I smiled blandly, remembering the taste of the murderous pharmacist who’d been stalking my sweet Aura into a nervous breakdown and then tracked her down into the mountains of Oregon. Adrenaline from his terror made his blood such a delicacy. So tingly as it flowed down my throat. I managed a solemn expression for Aura. “Oh, downstream a ways. He was pretty banged up.” I leaned forward, staring sincerely into the computer monitor. “Bears, you know….”
Aura shuddered, as I knew she would.
“Look, this is a new beginning. You don’t have to worry about him ever again.” I smiled a little devilishly. “How are you and the lumberjack doing?” She blushed a little, again, as I also knew she would.
“Fine…” she mumbled. “He’s really sweet. Takes great care of me. I feel like I’m being selfish. I should be doing more.”
“Hey,” I soothed, “you’re still recovering your strength. And it’s obvious Mr. February on the Hot Lumberjacks calendar is happy to do it.”
Aura laughed. “Whatever, James. That’s so creepy. But the man does rock the plaid shirt…” she drifted off with the misty look of a woman who has finally been properly fucked.
I chuckled, “Well, good. How are the last two chapters coming? Did your editor over at Crown go through them yet?” Aura smiled, happy to be off the conversation of Steve, or as she titled him, Lumberjack Steve, who’d saved her life from her stalker.
And was a vampire.
The patches of sun that managed to fight their way through the clouds were dimming, sending long shadows against the office building when I said goodbye to Aura. “Say ‘hi’ to Steve for me,” I grinned. Her brow rose.
“I didn’t know you two had turned into best buddies all of a sudden.”
“Jealous?” I teased, knowing she would laugh in exasperation and she did, before saying goodbye. The floor was quiet, I was the last one here, which is how it should be as the CEO of the Barnes Agency. Now, the only thing I could think about was getting home.
There was so much to be done at home. So much to look forward to.
There was always an odd pull when my Ferrari pulled out of the building’s parking garage. The new office building where I held most of the top floor was unique. I’d selected it for this reason. While one side faced the glory of the Sound, the sparkle of the waves, and redolent with the scents of seafood and Chinese cuisine, the other loomed over the darkest part of the city. Decaying buildings and a sense of dread and resignation that wouldn’t be found in the usual tourist spots. I needed my little kingdom of misery - just a few twists and turns through this bleak part of town grounded me.
There was so much prey, here.
Rolling my gunmetal grey sportscar through the street, littered with trash and human souls waiting for what would happen to them next. Giving a brutal blowjob in a car for a small roll of money slapped into their hands. Maybe someone who’d offer a hit big enough to end their misery. Because anywhere was better than Burton Street.
There, I spotted the young woman standing on the corner. She would have been pretty without the pale, feverish skin of an addict, hands shaking as she placed them on the passenger side door. “What’s up, my man? You needing company?”
I smiled at her warmly. She’d be fine.
Meghan…
James lives in a tall brick house on the other side of the harbor from downtown Seattle. Solid metal and oak doors, black iron bars on the windows on the lower level. It looked like a beautiful, well-kept fortress. Which it was.
I would know. I’d been trapped here for six weeks now.
When I had woken with a neck still stinging from the needle he’d plunged into me, I’d screamed and fought to escape my prison. “What the fuck are you doing!” I shouted at him furiously, the bastard settling back in a richly upholstered armchair by the bedroom’s fireplace. “I want out of here, you freak!”
Ugh. That smile of his. It warmed his eyes from the cold blue-grey into something almost human. “You’ll learn to be happy here, doll,” James said gently, but the gleam in his eyes showed how much he was enjoying this. “No one will miss you. I handed in your resignation at work.”
“My friends will notice!” I spat.
His laughter was ugly, “Please. I have your phone. You haven’t had a single call or a text since I took you. No family, you were in foster care until you graduated from high school. You don’t even have any close friends from college, do you?”
I turned away, sick as I realized he was right.
My prison was certainly luxurious. An expansive main area with a black walnut table and comfortable wingback chairs in forest green silk. The fireplace was a thing of beauty and comforted me even though I hated this place. Tall and wide enough for three men to stand in. And knowing James it was possible that had happened. The flames would flicker off the rich glow of the wood wainscoting and high, timbered beams supporting the vaulted ceiling. There were windows to look out, at least. Floor-to-ceiling windows of old leaded glass reinforced with black iron frames.
They were soundproofed. I learned that after banging and screaming on them until my hands were bloody.
And then there was the bed.
A stupidly huge bed, high enough that getting on it required a running start, but it was worth it. The thick mattress was littered with innumerable soft pillows and silk and cotton blankets, cashmere throws, the colors of the world outside, the green of the hills around the Sound, the blue of the water. Four high posts rose at the corners, some kind of African Ironwood with carvings of leaves and flowers and sly little faces peering out from behind them. It was draped at the top with swathes of cream-colored linen that cast shadows against the ceiling as I would lie back against the pillows, staring up and making stories about what I saw there.
It was the only stroke of good luck that a literary agent - wow, did that sound harmless! - had kidnapped me. Two of the walls were covered with bookcases and thousands of books. His client’s books. First editions from writers as diverse as Shakespeare to Jane Austen. I could curl up in the roomy window seat and lose myself in story after story and try to ignore that the horizon was turning shades of violet and purple and that soon he would come back.
