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Book: His Captive, The Unabridged Collection: Billionaire Dark Romance by Meg Watson
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Authors: Meg Watson
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point where everything could have been reversed: the eaves painted, the flower boxes perennially filled, the gates repaired. But then everything turned, and it could never be retrieved.
The throbbing at my head was only getting worse. I leaned against one of the short handrails, grasping it tightly as the world spun around me. I reminded myself for the hundredth time that yes, taking the pill was a mistake, and that I would stand up for myself a little more next time. Either Rachel didn't get it or didn't care. Either way, that wasn't happening again.
The low rumble of an engine stirred my from my swooning stupor, and I stood as straight as I could to begin the walk anew. I slowed when I realized that the car wasn't passing by—it was following me. My walking wasn't putting any distance between me and the sound, and I could hear the engine tick up here and there. I chanced a look over my shoulder, and saw a black SUV with blacked out windows.
My heart skipped a beat. I found myself surprised at my reaction—I wanted it to be Rafe. I wanted him to come and take me into the big black SUV, drive me around, touch me, command me... anything . I turned and began walking to the driver's side window, a small smile on my face. It immediately fled when the window rolled down to reveal Bronson.
He didn't seem too happy with me, but he wasn't exactly angry either. “Hey, Rachel. What's goin' on, huh?”
Oh, god. He still thinks I'm Rachel.
I put on my best vaguely friendly tone and expression, but my worry must have shown through. “Hey, there. Bronson, right? What're you doing around here?”
“Just followin' up on a little lead is all. I need to talk to you.”
He opened the door, dropping out quickly into a half-crouch like a wrestler. I found myself backing up instinctively as he walked toward me, ready to bolt through one gangways toward an alley or to start banging on doors.
“The fuck are you running for? Stop, stop.” He seemed earnestly confused by my retreat. “Did I say something fucked up last night? I mean, I was on all kinds of shit, it's not like I remember. I probably didn't mean it, whatever it was. Come on, talk to me for a second.”
He gave a quick beckon with his hand and I squinted against the gusty winds. What harm could there be in talking to him? We were in broad daylight. Admittedly, it wasn't a great neighborhood, but he'd have to be insane to try something out here. Even as I took a few tentative steps toward him, I chastised myself for acting like a scared puppy. He was just a guy. Maybe he wanted to talk about the real Rachel or something, ask for her number, something like that.
“Yeah, fine. All right, just... what is it you want, exactly? It's kinda weird to meet you out here, we're not exactly close to the bar or anything. Do you know Rafe? Did he tell you where I stayed or something?”
He shook his head firmly. His auburn hair was so tightly coiled to his head that it remained utterly perfect.
“Nah. Like I said, just followin’ up on a little lead. I was kinda scoping out this block. And ah... y'know. When I saw you, I figured I had to ask. Is this where you're gettin’ the stuff?”
I could feel my brow coming down instinctively, defensively.
“Um...”
He crossed his arms tightly, muscles straining against the sleeves of his deep red jacket. Under knitted brows, I could see his coppery eyes were hooded and dark and realized he had the same hangover I did, if not a few times worse. I didn’t envy him.
“Don't be coy with me, I just want to get some for myself, fuck,” he drawled, rolling his eyes and sneering over one corner of his fence picket teeth. “Is this where you get the stuff or not?”
I hesitated for a long moment, looking back at the ramshackle buildings behind me. Remembering Rachel’s coaching I stood up straight, trying to affect a confident pose.
“Yeah,” I finally admitted. “You can get pretty much whatever in a pl—”
I felt him creeping
The throbbing at my head was only getting worse. I leaned against one of the short handrails, grasping it tightly as the world spun around me. I reminded myself for the hundredth time that yes, taking the pill was a mistake, and that I would stand up for myself a little more next time. Either Rachel didn't get it or didn't care. Either way, that wasn't happening again.
The low rumble of an engine stirred my from my swooning stupor, and I stood as straight as I could to begin the walk anew. I slowed when I realized that the car wasn't passing by—it was following me. My walking wasn't putting any distance between me and the sound, and I could hear the engine tick up here and there. I chanced a look over my shoulder, and saw a black SUV with blacked out windows.
My heart skipped a beat. I found myself surprised at my reaction—I wanted it to be Rafe. I wanted him to come and take me into the big black SUV, drive me around, touch me, command me... anything . I turned and began walking to the driver's side window, a small smile on my face. It immediately fled when the window rolled down to reveal Bronson.
He didn't seem too happy with me, but he wasn't exactly angry either. “Hey, Rachel. What's goin' on, huh?”
Oh, god. He still thinks I'm Rachel.
I put on my best vaguely friendly tone and expression, but my worry must have shown through. “Hey, there. Bronson, right? What're you doing around here?”
“Just followin' up on a little lead is all. I need to talk to you.”
He opened the door, dropping out quickly into a half-crouch like a wrestler. I found myself backing up instinctively as he walked toward me, ready to bolt through one gangways toward an alley or to start banging on doors.
“The fuck are you running for? Stop, stop.” He seemed earnestly confused by my retreat. “Did I say something fucked up last night? I mean, I was on all kinds of shit, it's not like I remember. I probably didn't mean it, whatever it was. Come on, talk to me for a second.”
He gave a quick beckon with his hand and I squinted against the gusty winds. What harm could there be in talking to him? We were in broad daylight. Admittedly, it wasn't a great neighborhood, but he'd have to be insane to try something out here. Even as I took a few tentative steps toward him, I chastised myself for acting like a scared puppy. He was just a guy. Maybe he wanted to talk about the real Rachel or something, ask for her number, something like that.
“Yeah, fine. All right, just... what is it you want, exactly? It's kinda weird to meet you out here, we're not exactly close to the bar or anything. Do you know Rafe? Did he tell you where I stayed or something?”
He shook his head firmly. His auburn hair was so tightly coiled to his head that it remained utterly perfect.
“Nah. Like I said, just followin’ up on a little lead. I was kinda scoping out this block. And ah... y'know. When I saw you, I figured I had to ask. Is this where you're gettin’ the stuff?”
I could feel my brow coming down instinctively, defensively.
“Um...”
He crossed his arms tightly, muscles straining against the sleeves of his deep red jacket. Under knitted brows, I could see his coppery eyes were hooded and dark and realized he had the same hangover I did, if not a few times worse. I didn’t envy him.
“Don't be coy with me, I just want to get some for myself, fuck,” he drawled, rolling his eyes and sneering over one corner of his fence picket teeth. “Is this where you get the stuff or not?”
I hesitated for a long moment, looking back at the ramshackle buildings behind me. Remembering Rachel’s coaching I stood up straight, trying to affect a confident pose.
“Yeah,” I finally admitted. “You can get pretty much whatever in a pl—”
I felt him creeping
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