Embracing Fate: A Captive Hearts Novel Read online

  “Stop throwing corny lines at me. I’m pretty sure we’re communicating just fine. You want me to jump at the snap of your fingers? I’m pretty sure that’s never going to happen.”

  She crossed her arms. “You’re more like your brother than I thought. You’re both thick-headed and insufferable.”

  “I’m certain he wouldn’t agree.”

  “Whatever. It’s hot as blazes out here and I’m tired of standing in the heat. You coming or not?”

  “See you never.” I turned away from Kate and gave a wave of dismissal.

  A bus ticket.

  Clothes.

  And something else.

  Five years of abstinence had me craving hard, raw, and gritty sex. Edgy some would say. My darker desires needed to be indulged. Reformed didn’t mean the devil didn’t live inside me. This time, however, I would ask for consent. I wouldn’t take. I wouldn’t ruin another life, but I would slake this hunger inside of me.

  Crack!

  Something bit my ass. Stung like a bee.

  Had she just…? I grabbed my butt cheek and spun around.

  “What the hell!”

  The bitch sliced the pocket off my faded jeans. The guard, the one who had been staring hard at me until I started walking, was nowhere to be found.

  “As I was saying,” she said, “you and I are having a failure to communicate.”

  “I’m not going anywhere with you. Why the hell are you even here? I’m literally the last person on earth you should want to see.”

  “What I want, and don’t want, is irrelevant, and frankly it doesn’t matter.”

  “What the hell does that mean?”

  The woman made zero sense. But damn if she didn’t look one hundred percent certain she would win this exchange.

  “Get in the car.”

  “Not until you tell me why I should.”

  “Because I need a rapist, a murderer, and a thief. You just happen to fit all three, and you owe me a favor.”

  I owed her a hell of a lot more than a favor.

  “I was never a thief.”

  She snorted. “Two out of three will do. Now, for the love of God, get in the damn car.”

  I walked to the passenger door and cocked my head. This woman confused the hell out of me. If I didn’t know better, Kate seemed desperate. That intrigued me, and for that reason alone I decided to go along with whatever she had planned.

  “Since you’re finally asking me all nice and shit, I think I just might. Where exactly are we going?”

  “To my office. Like I said, you work for me now.”

  “Interesting idea, but not happening. I’m only getting in because I need a ride. Take me to town, drop me off at a motel, and let’s agree to never see each other again.”

  “Not happening.”

  “And why is that?”

  “Because you owe too many debts.”

  “So you keep saying.”

  “You’re going to come because you have nowhere else to go, and you’re going to listen to what I have to say.”

  “Well, start talking.”

  “We’ll talk in my office.”

  I didn’t like the way she kept deflecting, but I had to hand it to the girl. Kate Summers didn’t bend, at least not to my will.

  “How about we stop for a burger on the way? And I need to buy a clean set of clothes.”

  Her gaze cut over my stained T-shirt.

  “I suppose you do at that. You can take care of shopping after we stop in my office.”

  “Before.” I didn’t know what it was about her, but I felt a need to win some piece of this argument.

  “I don’t have time to be driving you around town. My office first.”

  “Tell me why you need a murderer, rapist, and thief.”

  “I thought you said you weren’t a thief.”

  “Not a convicted one. I’ve picked up a few skills over the years.”

  “Good. You’re going to need it.”

  Chapter 2

  We spent the ride in silence letting the Hemi engine roar down the road. I discarded half a dozen things to talk about.

  Kate and I had nothing in common, except Jake.

  My twin remained at the forefront of my thoughts, but I found talking about him impossible. I figured we’d get to it and settled in to wait. If Kate picked me up, my brother had to be involved. I just didn’t know what I would say when I saw him again.

  Sorry, I nearly got your girl killed?

  Sorry, I nearly raped her?

  Yeah, those were not the best conversation starters.

  For a classic muscle car, Kate had done well to keep the Barracuda in original condition. In the overwhelming silence, I turned my attention to examining the fit and finish of her car. Air only slightly cooler than that from outside blew out of the pop open floor vents. The vinyl seats had seen better days. Years of use had cracked the low back bucket seats. Seatbelts might be the law, but the single, lap buckle didn’t pull out far enough to reach across my lap. Even if it had, the webbing had seen better days and I doubted it would hold in a crash.

  I stretched my arm across the bucket seat, keeping my distance from Kate. I didn’t want her getting the wrong idea.

  Strange how she didn’t flinch when I did get too close. She wasn’t afraid. That soothed me. It meant something that she didn’t suffer any post traumatic injury from the past. At least, it didn’t appear like she suffered.

  “Nice ride,” I said, if only to slice through the oppressive silence hanging between us. “What’s the story behind it?”

  “It was my father’s. When he passed away, it became mine.”

  “I’m sorry about your father.”

  She gave me a sidelong glance. “Look, we’re not going to be pals or buddies. There’s no reason to get to know each other or share intimate details of our lives.”

  “It’s called small talk.”

  “How about you talk a little bit less?” She tightened her grip on the steering wheel and stared straight ahead.

  I swiped at my brow. “Your air-conditioning could use a boost.”

  The corner of her mouth quirked up. “It’s a Hemi ‘Cuda. These things didn’t come with AC.”

  “I know that, but it’s been retrofitted. Vintage Air, right?” There were few options to retrofit air-conditioning into old cars. The faintest breeze blew out of the kick panel vents, coolish but far from cold. “Your compressor needs more juice.”

  A look of irritation flickered across her face. “My father installed Vintage Air back when he restored the car. I haven’t had a chance to take care of her like I should.”

  “It doesn’t take much. Just charge it up. They’ve changed some of the regulations but you can still recharge the compressor.”

  “It’s on my list.” She flicked her hair off her shoulder. “If you’re too hot, you can open the window.”

  I did just that and peeled my sweat soaked shirt away from my chest. The air blowing in from the tiny triangular louvered window gave little relief.

  Our extensive conversation fizzled after that. I spent my time staring out the window. Kate spent hers ignoring my existence. When I wasn’t looking out the window, I held my hand outside and rode the wave, surfing the wind as we barreled down the two-lane country roads.

  An hour later, we pulled into a rundown strip mall. She parked in front of a set of double glass doors. Overhead, a sign proclaimed the storefront as Kate Summers, Private Detective Agency.

  “Interesting,” I said.

  “What?”

  With a shrug, I indicated the sign. “I figured you gave all this up after you and Jake…”

  “After we what?”

  “Just figured you’d moved on.”

  “Oh, because since Jake and I are seeing each other, you presumed I quit my job to let him take care of me?”

  I gritted my teeth. She was infuriating and Jake wasn’t taking care of her. He was her goddamn Master.

  “I thought—”
<
br />   She waved away the rest of what I had to say.

  “Thank goodness your brother isn’t a chauvinistic ass like you. You thought I gave up my job? To do what exactly? Wait on him hand and foot? Is that what you think is happening?”

  “You’re his submissive, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, but not his slave.”

  And yet she was exactly that. Or had been. I knew they had only been pretending on account of the case she’d been working; the case which brought her to me and eventually put me behind bars. I also knew neither one of them had been pretending. Why deny it now?

  “Sorry, I just figured you would’ve gone into business with him at Stripes. It is kind of up your alley. More than…” I waved my hand at the signage over her office. “More than this.”

  “You don’t know me at all.”

  I glanced down at her hand, realizing what was missing. No ring. She had a collar, but no ring. Why hadn’t my brother married her? I had just assumed.

  I was surprised she worked at all. Did that make me chauvinistic?

  Probably.

  Did I care? Not one damn bit.

  What I did care about was my presence at her office. When she said I would be working for her I thought it was more figurative, but this had me thinking she really did expect me to work for her.

  Why she brought me here remained as muddy as to why she picked me up. Although, if she thought I was going to be working for her, I was even more confused. Ex-cons and private investigators didn’t exactly work together.

  The rumble of the engine died with the turn of the key. I liked that about old cars. No keyless ignition. A person drove this kind of car. Once I got access to my money, I might buy something similar. Not a Barracuda, I had my eyes set on a classic, maybe a little red Corvette, 1971 sounded like the perfect year.

  Without another word, she exited the vehicle. I followed, taking my time and growing more curious with each step. She pushed on the doors and a tiny bell gave a gentle tinkle.

  “Hey, boss!” A young woman with a pixie haircut looked up from three computer screens crowding her desk. She pulled off her headset and widened her eyes when she saw me, then narrowed them to tiny judgmental slivers.

  Great, another person who hated me.

  Her high-pitched voice was familiar and as grating as I remembered. I’d stalked Kate’s place of business back when my father and I had been planning Kate’s abduction.

  Mitzy was a spunky, twig of a girl with spiky hair in various shades of blue, red, purple and even an eye-sore orange. My father had briefly considered taking Mitzy, but I put the brakes on that. At the time, we had our hands full with Kate who was breathing down our necks investigating our case.

  “Hey, Mitzy,” Kate answered. “Any calls?”

  “Naw, it’s been a slow morning.” Mitzy leaned back in her chair. She crossed her arms and gave me a hard once over.

  I locked eyes with the girl. She wasn’t the least bit intimidating, and she was no girl. Mitzy had filled out and grown into a beautiful woman, minus the crazy hair. Definitely, not my type. Not with that spunky temper and judgmental glare.

  “I don’t know about you, Boss, but that’s kind of freaky.” Mitzy pointed at me. “Is he giving you the heebie-jeebies, too?”

  “Necessary evil,” Kate said with a shrug.

  The twist of Kate’s mouth and her pinched expression, told me exactly what was going on inside her head. I looked identical to the man she loved.

  I’d fooled her once, back when everyone believed me to be dead. I’d done horrible things without her consent. Not that she hadn’t been willing to do those things with Jake. She just hadn’t known it was me.

  Gah, the things I’d done to this woman twisted my stomach. How could she stand to be in the same room as me? Breathe the same air as me? Why hadn’t she put me out of my misery?

  Time to punch out.

  “Look, thanks for the ride, but this isn’t such a good idea.”

  “No way in hell are you leaving.” Kate bit out the words and gave me a look that could cut steel. She pointed to a door. “Have a seat in my office. I’ll be with you in a minute.”

  Her bossy attitude was getting old fast, but I found myself heading to the door. Not because I suddenly had a need to obey the woman. No. Far from that.

  Simply put, I was bored.

  I had been bored for years with nothing but my cell, or the sparse expanse of the prison block, to keep my mind engaged. Now, I was growing more curious by the second.

  What value did I hold to Kate Summers?

  A large mirror filled most of the interior wall of the cozy reception area. I didn’t have to get close to know the mirror was one-way glass. I’d seen my share of them to recognize one on sight.

  As to why she spied on her customers, I didn’t know, but I could surmise a thing or two. Kate liked having the upper hand. It made sense.

  Women weren’t common on the police force, but she’d risen rapidly through the ranks. She’d fallen even faster after being outed as a BDSM Mistress. But even there, the mirror made sense. Kate studied people. Perhaps that’s why she’d been such a good police detective and made a name for herself as the Mistress of Pain.

  I glanced over my shoulder and gave the women another look. They seemed focused on whatever Mitzy had pulled up on the center monitor dominating her desk. Although, from the way they both kept sneaking glances at me, whatever had their attention involved me in one way or another.

  Maybe it wasn’t her customers but the girl that Kate felt a need to keep an eye on? Pure speculation and most likely not the case, not with the easy familiarity which flowed between those two. Mitzy might call Kate Boss, but they clearly shared the closeness of dear friends.

  Kate pointed at the screen. Lowering her voice, their conversation drifted below the range of my hearing, although I did pick up snippets of what they said.

  A yawn escaped me. I had no reason to be tired, but boredom was kicking in. Whatever Kate had up her sleeve needed to happen soon, or I would turn around and leave.

  “How can you stand to be near him?” Mitzy’s whisper wasn’t meant to be heard, but I’d become accustomed to monitoring my surroundings. It saved me from getting shanked on more than one occasion.

  That was the thing with pretty white boys in a predominantly black prison. They saw me as fresh meat, something to amuse themselves with while passing the endless hours. Those assumptions proved lethal to some.

  They thought me to be a pretty, rich, white boy convicted of rape; easy prey. They didn’t know about the murders I committed in Thailand. The accidental death of a girl in a BDSM scene gone wrong landed me in that jail. Two years later, I counted myself among the survivors, and my education in several deadly arts had been honed to perfection. I survived by staying alert, making myself useful, and forming unusual alliances.

  Who said prison wasn’t useful?

  I became a man the monsters feared.

  It was a lesson the inmates in my most recent prison population soon appreciated. They called me Ghost and Retribution when they thought I wasn’t listening. Ghost because no one ever caught me in the act. Retribution because anyone who messed with me learned a valuable lesson, generally associated with the loss of body parts. I could be a creative bastard.

  This was the legacy my father left me with.

  “I can’t!” Kate’s whisper wasn’t nearly as low as Mitzy’s and rang through the store.

  She met my stare with a frown, then ducked her head back down. Mumbling, she waved me away. “I’ll be with you in a moment.”

  Dismissed, I stood exactly where I was, determined not to allow Kate to boss me around. With nothing to look at except my reflection, I turned my attention to the magazines on the coffee table.

  Organized with meticulous care, they fanned out across the wooden surface. On closer examination, I grinned and wondered which of the two of them had OCD. I bet a ruler would show each magazine placed precisely to the left of its neig
hbor by a quarter of an inch. And they were ordered by thickness from thick to thin. All the magazines on the coffee table were the exact same trim size. Smaller mailers decorated the twin coffee tables bracketing the sofa.

  I’d say it was Kate, but then I’d been in her apartment. The woman was neat but not this specific. That meant Mitzy was the culprit of the obsessive decor. Odd then, how her desk didn’t match. Chaos littered the surface, pens were scattered about, and an empty drink bottle and two cans of soda were pushed to the edge.

  The girls pressed their heads together, whispering into each other’s ears, a conversation not meant for me. It would be too obvious if I approached Mitzy’s desk, besides I wasn’t the kind of person to eavesdrop. So why did I care if they were talking about me?

  With a deep breath, I steeled myself to wait and headed into Kate’s back office. She would get to me whenever she was done with Mitzy.

  Other than a phone call later tonight, my calendar was wide open. I had literally nowhere to be. No pressing business. Nothing but time. And no phone. I’d have to call my parole officer from here.

  But why was I here? What use did Kate have of me? I didn’t know, and honestly? I was afraid to find out.

  Chapter 3

  A no-frills kind of girl, Kate’s office mirrored that of the front reception area. Out there, a faded couch, repurposed chairs, and a beat-up coffee table gave customers a place to sit, but no creature comforts welcomed them to settle in. The magazines on the table were a year out of date and no refreshments or snacks encouraged people to get comfortable.

  Kate didn’t try to make things look fancy or welcoming in her personal space either. The utilitarian decor continued inside her office. A beat-up chair sat before a battered military desk which had seen better days. Dents, scratches, and pits in the metal marred its otherwise smooth surface. One bookcase sat against the wall, and a surprisingly comfortable appearing leather chair rested behind the desk.

  Cheap bargain store landscapes decorated the walls of the long, narrow office. A scan to the right revealed a long metal rod hanging from the ceiling. Dangling from it, five metal targets waited for action; the kind you’d expect to see at a pistol range. Only, this was no range, but I had no doubt those targets saw a lot of use.