A Captive Situation (Kings of New York)

After showering and finding some clothes to change into, my stomach was rumbling by the time I left the room. I didn’t want to give him any credit; the aromas coming from the kitchen were too much for me to resist. A part of me considered going on a hunger strike, more to just be a pain in the ass than any other reason. I was pissed about all of this. Pissed that we’d been shot at twice. Pissed that he kidnapped me.

Pissed that I ran maybe three miles only to be carried back like I was a giant toddler.

I decided to take a stand that it was three miles, not however long he said. He didn’t know what he was talking about. So yeah.

I was pissed.

That was the only reason I wanted to join him, so I could piss him off. If I was going to be miserable, so was he.

I watched him for a moment when he wasn’t aware of my presence. He was at the stove, his head down as he was staring at his phone, idly stirring whatever was in the pot, and I saw the exhaustion on his face.

Exhaustion and other emotions, ones that made my stomach get all twisty inside as I didn’t know if I wanted to try and decipher them, but it was enough of an unguarded moment for me to push away the immaturity of an adult temper tantrum.

He’d changed into sweats and an old-school vintage varsity Henley.

My mouth watered a little bit, seeing how he looked in that shirt. There was a hockey emblem on it, but I didn’t recognize the team.

My mouth was watering from whatever he was cooking. I cleared my throat. “What’d you make?”

He put his phone away, stuffing it into his back pocket, and glanced over his shoulder. His eyes ran over me, lingering on my bare feet and calves—I’d pulled up the sweats I found so they were just under my knees—before sweeping back to my face. They narrowed, holding on my lips, where I was biting down on my bottom one, then rose and held my gaze. Hunger flared in him, hot and primal for a moment.

He was attracted to me.

My own arousal flared, which pissed me off all over again.

He didn’t deserve that. Whatever the earlier connection had been between us, he killed that. It was destroyed.

It should’ve been gone.

I clamped down on the throb that was starting between my legs. Not today, you traitorous pussy.

I was definitely ignoring my own body’s reaction, and half glared at him. “That is food, right?”

He blinked again, some of the hunger banking. “I made soup. If you don’t like soup, tough shit.” He glared back, some of his heat morphing into hostility. He gestured to a cupboard. “There’s bowls up there. Crackers.”

I pulled out two bowls but didn’t move from the counter. He was in front of the food. I was not going over there to get it, not with him so close.

He must’ve sensed my thoughts because he made a grunting sound and reached for the bowls. Our fingers grazed each other as I held one out to him. His eyes jumped back to mine, staring into me. Hard. Searching for . . . I didn’t know. I shoved down all of my thoughts. There was no way I was letting him in so he could read me.

He saw the wall slam down and his only reaction was that he tensed, but he said roughly, “Here.”

I took it, making sure not to touch him, and went to the table. I was starting to sit, when he stopped me, saying, “Living room. Might as well get comfortable for what I need to tell you.”

That sent my stomach into a whole new tizzy, tightening up.

Grabbing a spoon and a napkin that he’d laid out, I stalked to the other room. Curling up in a corner of one of the couches, I glared as he joined me. There were two couches in the room with a television in the corner. The front door was in the opposite corner.

He walked in carrying his soup and two water bottles. He didn’t hand it to me or bring it over to me. He sat on the opposite couch. We couldn’t have been farther apart unless there were other chairs and one was positioned literally right in front of the door. He tossed one of the bottles so it landed next to me.

I glared. I was going to do all the glaring I wanted because I had a right to be livid.

I stated, “So.”

His eyes lifted from his soup, finding me. Darkening.

I folded my legs underneath me, getting more comfortable, holding my soup up in front of me as I lifted the spoon. “Who the hell are you, Jake Worthing?”

The corner of his mouth lifted up, slightly, but it was gone as quick as it appeared. If I hadn’t been watching him, I would’ve missed it. Then he got serious, his face getting scary. “A while ago, my younger brother met and fell in love with a woman. Her name was Kelly. He fell hard and fast, and well, that’s the beginning of all of this, or maybe it was the night they were both murdered.”

I sucked in some air. “I’m sorry.” I hadn’t known his brother was murdered, but I’d heard how his body was found.

Damn.

He dropped his gaze, setting his soup on the nearest end table. “I mentioned this earlier, but some of my family are cops and there’s another whole section that’s pretty much the opposite.” He looked up, meeting my eyes. “They’re in the Mafia.”

My mouth dried up quickly.

My hands began shaking so I put my soup on the end table next to me, then wrapped my arms around both of my knees, hugging them to my chest.

This wasn’t good. “Mafia?”

“Yeah,” he said quietly, but with a clipped edge. “Justin, that’s my brother. He and I weren’t close to either side. That was my choice. I moved to the city to get away from both sides of the family. Some of them are up in Maine, some are spread out around the city. But when Justin came with me, it didn’t end well for him.”

My heart sank for him. “He was murdered?”

“He was murdered,” he confirmed. His face was set in a mask of concrete. “I’m supposed to go up to Maine and take over the family business.”

“You mean join the force up in Maine?” I leaned forward in my seat. “With the other law-abiding family up there?”

His head lifted again. His eyes were stark, and I had my answer.

I fell back into the couch again. “Not the law-abiding side, huh?” That came out in a soft whisper.

“I’m supposed to be their head.”

The head? What did that mean?

My head was swimming.

He kept talking. “The second shooter used to be one of my family’s soldiers. That’s why I grabbed you. Like I explained before, we didn’t have time for me to suss it all out and for me to explain it to you or for you to understand it. He had a silencer, but I didn’t. That neighborhood, they probably aren’t used to the sounds of a gunshot. Someone’s going to look. If we stayed, cops would’ve arrived, and it’d be a whole different ball game from the first shooting. I would’ve been taken in, questioned. You too. We would’ve had a whole bunch of eyes on us, including dirty cops. Anyone who was able to send one of my own family’s soldiers after us would’ve easily got to someone in the force to finish the job. There’s also the fact that two shooters already saw you with me. He got us outside of your cousin’s place. I wasn’t followed. He was waiting for us there.”

He waited, letting me connect the dots.

They already knew about me.

Holy shit.

They’d looked into my cousin, found his address.

“Is my cousin in danger?”

“He’s probably being monitored to see if you show up again. And if you do, I’ve no doubt that you’ll be snatched to try to lure me out.”

He’d been right to kidnap me.

I deflated.

“I put in some calls and confirmed the contract on my head, but your pictures were added. You need to stay away from your family, for their safety, at this point.”

“Even my mom? My aunts?”

“You have to proceed with caution. Don’t contact them.”

Aunt Clara and Bess would not be happy about that. Or my mom. “Um, that might backfire.”

His jaw clenched. “Sawyer.”

I unfolded and leaned forward. He had to hear this. “You don’t understand. My mom and my aunts, they’re not normal.”

He was gripping his bowl so hard.

I shook my head. I had to get through to him. “My mom is old-fashioned. She’s a little like the Montana version of a Stepford wife, but my aunts are not. They’re so the opposite, but the one thing those three have in common is the lengths they’ll go to for me. My aunts didn’t have kids. I am their kid. You’re not getting one mom. You’re getting three. If I don’t contact them, they will come here to look for me. They will raise hell until I’m found. Trust me.”

He was quiet for a moment. “What’d they think of your ex?”

I almost laughed because I hadn’t heard him correctly. “What?”

He was serious.

Oh. I coughed, clearing my throat. “Slight detour there. Uh. About my ex?”

He was waiting, his face all serious.

I shook my head, shrugging a shoulder. “I don’t know. My aunts hated him at first sight. They always hated him, but I’m ride-or-die. Unfortunately.” I bulged my eyes out at him. “Never wanted to do that literally, but here we are. But, uh. Yeah. My aunts stopped saying things when they realized I wasn’t going to leave him. They never asked about marriage. I think they were hoping what happened would happen. My mom . . . I think my mom hoped for me because she thought I loved him.”

“You didn’t?”

Didn’t I?

I loved Beck . . .

Of course I loved him, but being in love with him—I couldn’t think about that. Not now. I shook my head. “Can we not . . . do this?” I motioned between us. “I don’t open up to you anymore. Remember? You kidnapped me.”

But, right. My family.

I began chewing on the inside of my cheek. “Are they in danger? My family? My cousin?”

“They’ll be monitored and watched, and as long as you stay away, they’ll be safe.” He was warning me, his gaze hard on me.

I gritted my teeth.

This whole thing sucked majorly. “I don’t like this.”

His mouth was so tight. “I’m aware.”

I let out a harsh laugh. He didn’t care, as long as his neck was safe. That’s all he cared about. I was stuck in this situation with another selfish prick. Lovely. “Do you know who put the contract out?”

An emotion flickered in his gaze before he cut it off. “Someone in my family.”

Air caught, trapped in my lungs. What kind of family did that to each other?noveldrama

A Mafia family, that’s who. The answer came immediately.

That’s the kind of person I was stuck in this entire fucked-up situation with too. A Mafia ex-cop. I rubbed at my forehead, a pounding headache suddenly showed up. “This is such a twisted joke on me. The universe is really laughing at me.” Sick laughter rippled up from my sternum. Sick and twisted, and bitter.

He was shutting down, closing off to me.

“I wasted almost two decades on a piece of shit boyfriend only to get kidnapped by you. You.” I sneered, that bitter laughter morphing into something sounding unhinged. “A Mafia ex-cop who’s in the middle of an identity crisis. Who are you? Really? Are you a cop or are you Mafia? Maybe you need to pick a fucking lane. Arrest people. Kill people. I don’t care. Just do something.”

His jaw kept getting harder and harder the more I spoke.

I exploded, my fury refusing to be repressed anymore. “Sorry, but I’m kinda for you just killing people if that gets us the best result. I want my life back!”

I hadn’t realized I started to stand as I was beginning to yell, but as I started across the room to him, he shoved up and caught me, his hands clamping down on my hips.

I officially lost my shit when he did that.

Wrong fucking move, dude.