1. Captor

1

CAPTOR

SOPHIA

The sky bleeds pink through a small hopper window in the basement, where I'm currently being held against my will. Its shade has to be much lighter than the crimson drop I feel dribbling down my face, an unwelcome present from my assailant's Glock across my temple.

"How'd you find me?" My attempt to hide the quiver in my voice falters.

Julian Caddell's eyes are dark, impenetrable, and his reply is equally terse. "You and your sister were never lost."

If my hands weren't bound, I'd smack the smug bastard.

"Tell me, Sophia, how did your freedom taste? Did the thrill of the run excite you as much as the chase did me?"

The threat that loomed over me for a decade has finally caught up with me. Said threat is here to serve his retribution or take what he claims he's owed.

"I'm going to take your silence as a yes, seeing as you just kept running. "

No wonder my father stole from him. He's a real jackass.

"Did the safety of being in another country help you sleep at night, or did you dream of me and wake, screaming my name?"

"I dreamed of your face on Freddy Krueger's body. Though your presence in real life is even more repulsive."

A thin smile forms on his lips. "You don't look so hot yourself unless you're into blood, bondage, and body odor."

I know I've been touring with a group of rock artists when the chorus of AC/DC's "Night Prowler" plays in my mind as Caddell's repulsive voice sounds around me.

He is a night prowler.

Cultivating a suggestive smile, I flash it at my abductor. "You pegged me all right. The three B's are my favorite."

Defiance is my middle name.

"What about the three D's? Despair, despondency, and death?"

Hope vanishes at the recognition of his question. My smart-ass mouth has saved me more times than I can count. This might actually be the one time that I can't bullshit my way out of a situation. This might be the day I'm forced to stop running. I'm keenly aware of the look he offers me when he comprehends what I just realized as well.

I'm royally screwed.

Though I don't answer his question, I'm sure my face speaks for itself. No one even knows I've been abducted, and the last person to see me was Mazen, who looked almost relieved by my sudden departure.

"I asked you a fucking question." Anger surges in his veins. The smile that displays on his taut, worn face is borderline satanic. Roughly, he grabs my face, fingers pressing into my jaw with force.

That's going to leave a mark.

"Screw you and your questions. I don't owe you anything."

A diabolical laugh bubbles from his mouth. "That's where you're wrong. Very wrong. Contrary to whatever notion is in that pretty head, you owe me. A lot. I'm guessing there isn't a checkbook in that bag you were carrying off the plane though, is there?"

My silence rings loud.

"I didn't think so. There are other ways to get what I want."

My stomach bottoms out. Please, no, I chant in my mind.

I've read enough dark romance and watched enough television shows to know that men love the fight, the chase. I decide to play my hand using a different angle—again, shout-out to the dark romance authors of the world.

"I haven't been properly fucked in a while. Go ahead. Untie me, and have at it," I lie through my teeth, using some bookish backbone and reverse psychology.

There's nothing more I want than to be untied. At least then, I might have a fighting chance.

His disapproving glare cuts me like a knife. "You foolish girl. I'm not going to rape you. What kind of monster do you think I am?"

"You're gauging pretty high on my psychopath index." Swiveling my head around the dim basement, I add, "I am tied to a chair in a basement, am I not?"

"I'm a businessman, not a rapist. I can assure you of that." His uncompromising voice is surprisingly tender.

I sigh in relief, accepting his words hold truth.

"I might have no choice but to kill you though. That verdict is still out. "

As the real warning leaves his tight-lipped mouth, I know with certainty that this is the last time I'm fleeing my past. It's caught up to me, staring me in the face like a tiger about to eat its prey. I've never felt sorrier for a baby elephant in my entire life.

There's a sudden feeling of acceptance that registers deep in the marrow of my bones. This ends today. Even if the source of payment is my death.

I'm tired of running, looking over my shoulder, pretending that my world didn't tumble off its axis when his thugs came after me last time. I'm even more tired of being the protector. That duty has worn me thin over the years.

My eyes close, heavy from staring at the same wall all night. Maybe my body has caught up with my heart, and my subconscious is surrendering too. I can do this for her. I can protect her life one more time by offering up my own.

Lacey will be free of this ugly curse once our father's debt is paid.

Before I tap out, a lingering question slides off my tongue. "What is Knox's part in all this? The nephew tidbit was shocking—I'll give you that. But there's something else. What am I missing?"

Caddell's voice is strident, and a mixture of rasp and influence draws my eyes open again. "Loyalty means something to our family."

My tired, heavy lashes fly up. I'm instantly wide awake. The conversation with Knox when he surprised me at the airport flashes in my mind.

"My uncle … Julian. You remember him, don't you?"

I have a hard time believing that he'd give up years of his own life just to follow me around like a shadow. He's a tattoo artist, for Christ's sake. I was his apprentice. He has a whole career outside of aiding his piece-of-shit uncle in his stalking endeavors.

"You might have thought you had a leg up on me, that you were off my radar. Sadly for you, you'd be profoundly mistaken. I'm appalled that you think so little of me. Of the power and pull that I have. Is it because you think your father outsmarted me? You figure if he could, then so could you."

"He obviously didn't outsmart you. He's in prison."

If I weren't watching his every movement like a hawk now, I would have missed the forceful swallow that slides past his Adam's apple.

"Indeed, he is."

"Why didn't you just kill him?" Every curve of my body flinches.

"We're getting off topic here. We can swing back to all those pesky little details later."

Biting the inside of my cheek, I inhale deeply, filling my lungs with courage. Even if I've accepted my fate, my sass won't allow me to go down easy. Words fly out of my mouth involuntarily. "I asked how you found me anyway, not why."

How did he know I was touring with the band Kings of Jupiter, and how did he know I'd be on their private plane last night?

Knox might have been keeping tabs on me, but no one is Jason Bourne good. Except maybe Jason Bourne.

"I already know the why. You made sure of it when you sent your last warning. The one that ended in me burying my son." My spine hardens at the memory. I steel my shoulders and push past the grief that collects in my chest like dust in an abandoned building. "If Knox is your nephew, why are you just now showing me your face? You've had ten years to demand payment. Something changed. It had to have. Is your empire crumbling? Is that it?" I don't cower or retreat. I must be on to something. "Did Daddy steal more than money? It was your pride, wasn't it? You can't sleep at night, knowing that someone broke that so-called loyalty you admire so much."

Cracking his fingers, he ignores my questions altogether, giving no hint that I've hit the nail on the head.

"I can't thank Knox enough really. He's been patient. Bided his time. I think he's earned his spot as my right hand. Don't you think, Sophia?"

"You both can go straight to hell," I say through gritted teeth before spitting on his designer shoes.

Saliva and blood splay on the toe of his shoe moments before his fingers tangle in my hair, yanking my head backward.

Using the large palm of his free hand, he skirts it across my cheek in a reverberating smack. My head can't move from the impact because he's holding me firmly in place. I refuse to show how badly it hurts, both physically and emotionally.

Fortifying myself like armor, I close my eyes, begging my tears not to fall. Even if I'm ready to die to protect Lacey, to end this cat-and-mouse game, I refuse to show him one ounce of weakness. On an inhale, I open my eyes, lift my chin as far as his hard grip on my head will allow, and boldly meet his stare once more.

Slicing me with precision, Caddell's hooded eyes bore into mine. "You want to know how , you little bitch? When you left Chicago, Knox followed your career all the way to Tampa. Your profession is a truly small circle. It wasn't hard to keep tabs on you. The how isn't the question you should be asking." His grip tightens on my scalp. "It's the why now. Go on, ask."

His command falls on deaf ears when I refuse his bait. He doesn't deserve my words, only my wrath. He's already stolen too much from me.

My trust in humanity. My heart. My child.

"I said, ask!" Spit sprays my face as he bellows. "You're going to regret not listening. Just like your father did. He couldn't leave well enough alone."

My heartbeat skyrockets at his jab. There's a piece of the puzzle I'm missing. There's got to be. It's like Caddell is obsessed with my father or something. The man who betrayed my sister and me, leading us to the lion he'd once claimed as a friend and delivering us on a silver platter. My father chose to get into metaphorical bed with an unhinged maniac, and now, we're paying the consequences for his actions.

The rawness of my situation overwhelms me as I sit, tied to a wooden chair in the center of this basement. My head is throbbing like it's been used as a human punching bag.

Oh, wait. It has.

Knox's pent-up resentment—most likely over my ending things with him years ago—was felt in his every punch. He was resourceful in the time between when he pulled me from the backseat of the vehicle and when he heaved me by my hair down the steps, not giving a flying fuck as I screamed in agony mere inches behind him. My eye is swollen shut—that much is certain. I block out the physical pain, choosing to focus on the emotional turmoil. My imminent death is a reminder that I can do this. I can be strong right now. I can face death with pride, knowing that Lacey will be free once our father's debt is paid .

I'm a far cry from weak. This battle just isn't worth fighting anymore. I no longer care about the how or why. If Julian Caddell wants to get his rocks off by beating me, killing me, so be it. I won't give him what he wants, longs for … my fear. I refuse to run from him or cower to him any longer.

I'll welcome the pain he inflicts, becoming as unhinged as my captor.

I won't allow him to hunt us like prey any longer. Lacey is my only living relative, and I'll give my life if it means ending this war with him just to keep her safe. She has a means to survive as co-owner of our tattoo studio and apparently the adoration of Devon, our security guard, from what my groggy brain remembers from her frantic phone call what seems like days ago.

Musty air wafts around us, cloaking me in dread as I sit in the dingy basement that is imprisoning me like a jail cell. My mind is languid, absent of faith. The numbness helps camouflage my deep desire to claw Caddell's eyes out of their wrinkly sockets and feed them to him.

Said eyes peer at me triumphantly when he notices my defeat as my spine curves in my chair in a clear show of my forfeit.

"Your father's a fucking rat. Seems like he could have learned a thing or two from you. Maybe then he wouldn't have run his mouth like the little pussy that he is. You're not a pussy, are you, Sophia? I can see it in your eyes … eye."

What I'd do to see myself in a mirror right now. As superficial as that sounds, I know my talent as a tattoo artist has only gotten me so far. The fact that I'm an attractive woman has aided me in more ways than one. I guess my looks no longer matter at this point .

His maniacal laughter drags me back. "They're darker than his were."

"Fucking kill me already. I'm as good as dead anyway, right? I can't pay his debt, but you already knew that. Just get it over with." Unbridled anger sets in my tone as I stare at him with a burning in my eyes that I hope he feels. Any lingering vulnerability vanishes, and my spine straightens once again.

I swallow hard, not even trying to hide my contempt for him. "Or are you the only pussy in this room?"

Caddell stands before me, tall and irritable. His face is a glowering mask of rage.

As if hearing his own voice pleases him, he opens his mouth, and a rush of words comes out on exhale. "My daughter's been a mess. Fucking hysterics."

Why the hell is he telling me about his daughter?

"Crying all the time about some singer who fell head over heels for his tattoo artist. The punk she idolized, Mazen Wilde, has apparently settled down. Imagine my surprise when she read an article from one of those tabloids she subscribes to online and saw your face on-screen, right next to her heartthrob. A heartthrob that I happen to know personally."

The strange surge of affection I feel when he speaks Mazen's name is both rousing and frightening. Alarm knots in the pit of my already-hollow stomach.

Disoriented thoughts scamper around Mazen's farewell. "Where is your son?"

A question floats to the surface of my tired mind, a small reprieve from the conversation with my captor.

How did Mazen know about Roman?

Sharp like a laser, Caddell's beady eyes look like they're ready to cut me in half, impaling me with hatred .

"Imagine my fucking surprise," Caddell says in a disgruntled voice, drawing me back to my harsh reality, as his large, demonic eyes sweep over me once more. "When she showed me a picture of you and the Tommy Lee wannabe of this generation. He always was a pain in his father's ass," he says the last part under his breath. "Instantly, my left palm started itching. You know what that means, right?"

A mixture of curses gallops through my mind. In my heart, I always knew him finding Lacey and me was a huge possibility. We haven't lived our lives in the shadows—a fact I now regret. No one with a popular, blooming business could accomplish all we have while in hiding. Rather, I gave myself a false illusion that the distance between Chicago and Tampa kept us safe. Like the miles were enough to keep my fears from invading my reality.

Keeping my eyes trained on the porous brick wall adjacent to me, I silently curse myself. The media and their damn need for pictures.

I did this. I put a target on our backs.

There's no one to blame but myself. And my piece-of-shit father. Incarcerated or not, he's the one at fault for this whole mess. Daddy dearest set this all in motion and left his daughters to sink or swim. We've been swimming against the current for so long … too long.

What I can blame myself for is accepting Oliver's proposition. Agreeing to fake date Mazen and falling for three men that I vowed not to just a month earlier. It seems like I've known them for years instead of weeks. I guess that's what happens when you basically live with someone, spend every waking minute with them. My cheeks burn in remembrance of the Kings, my clients turned employers turned lovers .

"Money," he says amusedly, answering his own question. "The look in the eyes of that sorry waste of space appears genuine enough though. Even on-screen." Caddell draws back my attention. "Like the fool might actually be in love with you."

My pride keeps me from disagreeing. Sheer willpower forbids me from trembling at his assessment.

"One might even call it fate, seeing as he is the father of your child."

A myriad of emotions sweeps through my mind in a tailspin, like a tornado wrecking every single memory that once stood firm and certain in my life.

One second passes. Then another before his words really set in. My bottom jaw comes unhinged at about the same time my eyes widen as big as a football field in confusion. If my hands weren't tied behind the chair, rendering me immobile, I know they'd be covering my mouth. I wheeze in paralyzing disbelief. Stunned into silence.

He uses my unexpected submission to dig deeper, twisting the knife he just impaled in my stomach. "Surely, you're not naive enough to not have known or at least considered him as the possible sperm donor, right?"

I shrink in my chair, shriveling inward by his question. There's no way. Is there?

"A little footwork is all it took. Knox pieced the puzzle all together. Little shit will definitely be getting the promotion he's been after. The look on your face is priceless." His voice carries more than a hint of boastfulness. "You didn't even consider him? Damn. This is good. Almost better than collecting what I'm owed."

A raucous laugh echoes around us.

Caddell's amusement at my grief and confusion is almost as revolting as his little lap-dog nephew, Knox .

How could I have been so blind to not see that Knox—my friend, mentor, lover—had been planted in my life? Could the same be said for Mazen? The suggestion of Caddell's implication would rewrite … everything.

Stupid, stupid Sophia.

I want to protest his accusation. I want to open my mouth with dismay, tell him to cram his idiotic story down his throat. To choke on it. I want to do all those things, but I can't. Because a sickening feeling stirs inside of me. A sliver of doubt.

What if he's telling the truth?

A possibility. A horrible possibility.

I was young and reckless, not blind. Surely, I'd remember him, Mazen Wilde … if he fathered my child. No one with two eyes, a beating heart, and a clit could forget him.

"No." The pain etched into my strained voice is startling.

I huff in thin air, refusing to believe anything this vile man is spewing. Lies. Wave after wave of apprehension shocks me like another blow to my already-battered face.

If I wasn't already numb, void of tears and sentiment, I know a heavy stream would be visible.

"No, no, that's not true," I plead with the universe as my mind reels, trying to make sense of the giant bomb that was just tossed onto my lap.

Now is not the time to ponder on his lies.

I don't need a mirror to know that my pea green eyes widen in disbelief as I stare wordlessly at Julian Caddell, bemused by his allegation. As much as I want to throttle him for tormenting me with his hand and for his deceitful-as-sin nephew using his fists on me, it's this claim that has me shouting in his smug face.

"You're grasping at a narrative that doesn't exist. You want your payback for my father's wrongdoings. You want the money he owes you. You want retaliation … you come after me and me alone. My sister… "

What are the members of Kings of Jupiter to me? Hookups? Boyfriends? Bosses?

I settle with the easiest choice—friends.

"My friends. That's where I draw a line. You can weave any lie you want. I refuse to believe it. Mazen has nothing to do with any of this. Leave him the fuck out of this mess, our mess. Better yet, just kill me already!"