Predator - A Stand Alone Suspense Romance (7 page)

“There is no such thing as normal,” he says icily. “People like us, like you and me,” he waves carelessly between us, “are far from normal. We blend in until we become nothing more than shadows. You have to make people look the other way.” As he takes a breath I realize this is my first lesson from him on how to survive without an identity. He’s going to show me how to become a shadow … like him.

I have to depend on a killer, a cleaner, whatever he wants to call himself. He is standing here because of me, and if I choose to stay with him then he will still be here tomorrow. It’s guaranteed that he will be here. I haven’t had any guarantees except the death sentence hanging over my head for so long, but I’m still not sure about him or his agenda.

“How long will I stay with you?” My voice is thick in my throat. I’ve never stayed with someone, not since my parents.

“Unfortunately, life dealt you a shitty hand,” he begins. One thing about Damian is that he loves eye contact. It’s hard to keep eye contact with him but this time I force my eyes up to his. “You have one of two choices, Cara. You either stay here.” He doesn’t elaborate what that would entail. “I’m busy arranging a new identity for you. The papers will be here in two weeks. If you decide to do this, to stay here,” he adds quickly, “you’re not gonna bail on me one day. You can’t wake up and decide this is not the life you want.” I feel him move, as if even the air rushes to give way before him.

I blink once when he gets close to me, and then I keep dead still. His eyes hold mine as he presses the air away between us until there is almost nothing but our clothes. My heart starts off with heavy beats. He wraps his fingers around the back of my neck, and the air rushes from my parted lips. For the first time fear for this man coils deadly inside of my stomach, waiting to be released.

“It will be a life where you’re alive. I can only promise to keep you alive.” A muscle starts to jump on the side of his jaw, right above his beard. I hear him inhale. I hear a bird call somewhere. I hear ticking of a clock. I hear a lot, but I only see that ticking muscle. It looks like a bomb that’s ready to blow at any second.

I nod and it makes me more aware of his fingers on the back of my neck. I have two choices; one, I stay with him, this killer, and only the Lord knows what will happen. Or two, I take my chances out there and I know they will find me again. I will die this time because he won’t come for me again. This is my only chance at staying alive.

It sucks when your life depends on a total stranger. I drag in a deep breath and my lungs are instantly filled with his manly scent. I take hold of his arm to steady myself. My legs feel weak. When I pull his hand away from my neck, I try to smile, but I don’t think I’m very successful.

“I guess you’re stuck with me then.” I don’t sound very convincing. I sound fucking petrified.

As I walk back to the room, I grasp what happened in the kitchen … that was the closest Damian ever got to me, and it was only to warn me to not fuck with him. I wonder for the first time what happened to turn him into stone.

Damian~

I watch her leave the kitchen and then I finish my bottle of water. I take two frozen meals from the freezer so they can defrost.

When I go upstairs I hear the shower running. That’s a good sign. It’s one less thing I have to tell her to do. As I pass by the bathroom I notice the door’s not closed all the way. She doesn’t close any doors behind her. Must be because they kept her in the container. She’ll have to deal with her shit sometime, but that’s not my problem.

I get the first aid kit and then go wait in her room for her. Soon she’ll be able to do this for herself too.

I stand by the window when I hear the bathroom door creak. I hear her stop by the door and I can feel her eyes on me, but when I turn around they drop to the floor.

“How do you feel?” I ask. I walk to her and look over her bruises. They’re starting to fade. The burn on her cheek might leave a scar, which is a pity.

I watch her cheeks grow pink under my inspection.

“Confused, miserable, frightened, ashamed … pretty much like a coward,” she rambles honestly to my surprise. Her shoulders slump and then she whispers, “Okay.” She clears her throat and then louder, “I’m okay.”

“Good.” I take hold of her elbow, making sure my touch is light. I’ve noticed that she doesn’t like being touched, which suits me just fine. “How’s the pain?” I steer her to the bed and then wait for her to sit.

She hesitates at first and then she lets the word out with a harsh breath, “Better.” She sits down but squirms uncomfortably, and I know it’s because of me. I’ll have to watch the memory cards we got from the house to see what happened to her, so I’ll know how to handle her.

She’s so different from the other women I’ve saved. Usually they cling, and they need comfort, but she’s the total opposite. Maybe she has some fight left in her.

“Remove the sweater.” I keep my voice neutral. It seems to put her at ease if I’m as cold as possible with her.

I open the first aid kit. “From tomorrow I want you to do this yourself until your wounds are healed.”

I watch as she takes hold of the sweater. Her fingers dig into the material and her knuckles go white.

“I,” she clears her throat again and then she hugs herself, “I can manage. You don’t need to do it.”

Her whole body is tense and she’s hunkering into herself, as if she’s trying to make herself a smaller target.

“Okay,” I say and then I leave. When I reach the door I glance back at her. “You’re safe, Cara.” I say it because I know she needs to hear it.

I close the door behind me and then I stare at it. She’s starting to feel. Now the real hard part starts. She’s either going to deal with what happened to her or she’s going to freak out. Only time will tell how strong she is.

The door is yanked open and her eyes widen when she sees that I’m still standing here. “I … I,” she takes a step back and mumbles, “don’t close it.”

Yeah, I was right about the container thing. It’s a good thing that the house is big, because it’s going to be a while before she’s okay with small spaces again … if ever.

Cara~

Another morning comes, and it’s gray and miserable. The wind howls around the house and it makes it feel so big and empty.

Maybe I was just too freaked out those first two weeks to take in anything, but now I’m starting to see, I’m starting to hear and I’m starting to feel way too much. I’m too alive for all the pain inside of me. It gives the pain something to feed on, something to destroy.

The clothes I found in the cupboard are too big for me, but I wear them gratefully. It’s something, right?

I find Damian in the kitchen. He’s either in here or up in his study. It’s the one place in the house I’m not allowed to go. I haven’t been outside yet. I’m not brave enough to take that step.

“I’d give you something to help you sleep, but I don’t want to struggle to wake you up if shit comes banging on the door and we have to run in the middle of the night,” he says, giving me an onceover like he always does.

I stop halfway into the kitchen and turn to him. “Morning to you, too,” I whisper. Can we at least start off with a greeting and coffee before he has to remind me of where I am and why?

Two weeks. I’ve been here for two weeks already, but it feels like it’s only been a day. I’ve fallen into a routine of cleaning and cooking, not that there’s much to clean, and cooking consists of heating up frozen dinners. I’m not complaining at all. Anything is better than Cup O’ Noodles.

I haven’t had a full night of rest since we left the motel. I know it’s because Damian now sleeps in his own room. I realize how safe I felt with him watching over me. I’m too scared to sleep for long periods of time. The nights go by slowly, stretching the darkness in me to breaking point. It’s a constant battle to keep the memories buried.

Damian is patient with me. He doesn’t ask many questions. I have lots, but I don’t dare ask them.

“Morning, Cara.” He smiles for the first time and it robs me of my breath. It makes him look younger. He almost looks normal where he sits smiling at me until I see the black ink snaking up from under his shirt and everything about him comes back into focus. This man is far from normal.

“If you want coffee, you better have some quickly. We leave in ten minutes.” His smile disappears as fast as it came when I don’t smile back at him.

“Where to?” My eyes widen. Leave? Like leave the house? I’m not sure I’m ready to do that.

“Clothes for you and I need to take care of something,” he answers vaguely.

I take a sip of my coffee and then blurt out the question, “Did you just wake up and decide to do this for a living?”

“You like asking questions,” he says. He pins me with a menacing gaze. I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to that look. It sends chills crawling over my body.

“I don’t.” I swallow my fear down. I can’t stay here and not know something about the man I’m living with. “I haven’t asked you a question in a long time. I just want to get to know the person I’m living with. It’s not every day I meet a-” I snap my mouth shut and stare at my coffee.

“A cleaner. I’m referred to as a cleaner. And no, I didn’t just wake up and decide I wanted this life for myself.” He clasps his hands together and leans forward on the table. I’m surprised when he continues. “Someone close to me was taken while I was away on tour. When I came back, it was too late. I killed the person who took her and since then it became my job. Jeff is the only person I trust. He was the old man who stood guard outside the container you were held in.”

Container … Old man
.

Memories I’ve been fighting to keep buried shudder through me like shockwaves. I drop my eyes to the floor and focus on the wood. I start counting the cracks to keep my mind busy. But one thought slips through.
How much does the old man know of what happened in that container, and did he tell Damian
? My cheeks grow hot with shame.

“Shit happens to the best of us, Cara,” Damian says suddenly. “It’s how you deal with it that counts. You've gotta fight for what you want, otherwise this life will chew you the fuck up and spit you right out. You're either a fighter or a nobody, and I sure as hell ain't some nobody. You don’t look like some nobody, either.”

I keep quiet after that. I keep running what he said over in my mind, wondering if I’m a fighter like Damian, or just a plain nobody.

“Cara, we’re leaving,” Damian calls out. I’m hiding in the hallway. I’ve been trying to scrape the courage together to walk out by myself, but yeah, that’s not happening.

“Cara!” he snaps and I have to drag my feet to get moving. I take one step at a time and halfway down the stairs my chest closes up.

As the front door gets closer, I can hear my panicked breaths. They sound distorted and way too loud. I wrap my arms around my waist when I take the final step outside. I feel dizzy and can’t take in anything but my next breath.

“You’re doing good,” he says curtly as he walks towards the car, leaving me behind.

My legs grow a mind of their own and I follow him. When he gets in the car, I walk faster. Damian represents safety for me. Only once I’m in the car do I feel a semblance of calm washing over me.

I stare back at the house. It’s old and shabby looking. Paint is peeling off in places and the yard is scattered with dead leaves. The house suits us perfectly; it’s dull and it looks tired.

Damian stops outside a smallish mall and hands me a phone. When I take hold of it he doesn’t let go and I look up.

“This is important. You speak to no one. You go with no one. Only phone the number that’s on it if anything goes wrong. Do you understand?” he asks.

I nod. He’s letting me go by myself? My eyes flit to the mall and I watch the people move in and out, just minding their own business.

I can do this. I have to do this. I have to do something on my own.

I glance back to Damian and his lips are set in a hard line. “I need to hear the word yes from you, Cara,” he says and his eyes darken to a deep charcoal.

He seems worried about me.
The thought rushes through me, causing havoc and stirring up whirls of unsettling emotions inside of me. I’ve been alone for so long. I’ve forgotten what it feels like to have someone worry over me.

“Yes,” I blow the word out on a hard breath.

“Here’s money. Get decent clothes … stuff you like. I’ll be back in exactly sixty minutes.” His eyes hold mine. “One hour, Cara.”

“Yes,” I say to placate him and to talk some willpower into myself so that I can do this.

He reaches for me and his fingers slip over my collarbone. He squeezes and I realize that’s his version of a hug. I just don’t know why he felt the need to touch me, and I’m too scared to ask.

“Make eye contact with no one and keep your head down,” he says and the muscle starts to jump in his cheek. “Shit, I should’ve left you at home,” he blurts out.

And then it hits me. He’s the one that’s not ready to let me go into public by myself, never mind me not being ready. This is a huge step for the both of us.

Damian Weston knows fear, too. He’s scared he won’t be here to keep his promise to me. The thought makes me feel oddly relieved.

I smile for the first time and lean into him. I hesitate but then push through with the action. His beard is rough against my lips as I press a quick kiss to his cheek. “Go, Damian. I have your number. If something happens, I’ll go to the most public spot and phone you.” I quickly pull back and leave without a backward glance. I don’t know if he is half as shocked as I am feeling right now about what I just did.

As I walk slowly into the mall, my eyes dart to every person in my near vicinity, assessing whether they could be a possible threat to me.

My heart keeps pounding and everything around me seems overly bright and loud.

This is a huge mistake. Shit!

I should leave and phone Damian so he can come back.

“You can do this.” My voice is a desperate whisper.

An elderly woman shuffles by me, way too close for comfort. I flinch to the side and then scurry away from her.

Shit, I should run and hide. I should find a safe place until Damian comes for me. Panicked thoughts whizz through my mind, making me feel detached from everything around me.

“You can do this,” I let the words out on a harsh breath. Shit, so many people, so many sounds. I’m going to die of a panic attack.

I suck in a deep breath and whisper to myself, “I can do this.”

Only after ten minutes of aimlessly walking around, do I start to relax a little, enough to notice the different shops around me. I head into the first one and go for the first display of shirts I see.

They are more for summer but I take them anyway. I just want to get this whole shopping trip over with as quickly as possible.

I mix and match, trying to create some sort of style, seeing as all my stuff was left at the motel in Scappoose when I was taken. I make sure to get comfy underwear, too, and some toiletries.

I keep an eye on the cell, watching the time. And then I see a pretty skirt. I’ve never been one for dresses or skirts, it’s always been jeans. I wander over to the little black and gray number. On impulse I take it. I don’t think about it again. I get a pair of sneakers and boots. A girl has to have at least one pair of boots.

By the time I’m done and back outside, I have ten minutes to spare. There are no missed calls, no text messages.

Damian comes five minutes later. His face is tense and his worry-muscle is jumping overtime. He gets out and helps me place the bags in the trunk. He ushers me to the passenger side and almost shoves me in. I watch him rush around the front of the car and then he drives slowly away as if nothing is wrong. His fingers grip the steering wheel hard, until the tips go red.

“What-” And then I hear the moan – an agonizingly low moan. I turn slowly in my seat and slap both my hands over my mouth to keep from screaming.

We don’t go back home. Damian drives for hours and then he finally pulls over at a shady-looking motel. He doesn’t say anything and I keep quiet, not having the guts to talk first. As soon as we stop, I scramble out of the car and get out of the way.

“Stay with her,” he snaps at me. I watch as he goes to the reception area.

My eyes dart back to the girl. She’s covered in bruises and blood, and I wonder if that’s what I looked like when Damian came for me. But then I see her clothes. She’s only been beaten by the looks of it.

A car pulls into the parking lot and my heart stutters with fear. My eyes are glued to the driver when she gets out. As she walks to the reception area, Damian comes out. It looks like he got a room.

My eyes feel huge in my head when I watch him lift the girl out of the car. I have no spit to swallow.

Shit, I can’t believe he’s doing this with me right here.

He was right, he should’ve left me at home … but he didn’t, and now I see how her blood is staining his charcoal shirt black.

Then I hear him and my heart stutters. “Everything’s gonna be just fine, Sweetheart.” I turn my head sideways as I search my memory but I can’t find that tone or words anywhere. He never spoke so kindly to me. He’s almost cooing at her as if she’s a baby, something precious. “Let’s get you all cleaned up.”

I move because I’m a sucker for punishment. I want to hurt myself, just like I placed myself in Steven’s way so he could hurt me.