Fifteen
FIFTEEN
Reagan
I was warm.
So incredibly warm.
And comfortable.
I hadn’t experienced either of those things since before being kidnapped, and with my eyes still closed, it took me a few seconds to understand why I felt the way I did.
Everything came rushing back to me, and I recalled what had happened yesterday.
Hart showed up.
Hart showed up, and I ended the evening in a soft, comfortable bed with his big body wrapped around mine as I cried myself to sleep in his arms.
Apparently, I’d remained in his arms all night long. Only, Hart was no longer spooning me, as it seemed we’d shifted our bodies sometime in the middle of the night.
Hart was on his back, and I was curled into his right side with my palm resting against his bare chest and my thigh hooked over his. Hart’s arm was curled around the back of my body, holding me close to him.
Even if we hadn’t experienced what we had between us yesterday, even if we hadn’t exchanged all those harsh words, this arrangement still would have felt strange.
Because before I even wound up kidnapped, Hart never cuddled with me overnight. Hell, he’d never once spent the night with me for that to happen.
And now, it was safe to say I was beyond confused.
I saw a side of Hart I’d never seen before. I’d only ever known him to be kind, compassionate, honest, funny, and hardworking. Most of what I’d gotten from him yesterday had been anything but.
He’d said things I never imagined him saying, and he did things I never imagined him doing.
That Hart was even here left me feeling beyond furious.
But I was so conflicted. Because when I was led out of that cell yesterday, I had anticipated him leaving me to experience the same fate that Erin and so many of the other women had experienced, even if in a different way. I had believed he was going to force me to have sex with him.
Instead, we’d exchanged some awful words. That I even felt courageous enough to say everything I did without fear of him assaulting me the way Javier and Chris had should have told me something. I guess I thought there was nothing left for me to lose. If he didn’t like what I had to say and decided to shut me up, at least I could find comfort in knowing I didn’t back down.
Although there’d been those cutting words between us, Hart surprised me in another way. He hadn’t done anything I’d suspected he would have done once he got me back into this room with him. And while I had so much to be angry with him about, I could admit that it felt good to be in his arms now.
God, wasn’t that wrong?
Hart was here with the intention of buying me. He knew that women were being kidnapped and sold as sex slaves, and he was participating in it. That he hadn’t fully executed all of that by forcing me to perform any sexual favors just yet didn’t mean he wasn’t as guilty as the men who’d already come and gone, taking women and their dignity in the process.
What I couldn’t understand was why Hart had done all of this if what he’d said last night was true. He didn’t have any intention of touching me. If that was the case, what was he doing here?
I kept waiting for the other shoe to drop, for Hart to do what he’d said in that cell he liked doing—breaking a woman into submission. I couldn’t chalk it up to some kind of kink he had. Sure, he’d shown a level of dominance when we’d been intimate prior to this.
This was something else, though. I mean, he was breaking the law for this. And the reality was that if Hart had come to me and said he wanted to role play even more than we already did, I didn’t doubt I would have been all in. He could have had that fantasy fulfilled without needing to go to these lengths. Was this about something else for him?
At this point, I didn’t know what to trust.
Hart had said things that were truly awful, and he’d sent me those cold, cunning looks. But there had also been hints of the man I’d grown attached to and had known all along. He’d offered up his shirt, so I wouldn’t be so exposed. Then there was the fact that he’d made sure I was able to eat my first decent meal since I’d been kidnapped. And probably the most heartwarming of all was when he’d slid into the bed beside me, so he could hold me while I cried.
The kindness he’d shown me had been wholly unexpected, and I wondered if I’d experienced such horrible things since the day that I’d been taken from my home that I was willing to overlook truly awful things at the slightest hint of compassion.
I wanted to believe the best about Hart, but I couldn’t forget the things he’d said to and about me yesterday.
Feeling so conflicted, I realized I wasn’t doing myself any favors by staying where I was and pretending everything was okay. Hart wasn’t here to help me. I’d already learned that lesson a long time ago—nobody was ever going to care enough to stick around and be something good in my life.
So, having no clue where the day ahead would lead, I decided to give myself one more minute to soak up the last bit of physical comfort I could get in Hart’s arms. I shouldn’t have done it; I should have reminded myself how much I hated him, but I simply couldn’t. After everything that I’d been through, I was desperate for anything to soothe the pain of it all.
Unsure I’d gotten all that I’d need to get through the next day, but recognizing I couldn’t allow this to continue, I peeled my eyes open and pressed my palm lightly against Hart’s chest to get myself upright. His arm clamped firmly around me at the movement, keeping me right where I was.
When I tipped my chin up, I saw that Hart was already awake and looking down at me. “Everything okay?”
Not a chance, I thought.
“Fine,” I lied. “I… I didn’t mean to end up here.”
His eyes roamed over my face, and I wanted to believe I saw something there that looked like longing, or perhaps, even regret. “You didn’t pull out of my arms once all night long.”
“I just tried to, and you wouldn’t let me.”
“You were upset last night.”
His voice was so sweet and gentle; I could have easily fooled myself into believing he cared.
And I was upset last night.
Of course, I was.
What did he expect when I’d learned what a horrible mistake I’d made in allowing him into my life?
In the position I was in, I did my best to shrug it off. “A moment of weakness.”
“That’s funny. I thought you’ve been nothing but a fighter since you were brought here. That includes not just what happened before I got here, but after we wound up in this room last night.”
I pushed my palm against him again. This time, Hart released me, allowing me to get myself into a seated position beside him. I grabbed the pillow and hugged it tightly against my body. “I can’t just sit back and let everything happen to me without trying to fight to save myself.”
He offered a slight nod in return. “I know.”
Although I didn’t think I could handle more uncertainty or frightening situations, I was finding it difficult to manage this softer side of Hart. I needed some space.
My eyes darted across the room to the open door. “I… can I please use the bathroom?”
“Sure. Take all the time you need. Shower, if you’d like.”
More kindness. “Really?”
Hart nodded and spoke softly. “Yes, Reagan.”
Hesitantly, I slid out of the bed and rounded it to move to the opposite side of the room. I could feel Hart’s eyes on me the entire way there, and I started breathing again only after I’d gotten behind the closed door.
After leaning my hands on the edge of the sink and taking a few settling breaths, I took in my surroundings. The bathroom wasn’t anything special, but it was clean and had everything I needed to take a proper shower.
So, that’s what I did.
I took advantage of the kindness Hart showed me, and I spent all the time I needed in the bathroom. It was glorious. After going days without showers or only being given timed cold ones while I was watched, a warm shower behind closed doors felt like the greatest gift in the world. I wasn’t exactly eager to return to the awkwardness of the bedroom with Hart, but I couldn’t stay in the bathroom all day. Plus, it was probably better that I figured out what was in store for me today.
Once I’d finished up and had slipped Hart’s dress shirt back on, I opened the bathroom door and entered the bedroom again.
A delightful aroma in the air and a plate of food in Hart’s hands told me I’d been gone a lot longer than I thought.
“Feel better?” Hart asked.
I nodded.
“Good. Come and have breakfast with me.”
I crossed the room again and settled myself on top of the comforter. The plate was loaded up with eggs, bacon, and toast. There was a huge glass of orange juice and a cup of coffee on the bedside table, too. My mouth watered.
“Take what you’d like,” he urged me.
I wanted to taste all of it, but I settled for the easiest thing that I thought would give me the smallest chance of getting sick—a piece of toast.
Hart frowned but said nothing as I took a bite.
He’d grabbed a piece of bacon and ate that before he lifted the fork in his hand and tasted the scrambled eggs. After he took several bites, he held the loaded fork up to my mouth. “Open.”
I parted my lips and allowed him to feed me the eggs. And as I chewed, swallowed, and was given another bite, I wondered if this was how he planned to do it. Was this how he planned to break me?
Would he teach me to obey his commands that seemed so sweet, only to use that obedience against me later when he wanted me to do things that didn’t feel nearly as good? Was this what he had been doing all along for the last year?
If that was even a remote possibility, I realized I’d need all the physical strength I could muster up. So, I allowed him to continue sharing the eggs with me. I even picked up a piece of bacon and devoured that.
“Coffee or orange juice?” he asked.
“Juice, please.”
Hart handed me the glass, and my fingers instantly reacted to the cool temperature. I’d grown so accustomed to being parched or having miniscule amounts of lukewarm water to drink that the cold glass of orange juice felt like a little slice of Heaven. It tasted as much as it slid down my throat, too.
I drank about half of it before I stopped and offered Hart a sheepish look. “I’m sorry. Did you want some?”
Maybe it was the sugar rush or the full belly or the warm shower I’d gotten that was making me delirious, but I could have sworn I heard the amusement in his tone when he replied, “No, Reagan. You can have it.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive.”
For the next few minutes, Hart and I sat there and ate breakfast together. He continued feeding me eggs until I held up my hand and declined them. “I can’t.”
He finished off the rest, and once he set the plate off to the side, he slid out from beneath the blanket wearing nothing but his boxer briefs and strode to the bathroom. If this was a movie, I probably would have taken advantage of being left alone and tried to escape. But I didn’t doubt someone was stationed just outside the door. And for all the terrible things Hart had shown me since arriving here, there was still some good there. Plus, if I had to choose, I’d rather be here with him than in a cell, with Javier, or waiting for some stranger I didn’t know to come and use me how he pleased.
Hart emerged from the bathroom, wearing nothing but a towel around his waist. I cast my gaze to my lap as he crossed the room to get his clothes. Surprisingly, for a man who’d been unabashed by his nudity before, Hart didn’t get himself dressed in front of me. He went back into the bathroom before pulling on his clothes, which I found to be even more confusing.
He dug through his bag for a bit, fiddling with something inside. After, he looked at me and said, “Whatever’s going through your mind, you can ask.”
I chewed on my lip and fidgeted with my hands in my lap. If I brought up any of the things I’d been thinking about, would it lead to another showdown between us?
“What are you planning to do here?”
“I think I’ve made it perfectly clear why I’m here.”
Right.
So, I guess that meant it was unwise to put any stock in the shreds of hope I’d felt about the way he’d been with me since handing me his shirt last night. He was here to buy me and break me. He was here to make me hate him—just like he’d done to all the others before me. He’d said as much last night when I told him I hated him. He told me I wasn’t the only one who did.
“Was your life really that bad?” I asked, feeling a bit bold. If he was going to do this to me, I thought I deserved to know why.
Something unexpected washed over his expression, something dark and perhaps even a bit dangerous. “I beg your pardon.”
I didn’t talk to anyone about the life I lived, but maybe now was the time to tell my story. Or part of it anyway. “My parents abandoned me when I was a baby.”
Nine words.
Nine whole words were all it took for the energy in the room to shift. That energy shift was all coming from the man in front of me, but it was a mystery what was happening inside his head.
Since he wasn’t asking me to stop, I thought it was best to tell him more. “My parents abandoned me before I even knew who they were, and I wound up in the foster care system. I went from one home to another, being passed around like a shiny new toy. The only trouble was that nobody ever really cared. The family I stayed with the longest only kept me because of the money they got in return, and they only did the bare minimum to keep from getting into any trouble. I eventually got a boyfriend, and he showed me how much he cared when he decided to cheat on me. I’ve never had a home, Hart. I have a house now, or, I guess I had one, but it doesn’t come with all the things you hear about a home being. It didn’t feel the way they tell you a home is supposed to feel. Why do you think I made a career out of helping people find homes for themselves and their families? Why do you think I buy birdhouses?”
Hart’s hands were balled into fists at his side, his jaw clenching with some elevated level of fury. I still had not a clue what he was thinking—if he was angry with me for sharing or not—but when he remained silent, I went in for the kill.
“I experienced all of that, never having anyone love me my whole life, and I still tried to do something good with myself.” His throat bobbed, and a muscle in his cheek twitched. “So, I ask again. Was your life really so bad that you thought abusing women was the way to right all the wrongs done to you?”
At least an entire minute had passed without Hart uttering a single word. And when he finally did, I wasn’t exactly surprised that he didn’t even acknowledge anything I’d shared with him.
“There’s a man guarding this room,” he began, his tone having dropped to a lethal level. “If you stay here, he will not come inside. If you choose to walk out at any point today without me, you won’t get far. You’d need to get past him, all the way back to the hall with your cell, and make it to the end of that before running through the door at the far end of that next hall. You’d have to do that before someone saw you and stopped you. And let’s face it—without the element of surprise or even a weapon to defend yourself, that’s not going to happen. So, it’s your choice as to what you do, but if you try to run and they capture you, I won’t stop whatever happens next.”
With that, Hart turned, crouched down to his bag, and grabbed something. Then, without giving me another look, he moved to the door and walked out.