Predator - A Stand Alone Suspense Romance (6 page)

“So much for no one noticing us,” I hear him sigh.

I’m too drained to be embarrassed and his don’t-give-a-fuck attitude really makes it easier not to care what he thinks of my puking on the side of the highway.

He presses a bottle to my lips. “Water.” A whisper, not meant to be kind. I rinse my mouth a couple of times but the burn of the bile remains in the back of my throat. I keep the rest of the water as I get back in the car. When he closes the door, I lean my forehead against the cold window.

He takes hold of my chin and turns my head until I’m looking at him. Murderous eyes bore into mine. “You asked and I don’t lie. I kill but I don’t lie, Cara. Careful what you ask me because you will always get the truth.”

I nod in his hand to show I understand. I don’t know if I’m scared shitless of him, or if I feel safer knowing what he does. All I know is I’m tired, and I feel old, so very old.

When he finally stops in front of a house, I can’t see much of it in the dark. I can make out that it’s big and old, but that’s it.

I follow Damian to the front door, but I make sure to keep a safe distance. He unlocks the door and then he disappears inside. I see a light go on somewhere inside and then I take a step closer. I peek inside and can only see a glimpse of what looks like a living room, a set of stairs going up and a small passage to the right.

I glance over my shoulder and peer into the darkness.

Can I trust this man not to hurt me? Should I rather make a run for it?

For a moment the urge to run is overwhelming, and I panic. I turn away from the front door and move as quick as I can. I race down the porch steps and almost miss the last one.

That’s about as far I make it. The quick movements and panic depletes my energy like starving leeches. I grab hold of the railing and take a few deep breaths, and then a hopeless sound escapes over my lips. I have no choice but to stay. I’m in too much pain to be on the run.

I glance back at the open door and I’m shocked when I see Damian leaning against the wall right at the foot of the stairs. His eyes are on me, as if he’s patiently waiting for me to decide whether I’m staying or running.

My shoulders slump wearily and I take the stairs slowly back up to the porch. I suck in another deep breath and then step into the house where I’ll either be able to lick my wounds, or where I’ll be killed.

My heart starts to race at the thought and I keep my face down. I’m so fucking tired. My chin starts to tremble with tears as the hopeless feeling suffocates me.

“Let me show you around and then you can go sleep,” Damian whispers.

The living room is large. The kitchen looks normal, and then we head upstairs. He’s patient as I take one stair at a time. Sweat beads on my forehead and my body starts to tremble from all the effort it’s taking to just stay on my feet. When I reach the top of the stairs my head starts to spin and I feel nauseous. I want to sleep and never wake up.

There are three bedrooms. Two have beds in them, nothing else. I don’t get to see the third room so I guess it’s his. There are also stairs leading up to an attic. He grumbles something about staying out of the attic.

There’s a full bathroom upstairs and a toilet downstairs. We share the bathroom. The house has an old and empty feel about it, but I couldn’t care less.

I use the last of my energy to walk to the bed and I sit down heavily. I could cry with relief.

“Cara.” I look at the faded blue bedspread. It reminds me of water. “Cara!” Damian says louder. I flinch at the volume of his voice and look up at him.

“Sorry,” I try to smile, but my lips feel weird.

He looks at the bed and then at me. “There are other covers in the closet down the hall. Change it if you don’t like these. There are some clothes in that cupboard,” he points to the one taking up most of the wall right behind me, “they might be a bit big. You lost weight. We’ll fix that.” He turns around but stops. “I have a question.” He waits, as if he’s waiting for my permission.

“Yeah?” I fold my hands together on my lap and interlace my fingers tightly.

I wish he’d leave so I can sleep. I swallow hard on the desperate tears that are making my throat ache.

“You’ve been hiding for seven years.” It’s not a question. I don’t understand where he’s going with this. “So, I’m a bit confused.” He frowns. “I’m confused about a lot of the things you did to get yourself into this mess.” I’m still waiting for the question with a heart that’s picking up speed real fast. “They found you in the middle of nowhere.” My breath hitches and I hear the accusation. I hear the same accusation from him that’s been taunting me in my own conscience. “Either you forgot that there were people after you and you got too comfortable, or you practically handed yourself over. Which is it?” There’s the question. Something bubbles up inside of me ... something horrible and desperate.

“You bastard!” I hiss at him and the tears I’ve been fighting threaten to spill over my flaming cheeks. “You know …” My voice disappears as anger chokes me but I squeeze the word out, “nothing.”

He lifts an eyebrow and it makes him look even more menacing. “I know every detail about you. I know every … single … thing,” he bites out the words.

I shake my head as an overwhelming feeling of humiliation threatens to suffocate me.

What the hell have I gotten myself into? I can’t stay here. But … shit, it’s either the death sentence hanging over my head – or this man’s mercy. I don’t know which is worse right now.

“I didn’t …” I gasp and grind my teeth together as the tears press harder against the back of my eyelids. “I didn’t know,” I force the words out.

A smile tugs at his lips and I almost choke on the anger that’s burning a hole in my chest. I’m disappointed in myself. I let him get to me.

“I didn’t know
… what?
” he repeats my words and tears of hot anger scorch down my cheeks, finally breaking through my barriers.

“I didn’t know who was after me!” I scream at him.

“I didn’t know you could get angry but it’s good to know,” he says and I want to scream. I want to grab something and throw it at him. I want to hit him until he hurts the way I’m hurting. But I just stare as he leaves in his quiet manner. He leaves me with my anger and I realize that was the point of it all – he wants me to feel something … anything. If only he knew that with feeling comes unspeakable pain.

I fall back onto the bed and I let the tears flow. I don’t move as the sun glides through the room. I just let the anger ebb away until all that remains is the empty shell.

I hear the key rattle in the door and my insides turn to stone. I try to switch off. It’s hard to see, there’s no blinding light and I’m thankful for it. It only makes everything more real, and my swollen eyes water and burn.

I hear movement and I stiffen painfully. I press harder into the cold floor. I can’t take another beating. I can’t handle being raped again. I have nothing left to fight with.

“Oh, Cara,” I hear Steven whisper resentfully and I squeeze myself harder against the floor. “Why do you have to be so damn fuckable?”

I place a hand over my mouth to keep from breathing too loudly. I will my heartbeat to slow down, to not pound until he can hear it too.

“Just remember,” he whispers darkly and then I hear him move closer, “this is all your fault.”

My heart stops. My world stops.

He’s suddenly on top of me and I start to fight with strength I didn’t know I had.

I claw at him until I have his skin under my nails. When he tries to kiss me, I bite until I taste his blood.

His hands are all over my torso and when he squeezes my breasts painfully, I can’t think as the fear I thought I’ve gotten to know so well thickens, blackens and oozes into me, until I stop trembling.

As his hands move lower, I start to heave and bile pushes up my throat. He rolls me over as I start to vomit. I feel him press into my back and as he moves the filthy panties to the side, I start to choke. He rams into me and at the same time he grabs a fistful of hair and he presses my face into the vomit. I keep choking and start to fight for air until the familiar darkness sucks me under.

I shoot up and roll away. I fall to the hard floor in the dark room and then kick at the tangled sheets around my legs. My breaths are ragged, short bursts of terror. The door slams open and light spills into the room.

Damian just looks at me. Our eyes meet for an intense moment before he says, “I made coffee. You might want to come and have some.” It’s not a question. I nod and get up off the floor. My body aches from the fall, but I do my best to not let the pain show on my face. I don’t look back at the bed and brush by him as I hurry out of the room.

I almost turn into the living room when Damian takes hold of my elbow.

“Kitchen’s this way,” he says and tugs lightly for me to change direction. He lets go immediately. He never touches me unless he really has to and I’m so thankful for that. He’s the coldest person on the face of the planet, but for some reason it feels comforting.

The kitchen light is bright and it brings me to a dead stop. My heart skips a beat before it continues pounding heavily. I take a few deep breaths as Damian walks by me.

It feels as if the walls are closing in on me.

Damian gives me a dark look before pouring coffee into a green mug. I watch him add one sugar and milk. I watch his wrist work as he stirs and then he leaves the green mug on the counter.

My eyes follow him across the kitchen as he puts the milk back in the fridge. He takes a bottle of water and as he unscrews the cap, he leans against the counter. Casually, his body exudes comfort with his legs stretched out in front of him. I watch his throat work the water down until I see the black ink.

“Your coffee’s getting cold, Cara,” he says, yanking me out of my fear-induced stupor.

“You’re not having any?” I ask, my voice sounding raspy. I clear my throat and with a trembling hand I brush some hair from my face.

He takes another sip of water and it doesn’t look like he’s going to answer me. Slowly, I walk over to the cup while keeping one eye on him. I pick up the mug and savor the warmth seeping into my fingers.

“I don’t drink coffee.” It’s the first normal thing I learn about him. He drinks water, no coffee.

“Thank you for the coffee,” I swallow the lump down with a hot sip of coffee. “How did you find out about me?” I ask while staring at the caramel liquid in my hands.

“Your uncle,” he says. “He gave me your basics. That you still have a lot to learn at twenty-five, I learned from how easily they found you.” My eyes snap up and anger starts to coil in my gut.

“Let me get this straight.” He caps the bottle of water and places it on the counter. “Tom organizes a whole new identity for you, a shitty one may I add, and you manage to hide for seven years … and then you just let them take you.”

I don’t think it’s a question. It doesn’t sound like one so I just stare at his chest. I try to breathe and exhale at the same time he does, but I need more air and my breathing speeds up.

“You survive an attack in which your parents are killed,” his voice drops with warning and the hair on my body rises, “and yet you still put yourself out there for them to get you?”

I put the cup down before I drop it and keep my body turned sideways, away from him. My anger at him fizzles away because he’s right. “I got careless,” I whisper wretchedly. “I forgot for one stupid moment that I wasn’t allowed to have a normal life.”