Lily
Cason’s expression hardens when I say I thought Doc would be nice to me. I guess I deserve that. It was stupid to believe he’d help me escape and expect nothing in return. I just didn’t realize rape would be the payment he demanded.
The car falls silent, so I keep talking, hoping Cason’s mood will soften soon. “Thank you for saving me. I know I made it necessary for you to do it, but thank you anyway.”
In the moonlight, I watch him shift his gaze to give me the side-eye, but he says nothing in response. He probably wants to tell me how my stupidity nearly got me killed, and not by him, by the way. I’d deserve anything he says since I made the mistake of running away in the first place.
“Cason, are you going to be in trouble because of what happened to Doc?” I ask just as a shiver races down my back at the memory of the terrifying sound of his gun and bullet sending Doc to the floor.
“No. He took something that was mine. I had every right to do what I did to him for that.”
“Your boss isn’t going to be mad at you?”
That makes him look over at me, but in the darkness, I can’t see his expression now. I know how foolish my questions can sound, and that one did seem particularly ignorant of what Cason’s world is. The problem is that I don’t know much about what it’s like or what kind of relationship he and his boss have. He did let him use his house this week to hold me, so maybe he likes him enough to understand why he had to kill Doc.
Not that I truly understand, though.
“Am I that thing he took?” I quietly ask, unsure if that’s what he meant when he said Doc took something of his since I’m a someone, not a something.
“Yes,” he answers flatly, a clear sign he doesn’t want to talk about that anymore.
But the way he said it earlier—he took something that was mine—makes me wonder even more about what he meant. Am I his? Why does he consider me that?
“Cason, can I ask you a question?”
Suddenly, he lurches the steering wheel to the right, sending us careening off the road to the shoulder, and slams on the brakes. Jamming the car into park, he turns in his seat to face me, and I sit there frozen in fear that I’ve pushed him too far.
“Did you just ask me if you could ask me a question?” he says in utter disbelief.
“Yes,” I answer in a voice barely above a whisper.
I don’t know what to expect as we sit there in the dark, silence surrounding us and the seconds ticking by while he says nothing more. Will he reach out and grab me by the throat to take out his anger at what I’ve done? Will he hit me for causing such a problem for him? Will he lean over me and open the car door to push me out because he can’t deal with the hassle of having me as his hostage not another minute longer?
His breath sounds heavy in the darkness, and when he moves closer to me, I feel the warmth of it brush across the top of my head. My muscles in my neck tighten as I await whatever he plans to do. Tears well in my eyes, but I’m thankful he can’t see them because I don’t want to be even more difficult to deal with, in case he isn’t planning to do something terrible.
Then just as I’m sure he’s about to yell at me for all that’s happened, I feel his lips press against my forehead. The breath I’ve been holding in since I answered his question comes out in a shudder of pure relief.
“You’re mine to decide what to do with, Lily.”
I can’t see him in the pitch blackness, but his voice sounds different, gentler than usual. He sounds kind, like he did when he promised he wouldn’t kill me as we lay in each other’s arms just hours ago.
Lowering my head, I press my cheek against the spot at the base of his throat and let the tears come that had been threatening this whole time. “I just wanted to get to my father and take him away before one of us gets hurt because of what he’s done. I’m sorry I made the mistake of going with Doc.”
Cason’s arms slide around my shoulders, and then as he holds me to him, he whispers, “Did he do anything to you?”
I know what he’s asking. Did he hurt me? Did he rape me?
Shaking my head, I reply against his skin that smells like it did when my head was on his chest in bed before I ran away. “No. He almost did, but then you showed up and stopped him.”
His body expands when he takes a deep breath in. Letting it out slowly, he quietly says, “Good.”
“I’m sorry. I should have believed you when you said you wouldn’t kill me. I’m sorry I didn’t.”
And then in the time it takes for my heart to beat just once, he changes back to that man he usually is.
“I gave you my word, Lily. Believe it or not,” he says icily as he pushes me off him and turns back in his seat to face the road.
I want to believe him. More than he can possibly ever imagine I want to believe he won’t kill me if my father makes the mistake of not paying his boss back. He likely doesn’t understand how much believing him would make me happy. He’s got all the power and the gun. All I have is the body I agreed to use in a deal between the devil and myself.
And after all that I’ve done, I don’t know if I’ve ruined everything now.
But maybe if he thinks I do believe him, he’ll want to live up to his promise.
“I do believe you. I do.”
As he shifts the car into drive, he sighs. “Then no more stupid stunts from you. I agree to not kill you, and you agree not to run away and nearly get yourself hurt. Or worse.”
Nodding, even though he can’t see me agreeing to his deal, I notice he doesn’t use the word for what Doc planned to do. Is the reason because he thinks of me as his that way? Why does he care if another man fucks me? I’m just his prisoner, although we have slept together, too.
If he was any other man, I’d ask him these questions. Maybe if I hadn’t made the mistake of running away and having to be rescued from that asshole, I’d ask those questions.
But he’s Cason, a man who I worry might lose his mind on the next one I ask, and I did make the mistake with Doc, so I don’t ask what I so desperately want to know.
Closing my eyes, I let those thoughts dance around in my brain as I drift off to sleep and give Cason the peace and quiet he so desperately wants. Maybe when I wake up I can ask him then.
The car jerks to a stop, and my eyelids fly open in surprise. In front of the car I see motel doors. I turn my head to the right and look out the window to see a neon red sign that says REST INN.
Cason shuts the car off and looks over at me. “Don’t do anything stupid when we go inside and talk to the clerk. Understand?”
“Okay.”
He hasn’t threatened to tie me up since he took me out of that cabin, so I have no intention of making him want to do that again now. I watch him walk around the car to my side and open the door. It’s an oddly kind gesture that I don’t know how to interpret.
As I get out and he slams the door behind me, I ask, “Are you doing that to make it look like we’re a couple for anyone who’s seeing us here? Are we pretending to be a happy couple or are you a man cheating on his wife with me and we’re supposed to look like we’re sneaking around?”
Cason narrows his eyes and stares down at me like he doesn’t know what to say. “How do you come up with these ideas? Who thinks that way?”
“Me.”
“Since I don’t know how to look like I’m sneaking around on someone, just go with the quiet but happy couple that doesn’t talk much to the desk clerk. Can you do that?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Now let’s go.”
When he takes my hand in his, I look down, surprised he wants to take the charade that far. “So you’re really into this happy couple thing?”
“You know what would make me really happy?” he asks as we walk toward the front office.
I smile for the first time since I stood outside the house and took my first breath of fresh air as a free woman. “Me pretending to be your mute wife?”
And for the first time since he found me in that cabin, he smiles too. “That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said. Mute wife. Perfect. Now let me do all the talking.”
We walk into where the desk clerk sits behind a wood counter cracking his gum and watching something on his phone. He appears to be about my age or maybe a year or two older, and when he looks up at us standing there, his face shows how annoyed he is at being interrupted.
“What’s up?” he asks in a far squeakier voice than I’ve ever heard on a man, even a young one.
Cason sets his black leather wallet on the countertop. “We want a room for the night.”
I watch as the kid types in the information he’s given into a desktop computer that’s nearly a gold color it’s so old. Standing at Cason’s side, I say nothing and avoid looking the clerk in the eye. The thought of trying to get him to help me crosses my mind, but I discount that idea immediately and remind myself that Cason promised he wouldn’t hurt me.
Plus, I doubt this guy would help anyway, and the last person I thought would help me escape nearly raped me, so my belief in my fellow mankind isn’t exactly unshakeable at the moment. Better to stay with the one who at least claims he won’t kill me than make another bad mistake and end up in an even worse situation.
Ten minutes later, Cason and I walk to room 33 at the end of the line of white motel doors. Immediately, I notice someone scratched the word liar into the paint near the doorknob.
“Seems this has been the scene of some cheaters who got caught in the past.”
Looking down at where I point my finger, Cason smiles again. “That’s what you get for screwing around. Someone calls you out on the door where you’re fucking someone else.”
As I follow him inside the dark room, I wonder if he’s the cheating type. Something tells me he isn’t, but not because he’s a moral man or even a loving one. I get the sense he just can’t be bothered with creating the lies that cheaters are forced to. He freely admits to being a killer. I can’t imagine he wouldn’t be as willing to admit he doesn’t care about someone and wants to leave them.
When he turns on the light, the terrible change in our circumstances becomes instantly obvious. My eyes fill with the vision of faded tan walls around us, a threadbare dark brown carpet beneath our feet, and dated furniture that looks like something from a sixties sitcom. On the bed, a dark brown and salmon pink swirl patterned bedspread completes the horrible décor.
Hanging my head, I look down at the floor and see a pale stain that looks like someone in the past drew a chalk outline right where I’m standing. “Oh, Cason. I’m so sorry.”
“Close the door. No point in complaining. This is where we’re staying, at least for the next few hours.”
I quickly make a beeline for the bed so my feet don’t have to be stuck on that filthy carpet. “I’m going to have to boil my entire body when we leave here.”
Cason flashes me a look before he sits down next to me. “So much for the silent Lily the desk clerk got.”
Sulking, I fall back onto the bed. “I’m sorry. I thought I could talk again.”
He turns around to glare at me, and I remember all too well that whatever kindness he has in him can be replaced by the very man who took me and threatened my life before rescuing me from that cabin. My captor is a killer, as he’s told me repeatedly.
“I just realized your T-shirt is ripped,” he says, pointing at my collar.
My fingers trace the tear that goes clear to my shoulder as the memory of Doc shredding my new shirt comes rushing back. I shrug, like it doesn’t matter.
“It’s just a T-shirt.”
Cason shakes his head. “No, I mean the desk clerk guy saw you standing there in ripped clothes. He probably thinks I’ve been roughing you up.”
“What do you care what he thinks? He’s just some kid working the overnight at a seedy motel in the middle of nowhere. Who cares if he thinks you’re not some charming date?”
“I don’t care. I just noticed it.” He stands up and heads toward the door. “Stay here. I’ll be right back. Don’t do anything stupid, Lily.”
Under my breath just as he leaves, I mumble, “That’s my thing. Doing stupid stuff. That’s how I ended up in this place with a man like you.”
I don’t know why his noticing my ripped shirt bothers me, but it does and I don’t have the ability to do anything other than lash out that way. I doubt he even heard what I said, so it isn’t like it matters.
Still, his callous attitude after mentioning something about what happened with Doc stings.
I lay there staring up at what I hope is a water stain on the ceiling and not the result of someone’s ass exploding upwards at some point. We’re stuck in this place because of me. God, I’m so stupid. Why did I have to run away, even after he said he wouldn’t kill me?
“Because I didn’t believe him,” I say under my breath. “Because once someone tells me they’re going to kill me, it’s hard to get that out of my goddamned head.”
God, is it possible my father has paid his debt to Cason’s boss and this can all be over? Maybe that’s what he’s hearing right now if he’s out there talking to him on the phone. If that’s the case, we can leave this shitty motel room and I can be home by dawn.
With only that tiny bit of hope, my mood improves and I jump off the bed to go check out the bathroom. As I make my way across the disgusting carpet toward the bathroom door, I silently pray to God it doesn’t look or smell like someone died in there.
Opening the door, I flick on the light switch and see pink tiles on the wall and floor that aren’t seriously dirty. The grout looks like it needs a good bleaching, much like the rest of the motel room, but the sink isn’t filthy from hard water stains and the pink toilet is actually clean inside. I pull back the white shower curtain that looks sort of new and see not pink tiles with grimy grout lines, thankfully, but a shower enclosure without a hint of mold. It’s nothing like the bathroom in my room at the estate, but for a rundown old motel, it’s a pleasant surprise.
“Wow. I guess this comes under the heading of thank God for small favors.”
Behind me, I hear Cason return to the room and slam the door behind him. I peek my head out and see he looks even more miserable than before he left.
“Just to let you know, the bathroom isn’t terrible, believe it or not. It’s actually sort of clean.”
He sits down hard on the bed and sighs. Without looking at me, he nods and says, “That’s good. We’re going to be here for at least tonight, so it’s nice to have a bathroom that isn’t roach infested.”
Roach infested? Holy mother of God! Even the thought of that makes my skin feel like bugs are crawling up and down my body.
“What’s wrong? You don’t look like you’re thrilled about the semi-clean bathroom.”
I walk over to the bed and sit down next to him. Waves of anger come off him, frightening me. He doesn’t answer my question, so I ask again, hoping his mood isn’t due to anything I’ve done.
Tilting my head, I lean down in front of him to meet his gaze. “What’s wrong? You seem upset. Did something happen outside?”
He doesn’t answer at first, but simply shakes his head and frowns. With every second that passes, I grow more and more frightened. Has something bad happened? Did he call his boss?
Suddenly, fear rushes through me, and I jump up from the bed. “Did something happen to my father? Cason, please tell me. Did your boss do something to him because he hasn’t paid yet?”
I can barely control my emotions while I wait to hear his answer. His expression doesn’t change, but he shakes his head as he reaches out for my hands. Taking hold of them, he stills my movement and then looks up at me.
“No, your father is fine. He still has a couple more days to pay. Victor hasn’t done anything to him because I have you as collateral.”
Collateral. And right there is the truth of all I am in this nightmarish game. Just something to make sure my father pays his debts. Not a person who’s scared and worried she won’t make it out of this.
Just a thing.
