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As my hard edges begin to sharpen and my armor builds around me, I prepare myself for yet another battle and another endless fucking mind game that will call upon every conniving thought in my head because how the hell am I going to get out of this one?
A movement from the corner of the room tells me I’m not alone and I turn my head toward the shadows and an icy hand grips my heart. There he is. The man who did this and I push down the fear I probably should pay attention to and hiss, “Let me go, you fucking bastard.”
He steps into the light, and I note the arrogance of a man who is both beautiful and deadly in equal measures. An Arab prince perhaps. He certainly looks like that and as his dark eyes burn into me, they scorch my soul and set it on fire, causing me to hitch my breath and bask in the flames.
“Eliza Ortega.”
His voice is like silk, dragging over my body and causing it to arch toward him, a shiver of expectation reminding me how fucked up I am. I’ve always relished danger. Craved it even, and the darker the better. Having been immersed in it all my life, it’s part of the fabric that makes up my soul and I bend toward it like a flower to the sun because it’s my normal. It’s my life, and the one thing I understand.
“I told you; you’ve got the wrong woman. My name is Delores Brown, so untie me and take me home before I call the cops.”
A low laugh is my answer, and an amused, “Are you delirious? Perhaps that pressure point erased reality from your brain because we both know who you are, so give me what I need and lets get this over with.”
“Then kill me now. I couldn’t give a fuck.”
I close my eyes, imagining his hard cruel fingers wrapping around my throat and squeezing the life from my body. Perhaps a bullet to the brain would be preferable, or then again, a lethal injection would be kinder. Anything but having the truth forced out of me because nothing is more terrifying than that.
The bed dips and I hitch my breath as I stare into two pools of danger that flash and promise me a hard, painful time ahead. I focus on the man watching me like a demon circling and all I can think of is how magnificent he is. The dark hair framing an autocratic face that appears to have been sculpted from the finest marble. The dark glittering eyes that purge deep into my soul and the shadow on his jaw reminding me he is all man.
He is wearing a tight t-shirt that is clinging on for dear life to a body sculpted from the image of Zeus and the black silk pants he is wearing tell me he is a man who appreciates the finer things in life. His legs are crossed as he considers me like a pet project and I suppose I am to him. His eyes burn against my skin as he drags them the length of my body, causing the traitorous bitch in me to react to that and wave a fucking invitation in his face to do whatever he likes with it. It’s his for the taking because it craves a dangerous man, and it has never met one more dangerous than him.
“Pervert.”
I say through gritted teeth, and he shrugs, “I can appreciate art without touching.”
For some reason, his words make me smile, reminding me what a basket case I am because nothing about this situation is normal and certainly doesn’t require a nod of appreciation for his admiration.
He leans forward and stares with a curious fascination, as if I’m an exhibit in the petting zoo and for a fleeting moment, I wish I was. Just imagining this man taking me into his arms and stroking my skin causes me to close my eyes and have a good hard word with myself. I need to shut him out and close my mind to the possibilities because he is the enemy, and I would be wise to remember that.
“Open your eyes.”
I squeeze them tighter and hiss, “Fuck off.”
A low laugh is my answer and then a soft hand touches my skin, causing them to open in surprise and snap, “Take your hands off me.”
My words are at odds with my wishes because my body is screaming for this man to touch me, in fact, to touch every part of me and I hate myself more than him at this moment.
I note the hard edge to his words as he growls, “You are now my prisoner. You have been brought here under my control and will remain tied to this bed, naked and without privilege, until you give me the information I want.”
I say nothing and he nods, knowing that he now has my full attention and his voice slides inside and coats every part of me.
“I only want one thing, and if you’re smart, you will tell me and bring an end to your misery. Then I’ll send you on your way with an airline ticket of your choice and enough money to start again with a new identity.”
My heart starts thumping as I sense this could be the answer to my prayers and I stare at him with what I’m certain is hope reflected in my eyes.
“Where is Frankie?”
A thousand thoughts run through my head as if my life is flashing before me. My childhood, my mother and my three brothers. In the center of it all stands my father, and I understand the only way out of this nightmare is death. My heart sinks when I watch hope dragged away from me and crushed under my father’s boot and any hope I just experienced vaporizes, leaving me empty and resigned to the journey ahead.
“My name is Delores Brown, and I don’t know what the fuck you are talking about.”
I close my eyes, anticipating the blows to rain down on me as they usually do when I disobey an order and yet all I’m left with is silence.
I open my eyes, expecting to pick up where we just left off and note the room is now empty. For a moment I’m disappointed about that which confuses me a little. He’s gone. I should be happy about that—shouldn’t I?
My attention goes to my predicament, and I tug on my bonds, testing their strength. It’s a basic instinct to try to break free from captivity, something I know a lot about because I have spent my life planning my escape. I’ve always yearned for freedom, which would involve a new identity, or the removal of the person who owns the lock to my cell. It’s why I’m here now and why I will never speak, because that’s all I have. A promise. A vow to end this once and for all and the situation may have changed a little, but the end objective has not. I must cut the head off the snake to be liberated.
I cannot fail and whatever that man decides to do to me won’t change that.
