand was small and cold, and his hand was massive, rough, and hot, and it swallowed mine in an unforgiving grip. He hauled me up in one sudden pull, bringing my nose an inch away from the solid wall that was his chest.
I stumbled on the uneven pavement in my four-inch heels, steadying myself on the first thing I could reach. His bicep. Like all of him, it was sizable.
He didn’t move. He didn’t even flinch. He looked down his long and straight nose, right into my eyes, that repulsive smirk from last night on his face once more.
“Careful, Jade,” he murmured, his deep voice getting under my skin. “Wouldn’t want you to trip. You might actually have to rely on a misogynist to catch you.” We were so close that I could see the way his pupils dilated, his eyes filled with amusement.
And he still held my hand in his clutches, his grip only tightening, the same way my chest squeezed at this unexpected and unwanted encounter.
“So we’re going with that nickname then?” I gulped, tugging my fingers out of his grasp, but instead, he pulled me in closer.
“Will it make you shut the fuck up?” he asked, his tone fake and over the top, but the truth was that nothing would make me shut my mouth now. He had nothing on me.
“You’ve asked so many times.” I finally pulled free, shutting down whatever heat was accosting my neck and back. “You’re practically begging. Why don’t you get down on your knees while you’re at it?”
He melted into a full-toothed grin before I even finished my sentence. “Never. In my life. Have I gotten down on my knees for anyone,” he declared, so proud, as if it was a life achievement.
“Well, there’s a first time for ever—”
“Walk.” His bright smile was long gone and he spoke louder, stepping so close that I had to stumble back.
Fucking psycho.
I wandered through the store, picking up some shampoo and half-decent face cream, slowly making my way to the aisle I desperately needed, hoping that he would stop following me.
But no, he was right on my ass, unnecessarily close.
"How long will this getaway last for me, do you think? When can I go to a drug store again?" I turned to him while he looked around, monitoring our surroundings like he was my bodyguard.
"Why does it matter? Just get your shit and hurry up."
"Okay. So next time I'm on my period, you'll go and get me some tampons yourself then?" As expected, he rolled his eyes and leaned in, giving me another one of his death stares. It was getting old.
"Stock up."
I realized then—they didn’t have a timeline in mind. They were just going to keep me locked up in that house until I went insane.
I thought about my father and the way it would destabilize him. He’d kept such tight control of me my entire life; he probably didn’t know how to live without exerting his total power over someone.
A chilling thrill ran through me at the thought of him having to cope.
"Has my father called me?" I plopped a few magazines into the pile of supplies my caveman was about to pay for. Instead of a wallet, he withdrew a wad of cash stuffed into a golden money clip. It had an engraving: A. M.
"I don’t know. I turned your phone off," A.M. answered, smiling with that wide grin again. I wanted to kick him in the balls every time he smiled. Here stood a man who imprisoned me for his own benefit, and he kept smiling at me.
"Don't smile. It's repulsive and it makes me want to vomit." I threw out an insult, but it didn’t land—he didn’t even look my way.
"Where to now?" A. M. sounded exhausted once we were back in his car. "Actually, don't say anything. I'm not going to indulge you in your wishes anyway. I'm taking you to a random mall and you can get whatever you want. You're not going anywhere; you don't need a lot of clothes."
What a lovely man.
My energy to argue with the Neanderthal was running out, and for the first time, I followed his request and kept my mouth shut.
He switched to drive with a rough jerk, like the car had personally pissed him off.
In fact, he did everything like that. A.
M. seemed on edge and irritated, the way guys get when they’re too full of bullshit and testosterone.
Maybe he needed a good fuck to drain his balls and get it under control.
The thought of what his balls and dick looked like burst into my mind like fireworks.
Was he…well hung? Solid and large like the rest of him? Was he a grower or a shower?
I turned away from him, hiding my giggle. I definitely had fucking issues.
"What's so funny?" he asked without interest, but just then, Gianna called one more time. Damn, this girl really wanted him. The thought alone made me short-circuit. Which insane bitch would want this man?
Just like before, he ignored the call.
"Wow. Gianna really wants to talk to you,” I spoke up with renewed energy. "What did you do to make her so addicted?"
But I had a few answers to my own question.
Either this was an extremely toxic relationship where he ignored her, and she got off on that.
It could have been a bad breakup. Maybe they had the best sex life on the planet, and she couldn’t let it go?
Maybe he was so good at eating pussy that she couldn’t live without him? All the possibilities were there.
"Can you shut up? Do you have the discipline to keep your big mouth closed? I don’t need your fucking insanity in my life.”
I had no intention of following that request. “I’m not insane. I’m not the one committing a crime here. I’m just a regular girl living my life.” I wished that were true about myself, though.
“The only crime here is your never-ending commentary.”
“Well…you’d be well versed in crimes, kidnapper, wouldn’t you?” I countered, sinking back into the soft leather of his Aston Martin.
“Biggest mistake I ever made—taking that gag out of your mouth. I’ll make sure—”
“Yeah, yeah. I know. You’ll shove it back in my mouth the next chance you get.”
His gaze jumped to me for a second, but he didn’t retort, choosing to let me have the win.
In total silence, we continued our little dysfunctional journey, and I caught myself right before I dozed off. The smell of cigarettes, his cologne, and something else equally pleasant relaxed me.
We arrived at some forgotten department store, dusty and sad. The beige colors and overflowing racks of outdated clothes were all weighing on me. I didn’t want to be here, and at the same time…Where did I want to be? Certainly not back at home.
Certainly not back at work. Certainly not in my own reality.
"You know I don't have all day to babysit you, right?" the caveman spoke behind me, lighting me up like a sparkler.
"You don't?!" I whirled around, my fake disbelief echoing all around us. "What kind of possible plans do you have on a Sunday afternoon? Kidnapping another woman since you can't keep Gianna satisfied?!"
The second the words left my mouth, I knew I’d crossed a line.
The change in him overpowered the air around us. His expression darkened, those black brows pulling together as he stepped in, crowding my space. Before I could even blink, his fingers wrapped around my wrist, cutting off my circulation and reminding me that I had nowhere to run.
"You know, Jade..." he gritted, killing me with his gaze.
"My partner is the more level-headed one but he's not here right now, so…
this can go one of two ways." My fingers were losing all feeling from his grip, and I staggered back, but he stepped forward, swallowing all the light.
"You behave and finally shut the fuck up or—”
And that’s when he did it—withdrew his secret weapon. My phone.
“I call Xavier and you can have a little chat with him. He’s been very persistent, hasn’t he? Would you like that instead?”
I felt it—the way my face drained of all color.
I’d forgotten all about what happened at the house and how I lunged for my phone.
I’d been disconnected from Xavier’s relentless calls and texts and I’d calmed down rather quickly.
Too fast. I got too comfortable, and A. M. was going to rip it all away.
Tears spilled over and down my cheeks as I stared at him, noticing the way he pulled back at my uncalled-for reaction. “No.” I shook my head, his proposition sending goosebumps all over my skin. Over the scar gifted to me by Xavier. “Don’t call Xavier, okay?”
It seeped into me—that gut-wrenching understanding that this stranger felt safer than my ex-boyfriend. What a painful and pathetic reality.
“I’ll stop talking.” I nodded, doing my best to reassure the stranger that there was no need to follow through on his threat. “I’ll go pick my clothes right now. I won’t say another word.”
Relief washed over me when he let go and took a small step back, his expression indecipherable.
I wasted no time. I picked out some dresses, a few sandals and running shoes, two bathing suits, some lingerie, and a little summery purse.
The seashells sewn onto the handle were grounding; I couldn’t stop touching them, like a constant reminder that it was all in the past. Everything with Xavier was in the past.
The hum of the kidnapper’s car engine droned out my dark thoughts, and I stared out of the window, counting down the minutes until we’d arrive at the little beach house. All I wanted was to climb into the soft bed and fall asleep. Hopefully forever.
But at some point, the growl of my stomach intruded on our now non-speaking terms.
"When did you last eat?" Of course, he asked.
"I dunno. Yesterday? At lunch, maybe."
He sighed, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. "Fuck. Let's go eat and you can tell me why you're so petrified of your ex-boyfriend."
I didn't want to do that. I never wanted to speak about him again.
"It’s a long story.”
It was all silent again and I thought this was it, he’d given up, but then—
"I have time.”