Captive Read online

  Others like Doll, on the other hand, took these jobs for an entirely different reason. They couldn’t look after their money. I had a feeling all her money went up her nose or in a game of Vegas poker, and when the life of gambling and drugs emptied her pockets, she got hit up with another job.

  Glancing swiftly around the room once again, I caught Nixon’s cocky grin, Doll’s cheeky smile, the humour in Tyrone and Rowan’s face and…

  My gaze halted for a blink of a moment at a figure I didn’t recognize in the corner.

  I didn’t look at him too long, though I felt his eyes on me when I turned back to the window.

  6.

  Nixon…

  Nixon saw him before Vix, standing at the back of the room instead of sitting at the table. His arms were crossed, his expression clear. He was trying to be a mysterious fuck. Maybe he thought being quiet was going to give him a hard edge. He was surrounded by ruthless criminals and fucker looked like he belonged in a pop band. He had that cute fucking face Nixon knew girls went crazy for. His lips were plump, his eyes blue – the kind of blue someone like Vix would call riveting.

  Personally, Nixon would have defined riveting with a punch to the pretty boy’s face.

  Okay, he knew he wasn’t being sensible, and look, it wouldn’t have bothered Nixon. At all. Truly, if this pretty boy hadn’t been ogling Nixon’s girl with the hungriest eyes he ever did see, Nixon would have completely overlooked the baby face’s presence. But the fucker was slowly signing his death warrant, looking over Vix inch by precious inch.

  Clearly, lines needed to be drawn. Nixon wasn’t a complete cunt. He knew the man-boy probably had no idea she was marked permanently. And, to be fair, Nixon liked when his girl turned heads. She was, after all, the most beautiful creature he ever did see.

  But something about this guy got under Nixon’s skin, and it wasn’t the over the top confidence he radiated out of him as he looked about the room, sizing it up. It was something completely different. Something Nixon couldn’t quite put his finger on just yet.

  As they all waited for Hobbs’ arrival, Nixon turned his attention to Tyrone’s conversation with Rowan. He was talking about his latest investment, though it was probably circling the drain right that very moment, like all the others. Doll inserted a few jabs along those lines, prompting Rowan to bite her head off.

  Returning his focus back to Vixen, Nixon frowned. She was too busy looking out the window, her usual forlorn look accompanying her face. Lately, she as morose and withdrawn. It wasn’t a look Nixon liked to see, but the older Vix got, the harder she was to contain.

  Nixon wanted to defile her right in front of the pretty boy. He wanted to mark her for everyone to see, make a statement the pretty boy wouldn’t forget.

  She was his.

  His.

  Like the sky belonged to the earth, Vix belonged to Nixon.

  Mine. He thought with fierce possessiveness.

  She’s mine.

  7.

  Vixen…

  Hobbs arrived shortly after I’d caught sight of the guy in the corner.

  “I hate this fucking place,” was the first thing he’d said as he stormed in, briefcase in hand. “Nixon, you son of a fucking bitch, I’m tired of catching ferries to this cunt of an island.”

  “Own a boat, boss,” Rowan said. “It’s smooth sailing, pun intended.”

  As Hobbs tossed the briefcase down on the table, he slid out of his suit jacket and glared at Rowan. “I don’t want to own a fucking boat, Rowan. I don’t like boats. I don’t like the fucking water, and I have no fucking interest in crawling across the ocean at a snail’s pace to get to this cunt of a place just to give you little cunts your next fucking job.” Then he redirected his glare to Nixon and said, “Why the fuck are you sitting on the edge of the fucking table, Nixon? And Doll, unless you’re going to give us a pussy show, put your fucking legs down.”

  Doll dropped her legs and sat up, but Nixon didn’t budge. He remained seated on the corner of the table, flicking his thumb in the direction of the corner. “You forgot to scold pretty boy over there.”

  Hobbs turned to look at the guy in the corner. He rolled his eyes. “Are you trying to be a mysterious fuck, Flynn? Get the fuck outta there.”

  As the guy left the corner, Doll pointed at me. “What about her, Hobbs?”

  Hobbs let out a dramatic sigh. “Leave her alone. I like where she’s standing just fine. The room is elevated by her presence.”

  Doll tossed a dirty look my way, and Nixon smirked.

  The guy Hobbs called Flynn took a seat on the chair next to Doll. I couldn’t help but notice the wary look Nixon tossed him.

  “Who the fuck is this kid, Hobbs?” Tyrone demanded, also looking suspicious.

  “This is Flynn,” Hobbs replied, straight-faced. “Thought I made it clear when I said his fucking name.”

  Flynn grabbed one of those hotel pens on the table and twisted it around, glimpsing once up at me. I averted my gaze quickly, feeling my pulse jump.

  “Okay, well, what is his role in all this?” Rowan enquired, leaning back in his chair.

  “Yeah, never seen him before,” Tiger chirped.

  “He’s too pretty,” Doll muttered, like it was an insult.

  “He’s your getaway driver,” Hobbs inserted, gritting his teeth. “I would have told you that if you all would just shut the fuck up and let me talk.”

  “Why do we need a getaway driver?” Nixon asked, a note of disapproval in his tone. “We do things on the quiet. By the time the alarm’s raised, we’re long gone.”

  “Good point,” Rowan agreed.

  Doll’s brows shot up. “I guess it’s going to get nasty, gentlemen.”

  “I think Hobbs is going to tell us,” Tyrone said. “I think we keep interrupting him.”

  Exhausted, Hobbs ran a hand down his face. “Do I need to put you bitches in detention just so you’d shut the fuck up and let me talk?”

  It was funny hearing Hobbs swear. He looked like a fifth-grade schoolteacher with his thick glasses and clean-shaven face. He dressed like someone from the old railroad days, his suit old-fashioned and proper, and the pocket watch chain hanging along the pocket of his vest was the perfect added touch.

  “Sorry, Hobbs,” Tiger apologized. “I guess we just have a lot to say.”

  Hobbs tensed his jaw. “Alright, you turtle looking bald fuck, does anyone else have something to say? Get it out of the fucking open now before I end up shooting somebody.”

  “I have something to say.” That came unexpectedly from the guy Flynn. He was staring at Hobbs. “I’ve been walking around the hotel for the last couple hours and I noticed there are cameras everywhere. I’ve never seen a hotel under this much amount of surveillance. What’s going on?”

  The room was silent for several moments. I noticed a few glances at Nixon and then me.

  They know.

  “The place is secure,” Nixon suddenly said. “The surveillance is under my control. It makes talks like these safe to have.”

  “Do you own the hotel?” Flynn asked.

  “Something like that.”

  “It’s a popular retreat. Can you be certain we’re safe to have this conversation?”

  Nixon glared at him. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think I was under some kind of fucking interrogation right now. If I wanted to be hounded by the likes of you, I’d have crashed a frat party. Hobbs, you never told me you were into recruiting nosy fuckheads.”

  Flynn crossed his arms, looking right back at Nixon unperturbed. “We’ve never met. I’m trying to figure things out right now.”

  “That’s Nixon,” Hobbs said, like that was all that was needed to explain him.

  “Like the president?” Flynn questioned.

  “No,” Nixon retorted. “Not like the fucking president.”

  “Nixon has this island covered,” Hobbs cut in. “He’s got men at every corner under his control. If you farted in the forest, he’d know about it. Talks lik
e these are safe to have.”

  Flynn nodded. “Okay.”

  “Okay?” Hobbs repeated. “Have I served my fucking purpose? Anyone else got something to say?”

  Nobody said a thing.

  “Hallelujah, praise Jesus.” Hobbs made the sign of the cross before unlocking the briefcase, uttering curses under his breath.

  A second later, the briefcase slammed open and he said, “This is what’s happened.” He began producing photos and tossing them around the table. “A Hungarian crew ripped off the Irish Gypsies at their central caravan park a few months back in Ireland. They made a run for it, disappearing out of the blue.”

  “How did they disappear out of the blue?” Doll immediately asked, confused. “Those guys have some serious surveillance.”

  “I don’t fucking know,” Hobbs retorted, already looking impatient. “I didn’t read their minds, Doll.”

  “But those guys never get ripped off.”

  “You don’t say.” His voice dripped with sarcasm. “Maybe they were hiding under a Harry Potter cloak, who the fuck cares? Point is, the gypsies got blind-sided. Had all their lollies in one nest –”

  “It’s kind of funny,” Tiger chuckled. “Cuz they’re always ripping people off.”

  “Yeah, ha-ha,” Hobbs deadpanned. “Anyways, the trail went cold and –”

  “If they disappeared out of nowhere, there’d be no trail to go cold,” Rowan interrupted, shrugging like it was simply not possible.

  Hobbs went stiff, glaring daggers around the room. I saw his nostrils flare. “If you bitches don’t shut the fuck up, I will give this job to Eman and his crew.”

  That totally shut everyone up.

  I met Eman, knew him well. He was this solid Turkish dude – seriously hot, but seriously scary. The crew never liked working with him, said he was too impulsive and always picking a fight. They’d almost blown a couple jobs because of his temper tantrums, and when shit got too tense, Nixon flat out refused to take another job with him, and that created a rift between them. Turned out, Eman was sensitive, and his feelings were hurt. The last time he was here, he blew up at Nixon and smashed one of the table chairs and stomped out, threatening he’d have his own crew and fuck Nixon and Doll and Rowan and everyone else that had been there.

  But he had popped his back in to say, “Except you, Vixen. I have no beef with you.”

  Hobbs had later informed us that he did indeed put together his own crew of people, and when the stars didn’t align for Nixon or the others to take a job together, he’d hand the job over to Eman.

  It was all kind of juvenile, but that was the criminal world for you. It wasn’t as complicated as the law enforcement and news made them out to be.

  “Moving along,” Hobbs continued, pointing at the photos spread out before them all, “word on the street is the Hungarians were spotted in Seattle, blowing a shit ton of money. They’re shacked up in one of Toby’s safehouses.”

  Toby was another guy I’d heard about but never met. For a lot of money, he provided a safe place for criminals to hide out in when they were under too much heat.

  He also dealt drugs. A lot of it. The King of Coke, they’d called him.

  “How’d you get these pictures?” Flynn wondered, picking up photos of what I assumed were the men.

  Hobbs smiled, looking proud now. “Toby is a close acquaintance. We are on good terms with the creepy fuck, thanks to Nixon.”

  Flynn glanced at Nixon, and a strange expression crossed his features. “What’d you do?”

  Nixon, still sitting on the edge of the table, flicked a glance in my direction. “What I always do,” he answered, saying nothing more.

  Flynn followed Nixon’s line of sight to me and seemed curious. “Toby’s a huge asset to have. That’s…impressive.”

  Hobbs nodded, careful not to stare at me. “It is.”

  Nobody wanted to address what Nixon did to gain Toby’s approval. Flynn was going to be left in the dark, but he caught the glances in my direction and his curiosity deepened.

  I didn’t want to think about Toby or what Nixon did. I kept my expression neutral, even though I was distinctly aware of what happened.

  “Toby’s dropped this golden nugget on us, gifted us with a straightforward job,” Hobbs went on, “and he gets a cut, of course, but not as big.”

  “What about the gypsies? Won’t they want their money back?” Doll questioned.

  “Fuck the gypsies,” Hobbs retorted. “Finders keepers, they should’ve been more diligent with their dough. Now, Toby’s aware these men are armed, and this job will be dangerous. Infiltrating the safe house will require monitoring first. You may be away for a couple weeks. This is not something that can be done impulsively. If this isn’t for you, you are free to leave right the fuck now.”

  He paused and looked about the room, waiting for someone to bow out. But everyone sat still, staring back at Hobbs without a single concern.

  They were in.

  “Good,” he said, looking excited. “This is how we’re going to do it.”

  I tuned out.

  I knew better than to listen to the next notch on their belt of crime sprees.

  I’d probably hear about it in the news, anyway.

  8.

  Tyrone…

  Shit was going to end badly if this fucking kid didn’t stop staring at Vixen.

  Nixon had received a call that had him leaving the room. The meeting was over, and everyone was chatting in separate groups.

  Vixen was still alone, standing by the window, nursing her champagne. She looked like a picture of misery.

  And this Flynn fuck wouldn’t stop watching her. No one liked the kid. They’d left him to his devices, and he hadn’t minded being cut off from the group.

  He was tapping the pen on the table, a bored expression on his face, but Tyrone saw the kid’s razor-sharp focus on the girl.

  Tyrone knew this kid needed to be warded off.

  He took a seat next to him, inching the chair a little too close for the kid’s comfort. Flynn glanced at him from the corner of his eye but didn’t stop tapping the pen.

  Tyrone upped his intimidation. He rested his elbows on the table and leaned in, using his head to block Flynn’s view of the girl. Now when Flynn looked up, his eyes met his. The kid kept his expression neutral.

  “She’s off-limits,” Tyrone said in a hard tone. “You’d better look elsewhere right now. You know who she came here with. You heard what Doll said during that little shitstorm at the start.”

  Staring at the pen, Flynn shrugged. “I wasn’t paying attention.”

  “You weren’t paying…?” Tyrone frowned. Was this kid for real? “That’s Nixon’s property, kid.”

  “Property?” Flynn repeated, narrowing his eyes at him. “I wasn’t aware that was still a thing.”

  “Nixon’s old fashioned,” he retorted, dryly. “Stop staring at the girl is all I’m saying. We got handed a job to do at the end of this week. Let’s not start it with a cloud over our heads. The last thing we need is for Nixon to beat the shit out of you. We can’t have you slumped at the wheel, am I right?”

  Flynn didn’t respond. The way the kid stared back at Tyrone unsettled him. He wasn’t intimidated in the slightest. Fucker had zero fear.

  This was worrying.

  Tyrone had that whole premonition vibe shit down pat.

  Honestly, he would have been a fortune teller in another life. He felt the atmosphere around this guy. The energy was all fucking wrong.

  This kid was going to play with fire, and he was going to die for it. Straight up, Nixon was going to kill him and not even blink doing it.

  Nixon had a reputation for a reason. He was ruthless, and before Vixen had come along, Tyrone had been certain the guy was a sociopath.

  But he had gentled when he stole Vixen from her life, and what a line that was, he had to repeat it to himself. When Nixon stole her, he gentled. Tyrone would have laughed if he’d been alone to think it.
<
br />   But he wasn’t alone.

  He was next to this fucking idiot who had no idea that Nixon would happily pluck his eyeballs from his sockets if he saw the dirty way Flynn was staring at his girl.

  What was up with this kid?

  Why was he being so brazen?

  It didn’t make sense.

  “You don’t know Nixon,” Tyrone added, this time softly. “He would go to the ends of the earth for that girl. Please, kid, no trouble.”

  But when Tyrone leaned back, Flynn’s eyes cut straight back to the girl.

  Shit.

  Shit.

  Shit.

  Tyrone watched in horror as Flynn stood up and made his way over to her.

  This.

  Was.

  Going.

  To.

  End.

  Badly.

  9.

  Vixen…

  “We know more about space and planets than we do about the ocean.”

  I blinked out of my daydream and turned to the voice behind me. My heart skipped a beat when my gaze met blue eyes. Flynn came to my side, staring out, his eyes scanning the horizon.

  Dark clouds had rolled in, blocking out the sun. Light rain streaked the window; I imagined it would feel cool on my skin. I hadn’t felt rain in so long. Hadn’t stepped out in close to a year – not since Nixon had taken me to a nearby restaurant the first year I’d been here.

  And that night ended badly.

  I’d made a run for it, and Nixon had chased me down in the parking lot. My pussy still ached when I remembered the savage way he fucked me later that night.

  It was the best fuck of my life.

  I looked Flynn over quickly. He was wearing faded jeans and a black and white stripe sleeve sports jacket. His blond hair was cropped short, his face was clean shaven. He didn’t look like he belonged amongst criminals, which I supposed was the perfect cover.