Captured Boxed Set: 9 Alpha Bad-Boys Who Will Capture Your Heart (79 page)

THE AIRPORT BAR reeked of sad
goodbyes and tears.
Just like my soul.

I rolled my eyes. I didn’t like the
sort of person Jethro made me. Someone who only saw the negative and was ruled
by fear.
I’m an award winning designer. I’m wealthy in my own right.

The unknown future crushed my
heart, but it was the thought of losing myself while it happened that scared me
the most.

"I need a drink. I’ll get you
one, too," Jethro muttered.

I spun to face him. Big mistake. I
stumbled to the left, cursing the suddenly tilting room. My vertigo wasn’t
normally this bad. An episode a day was my norm, not every time I tried to
move. 

A cold hand grasped my elbow. "That
condition you have—it’s really getting on my nerves."

The floor steadied beneath my feet;
I tore my arm from his hold. "Leave me alone then. Get on the plane and
let me fall over in peace."

He shook his head, gold eyes
darkening with impatience. "I have a much better idea."

I looked away, taking in the low
square-line sofas, sad plastic plants, and dirty carpeting.
This can’t be
happening.
Everything seemed surreal. I was at the airport with a man who’d
threatened the lives of my brother and father. I was about to climb on a plane
with him. I was about to
disappear
.

And probably never be found.

It wasn’t rational. It was
completely nonsensical.

Suddenly a drink sounded perfect.
Alcohol and vertigo didn’t mix, but damned if I wanted to exist full of grief
and horror.

Jethro motioned toward a booth by
the window where large spotlights turned the black sea of tarmac into false
daylight, casting a warm glow on sleeping jumbo jets ready to depart.

Not giving me a chance to say
anything else, or to even relay my preference, he stalked away, beelining for
the bar.

 
Quick. Now.

The moment he had his back to me, I
pulled my cell phone from my jacket pocket. He said I could keep it. He said I
could talk to anyone I chose. He hadn’t said when—now or when we got to his
‘home’, but I desperately needed Vaughn.

My eyes burned as I unlocked the
screen. Hunching over the glowing device, I did as my captor ordered and made
my way to the booth.

Typing in the number I knew by
heart and practically the only number I ever called, I sucked in a breath.

A wall planted itself in my way.

A cold, unforgiving wall.

My head snapped up. Jethro crossed
his arms, anger radiating from every inch. "What are you doing?"

I swallowed hard; my palms grew
slippery with nervousness. "You said I could keep my phone. You said—"

"I know what I
said
. I
may not stop you, but you still need permission. I am, after all, in control of
your life from now on." Peering into my eyes, he added, "Don’t make a
rash decision you can’t undo, Ms. Weaver." His English accent clipped my
name in an unfamiliar way. He spoke it as if it were dirt. A filthy word
contaminating his mouth.

My finger hovered over the call
button for my twin. The one man who I could say anything to and he would
understand. Summoning what useless power I had, I said, "Please, may I
make a phone call? I won’t be stupid. I know what’s on the line."

Jethro tutted under his breath. "That’s
the problem. You
don’t
know. You think you do. You think all of this is
a joke. You’re not grasping the depth of what this means, nor will you until
you’ve been educated."

Taking a step, closing the distance
between us, he breathed, "But you do know one thing. You know what I will
tolerate. Lying to me is another offence that comes with swift punishment. Stay
honest, polite, and obedient and your heart will remain beating."

I wanted to scream at him. His
quiet voice was worse than being yelled at. It was so…decent…so eloquent. It
made all of this seem normal. And it so wasn’t. So not normal.

"I understand. Do I have your
permission?" My jaw ached I gritted so hard, refraining from what I really
wanted to say. If I wasn’t so afraid of this psycho I would hit him. I would
leap onto his back and pummel him until he bled. Just to see if he
did
bleed, because a part of me expected him to be nothing but stone.

He frowned. "Fine. But I’ll
remain in earshot for this first conversation."

I shook my head. "No. I need
privacy."

He smiled—a thin ribbon of emotion.
"You need to realize privacy is a luxury you’ll no longer have. Everything
you do from now on will be monitored by me. Nothing will be hidden. Everything
must be approved."

Everything? A horrible image of me
begging to go to the bathroom only to be refused filled my mind. Not only had
he taken me for something I didn’t understand, he’d stolen my basic rights as a
human.

I truly am a pet
.

Jethro’s hand whipped out, stealing
my phone.

No!
Being separated from it made all of this far too real. The starkness of my
situation hammered at my soul.

Staring at the screen, he scrolled
rudely through my contacts. My very limited contacts. His eye twitched, handing
the device back. "You seem to live in a world dominated by males. The only
names in your preferred lists are men, aside from a mysterious entry Kite007."
He stiffened. "Care to tell me if that person is female? I somehow doubt
it, seeing as it’s clearly a reference to the ridiculous James Bond Franchise."

Snatching the phone, I said, "I
don’t care to tell you anything. Leave me alone. I’m calling my brother. I gave
you my word I wouldn’t jeopardise whatever you’re planning until I know the
full story."

Jethro placed his hands into his
pockets. His cream shirt and diamond pin were the epitome of class. In an
ordinary circumstance, I would’ve been honoured and thrilled to have a date
with a man with deliciously thick greying hair and a handsome face. I’d always
preferred men over boys.

But he had to ruin it.

He ruined everything.

Jethro didn't move. Just stood
there. Silently.

There was no winning. He wouldn’t
raise his voice or strike me to get his way—not in public anyway—but his
posture intimidated me until I gave in.

Staring at the awaiting number, I
deliberated against calling V. What did I hope to achieve? It would kill me to
hear his voice
. But what if it’s a lie and the moment he’s got you where no
one can see, he takes the only thing you have left?

I couldn’t risk it. Not if I could
speak to V one last time.

Locking eyes with my
gorgeously-groomed nemesis, I pressed the ‘call’ button and held the phone to
my ear.

Being granted no privacy was
horrid. My back stayed straight and all feelings of weakness were buried beneath
false strength.

Do not cry. Do. Not. Cry.

The call connected on the first
ring.

Vaughn never kept me waiting,
almost as if he sensed it was me calling—twin empathy connecting us once again.

Shit, what if he hears?
What if he sensed my unhappiness? How would I stop him from coming
for me—wherever I was going.

Vaughn’s husky voice came down the
line. "Nila. Tell me where you are. I’m coming to get you. Tex is acting
really strange, and I’m done not being able to get a straight answer."

I sighed, turning my back on
Jethro, staring at the airplanes below. So many things ran through my head. I
wanted to ask how Dad was acting strange. What all of this meant. But I kept it
all bottled up. For him. For them.

"I’m fine, V. I’m…"

I need you. Come get me. Save me
please.

"You don’t sound fine. Where
are you?"

In hell with a monster.

Looking around the bar, I shrugged.
"I’m exactly where I need to be."

To keep you safe.

"Stop with the bullshit,
Threads. What’s really going on?"

Sighing hard, I pressed a palm against
my feverish forehead. I sucked at lying. Especially to V. "Something’s
come up. I’m going away for a little while. A holiday where I can unwind. I
should be able to contact you—if the Wi-Fi and phone lines are good." I
couldn’t stop rambling. "Tonight really put a strain on me, you know? It
came together so well, but it wasn’t easy—you saw how bad it got toward the
end. I just need—"

"What you need is a fucking
spanking. You don’t just leave without talking this through!" Vaughn
paused, a disbelieving huff coming down the line. "You can’t be serious.
We had plans. You said you’d come with me when I went to Bangkok next week for
more merchandise. We’ve booked the flights and everything."

I didn’t want to be reminded of
everything I was walking away from.

"I’m sorry, but I can’t go.
You have to trust me and not push. Just accept what I’m telling you and that I
need some alone time, okay? You’ll be able to contact me by phone and email."

"This is bullshit."

"V, please. Be supportive,
like you always are."

Don’t make this ten times harder
to say goodbye.

"Skype? I need to see you,
Threads. Something doesn’t feel right. You’re keeping things from me."

A firm fingertip prodded my
shoulder. Jethro whispered, "No Skype."

I didn’t know how he heard V and
didn’t want to ask why Skype wasn’t permitted. Why doesn’t he want my family to
see me?
Because who knows what you’ll look like when he’s finished.

The fear I’d been able to keep
leashed suddenly swamped me. I moved forward, collapsing into an uncomfortable
booth.

"Threads. Threads?"
Vaughn’s voice echoed down the line. "Goddammit, Nila. What the fuck is
going on?"

Sighing, I rested my elbows on the
table. The weight of aloneness and depression settled heavily. "I don’t
know," I whispered.

The phone disappeared from my
fingertips. "Hello, Mr. Weaver. We met earlier. Jethro Hawk." Jethro
glowered, making me wish the seat would devour me.

A loud stream of curses came
through the phone. Jethro pinched the bridge of his nose. "No, see that’s
where you’re wrong. If you have an issue with me enjoying your sister for a
time, speak to your father. For now, Nila is mine, and I won’t have anyone
saying differently."

He held the mobile away from his
ear for a second while Vaughn exploded. A furious shadow darkened his face.

Jethro gripped the phone, growling
like a rabid wolf. "That’s none of your concern. I’m taking her. I’ve
already
taken her. And there’s nothing you can do. Goodbye, Mr. Weaver. Don’t make me
regret my kind generosity toward your sister so soon."

He hung up, tossing me the useless
phone. "If you want a piece of advice on how to survive the coming months,
don’t talk to your brother again unless you want to pay a serious price. He’s
detrimental to your willingness to obey, and a fuckwit."

Tears welled. I didn’t want to cry.
Damned if I’d shed anymore useless liquid over this bastard.

"Don’t call him a—" I
stopped mid-sentence. There really wasn’t any point in arguing. He’d win. Just
like he’d won up till now without a curse uttered or shout yelled.

I’m meek
. He was controlling me with no ropes or chains or curses. I was
under his horrible spell, threatened by the illusion of him murdering the
people I held most dear.

My eyes flickered toward the exit
behind him. Jethro followed my gaze. He side-stepped, waving his arm toward the
temptation of running. "You want to leave? Go. If you’re so selfish to let
others die for you, I’m not going to stop you. One phone call from me, Ms.
Weaver, and it all ends for them."

I didn’t move, deliberation a heavy
cross on my shoulders. How could I sit there and let him take control of my
life? But how could I ever live with myself if I ran?