Willing Captive(8)

Without answering, Nox releases my arm and slips the blindfold back over my head.

Son of a bitc-

Nuh uh. I don’t like it. The blindfold has got to go. Sighing loudly, I reach up and yank the blindfold above my eyes. “I think you know I’m not going to run. Where the hell would I run to?”

Nox’s glare is harsh and his lip curls. “For f*ck sake, Delilah! When I put a blindfold on you, there’s a goddamn reason.” He leans closer to me and whispers, “Don’t push me, little girl. You don’t wanna see my bad side.”

I blink a second before my eyes widen and I lean back from him as I whisper hiss, “This is your good side?”

He says nothing but his cheek tics again. I’m thinking that might have something to do with me. I haven’t confirmed this yet.

Holding up my hands in surrender, I concede, “Okay, okay. Sheesh. I’ll wear the freakin’ blindfold. Don’t get your panties in a twist, oh captain, my captain. And don’t call me Delilah.” I see his jaw clench tighter and I bite my cheek to stop myself from smirking. Pulling the blindfold down, I hold out my arm which he grips tightly and leads me out of the van.

We start walking, and after a while, I do not like the silence. Just as I open my mouth to say something, no doubt crass and sarcastic, I trip over a jagged stone and stumble to my knees. Nox hauls me up not a second after I fall. “You ‘kay?” He says this in a way that could have been interpreted as ‘You are a burden in my life and I don’t like you’.

Currently blind, I push my arms out towards the sound of his voice and they luckily connect with his chest, pushing him back about a hairs breadth. My face flushes more from embarrassment than rage. “Goddamn it! Watch where the hell you’re going! This is why I don’t like the blindfold. Blindfolds are used in trust exercises, you moron, and I think it’s clear that I. Don’t. Trust. You!”

I’m shocked when he apologizes. “Sorry. Got distracted.”

This doesn’t placate me. Not one teeny bit. “And you’re meant to be protecting me? What the hell? Jeez, just feed me to the sharks, why don’t you!”

My knees sting like hell but I don’t utter a word of complaint, because let’s face it, Nox doesn’t seem like a giver of f*cks. What I have noticed is that his grip on my arm is marginally lighter and he’s walking a lot slower, too. We stop and I hear footsteps, but no one says a word. Some loud mechanical whirring sounds start up and I jump back in fright. Nox squeezes my arm in what I’m sure was meant to be reassurance. It feels more like a threat, though. We walk another short while, then I hear a door creak open, and suddenly, I can see again.

Whoa! Where the hell are we?

This house is fab-u-lous. My mouth gapes and Boo appears by my side. “It’s the shit, huh?”

Eyes wide, I simply nod. I shake my head to clear it. My voice is low and shallow as I ask, “Where are we?”

Boo opens her mouth, but Nox cuts her off. “Safe house.”

More like safe mansion! I scan the room I’m in. It’s not as big as my house but it’s big. And nice. And open. At a glance, I can see a modern kitchen complete with marble countertops, a six-burner stove, and an oven big enough to fit to three Thanksgiving turkeys in it. The dining room has a sixteen-seater mahogany table with matching chairs.

Who the hell entertains for sixteen people? That’s not a dinner party, that’s a freakin’ fiesta.

The sparkling white walls confirm the owners of this house plan to have no children. The chandeliers in the main hall and dining area are large and gleaming. The ceilings are as high as high can be. The furniture is all mahogany and stunning. This place is timeless. This may very well be my dream house. It’s so homey and warm. I love it. But this place is huge. Spinning around, I risk a question that I’m not sure I’ll like the answer to. “Is my family coming here?”

Boo’s face falls and I know the answer before Nox says it. “No, Lily. You’re to remain separated. You won’t have contact with them until the threat we’re protecting you against is gone.”

My heart lurches.

How long will that be?

I don’t risk asking another question I may not like the answer to. Reaching up, I rub my temples with my fingertips. “Can you please tell me what the hell is going on? Why am I here?” Even to me my voice sounds tired and strained.

Silence. I open my tired eyes and look up at Nox. He searches my face. “Eat first.”

Too tired to argue, I nod, and drag my feet after him.





***





Nox





This is bullshit. This is not what I signed up for.

I sneak a glance at Delilah Flynn and I know, I just f*cking know that she’s gonna be trouble. As soon as she smashed that vase on Ricky’s head, I knew I was f*cked. When you look at her, you think the word pushover.

You see this pretty girl stuck in the body of a tomboy. She 5’8” and wears a pair of black loose athletic shorts that come just above her knees, a yellow football style tee that’s two sizes too big that comes just above her stomach showing her bellybutton and a pair of white sneakers.

Her choice of clothing doesn’t suit her face.

She’s pretty. And when I say pretty, I mean pretty. And she doesn’t even know it. Which doesn’t help me in the slightest. Her long, dark-reddish hair has half come out of its ponytail. It’s thick and has a wave to it. Her face is clear and her skin has a peaches-and-cream thing going on. She’s pale. Almost like she’s never seen the sun, but it suits her. Her bright-green eyes are encased by long dark lashes. She doesn’t wear a stitch of makeup. She’s naturally pretty. But that hair…that f*cking hair. I haven’t seen anything like it. It’s thick and shiny. She’s got nice hair.