Page 20 of Stealing His Cupcake (Stockholm Syndrome for the Win #2)

Wyatt

The four missed calls on Amy’s phone are easy to ignore but the message has me frowning.

Kayla

Pick up the phone or I’ll come straight away.

Kayla Reynolds’ persistence is remarkable. Normally, I’d appreciate my cupcake having such a loyal friend, but Kayla’s persistence might cause problems. If she comes to Amy’s apartment and finds her missing, she’ll definitely contact the police.

I could message her, pretending to be Amy.

Tell her that Amy is moving away and that she wants to put her old life behind her, including all the people in it.

That she wants to be alone and not pestered by five phone calls a day.

Except Kayla knows Amy better than I do.

She knows that if there’s one thing my cupcake doesn’t want, it’s being alone.

Kayla would know something was wrong and would search for Amy even harder.

Amy was Craig’s emergency contact. The public clearly didn’t know about her being his girlfriend, but the police did, and so did his parents.

The asshole’s mother already threatened to try to pin Craig’s death on Amy.

A smart detective would draw a line between a dead Craig, a missing Amy, and a missing Turbo, and start asking questions I’d much rather left unasked.

The easiest solution would be to kill Kayla, but I can’t do that.

I mean, I could, easily, but I’m certain that’s something Amy would never forgive me for.

She might get over me killing Turbo because he was a rapist, maybe even over me killing people she’s never met, but killing her only friend would be a step too far.

Even if I made it look like an accident, she would still suspect me and never fully trust me.

And, as crazy as it sounds, I want her trust more than anything.

I know I’ll have to work hard to get it, but hard work has never stopped me from achieving my goals before.

For all intents and purposes, Kayla is Amy’s family, which means killing her is off limits. But how else do I make sure she doesn’t meddle with my business?

“Don’t hurt her. Please.” Amy’s voice is barely a whisper, tears once again filling her eyes as she looks at me with such desperation my heart aches to comfort her.

“Please,” she repeats. “I’ll… I’ll talk to her.

I won’t say anything about you,” she adds quickly.

“I’ll just tell her…I don’t know. Something mean to stop her from calling again.

Please. She won’t be a p-problem.” Her voice breaks on the last word.

“She wouldn’t believe you suddenly started hating her but,” I continue before Amy can say anything, “if you can get her to call you only… Hmm, let’s say once every two days? Yes. If you can arrange that and stop her from visiting, of course, then it will be fine.”

Amy bites on her lower lip, which is the sexiest and most distracting thing I’ve ever seen, then nods. “I can do that. But… What happens when she calls in two days and I don’t pick up again? Will you…” Trailing off, she wipes away a tear. “Please don’t hurt her. I’ll do anything you want.”

“If you don’t try anything stupid, you can talk to her again. I don’t have a problem with that. ”

Her lips part, careful hope shining in her teary eyes. “Really? I thought…”

“Really,” I confirm, my heart soaring at the small smile brightening Amy’s expression.

God, I’m so fucked. Pussy-whipped, I believe they call it.

It’s ridiculous since I haven’t even touched her pussy yet, but that doesn’t make it any less true.

“Rules apply,” I say, scrambling to regain at least some of my kidnapper authority.

“You won’t mention me, Turbo, or anything you heard in his apartment.

You will pretend you’re still at home, going about your life like you normally would.

She can’t suspect anything or I will silence her.

” I won’t, but dammit, I need at least some bargaining power here.

I can’t lie down at Amy’s feet and tell her I’m at her mercy. “Understand?”

“Yes! Yes, absolutely. I won’t say anything, I promise. I just… Thank you. Thank you so much.” Another smile. Wider, reaching her eyes, making my pulse go haywire. I want her to smile like that every day for the rest of our lives.

Clearing my throat, I forcefully shove my pink-tinted, lovey-dovey thoughts to the back of my mind and offer Amy her phone. “Call her now.” It’s the middle of the night, but Kayla’s clearly not asleep, anyway. “Put her on speaker.”

Amy’s hand shakes a little as she takes the phone. The tips of her fingers brush against my palm, the brief contact leaving me longing for more. Soon, I promise myself. Soon, I’ll have her in a nice, big bed, all to myself, free to explore her body and finally find out what she tastes like.

The phone doesn’t even ring once before Kayla picks it. “Amy! Oh my god! Why aren’t you picking up your phone? I was so worried!”

“About what? It’s the middle of the night, Kayla. I’m sleeping.”

“Yeah, but you weren’t sleeping the last four times I tried calling you. You promised you would pick up.”

“I…” Amy hesitates, biting her lip again. I wish she would stop because it makes my cock harden, and I can’t even adjust myself properly sitting in th e damn car. “I’m sorry, Kayla,” Amy continues. “I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.”

Kayla sighs. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be so overbearing. It’s just…you looked so devastated I was worried that—”

“That I’d break the pinky promise?”

The pinky promise? Damn, I need to know what that's about. Perhaps instead of killing Kayla, I should just abduct her and torture her for information about Amy? Amy surely couldn’t be mad about that, could she?

“Well, yes,” Kayla says hesitantly. “I’m sorry, I know I’m being annoying.” Very , I agree with her silently. “But I just wouldn’t forgive myself if something happened to you because I left you alone.”

Okay, maybe I wouldn’t torture Kayla too hard. She clearly loves Amy, which I respect, even if it infuriates me that a stranger knows my cupcake so much better than I do.

Taking a solidifying breath, Amy brings the phone closer to her mouth, as if imagining leaning closer to her friend. Her voice is steady, without a sign of the previous tremble as she says, “Kayla, I am not going to kill myself over Craig.”

My heart skips a beat. That’s what Kayla was worried about? Now all those desperate phone calls make sense. Scratch that torture. I should send the meddling bitch a thank-you card.

Is Amy hurting herself still something I need to worry about?

Her hospital file didn’t mention any signs of self-harm, but how do I know she isn’t prone to it?

Or was she just that devastated by losing Craig?

It hadn’t occurred to me, because I knew what a monster he was right from the start, but she didn’t know him that way.

He was manipulative, yes, but kept his abuse veiled enough to convince her he was a loving boyfriend.

She cried for him, tried to go to that awful wake his awful parents—fuck, I forgot to burn down their house—held. Does she still love him?

I watch Amy intently, studying the slightest nuances in her expression, but there’s no trace of a lie as she speaks.

“He was an asshole, Kayla. I know that now. I…I should have seen it earlier. You tried to tell me and I was me an to you and I’m so, so sorry.

” More tears. As much as I wish to see Amy smile, I understand some tears need to be shed.

I just wish she would trust me enough to let me comfort her.

There’s a sniffle from the phone, suggesting that Kayla is tearing up as well.

Oh, great. A girl tear-fest in my car. Not the kind of entertainment I would imagine enjoying while we’re parked in this dark parking lot without a living soul to see us, but if that’s what my Amy needs, then I shall endure it bravely.

No longer worried that Amy will start saying something that would expose me, I relax in my seat, wishing I had my crocheting at hand but too lazy to go get it from the trunk.

I finished the scarf for Amy during the long, sleepless nights as I watched her apartment window, so now I’m working on Ms. Wilkins’ blanket again.

Unlike the gift for Amy, it’s a rather simple, if a much larger project.

The upside is that the stitches don’t require as much attention as the pattern I designed for Amy’s scarf.

“Don’t apologize, Amy,” Kayla says through the tears. “He was manipulating you. You loved him. It tends to make people blind. Just look at me and Nick.”

“Yeah. Men are assholes,” Amy replies with a sigh, then glances at me and amends, “Most of them, anyway.” It’s intriguing since the look she gave me wasn’t fearful.

It was scrutinizing, as if she assessed me and amended her statement based on what she saw.

Which means she doesn’t consider me an asshole. It’s a start.

Kayla hums in agreement. “Yeah. Most of them. So… If you don’t mind me asking, what changed your mind about Craig? I mean, the last we talked, you were all prickly when I even suggested anything negative about him, so this is quite a leap. Was it the session with Miranda? I told you she’s great.”

“She is,” Amy agrees. This time, her look is a little apprehensive as she looks at me. “But I probably won’t be visiting her again. I don’t really need therapy anymore. ”

She’s been going to therapy? I can’t believe I missed that. Great, now I have to arrange for therapy as well as regular phone calls with a girlfriend. Captives are hard work.

“You can’t quit after just one session,” Kayla protests. “You promised you’d go.”

“I promised I’d go once, and I did. Look,” Amy cuts off Kayla’s protest, “I’ll see, okay? Maybe I’ll be too busy, anyway. I need to…find a new job and I might be…” Another look at me. “Busy. So, if you could ease up a little on those phone calls and give me a bit of space, that would be great.”

Kayla sighs. “Okay. I didn’t mean to be annoying. I just love you. Are you sure you’re okay? You sound…different.”

“Yes. I just…I found out some things about Craig.” That has me straightening up in my seat, ready to snatch the phone from Amy’s hand, but the way she shakes her head at me stops me in my tracks.

Her eyes hold a silent plea for trust, which I can’t ignore.

After all, if I want her to trust me, it’s only fair that I trust her in return.

“I went shopping this morning,” Amy continues.

“See? I’m not just sitting at home moping. ”

“Don’t bullshit me, sister. You went shopping because you had no food.”

Amy snorts. “Well, maybe. But…I saw some tabloids there, talking about Craig’s death and—” She huffs out a sharp breath. “There were photos of him with other women, Kayla. So many other women.”

“What?!” I wince at Kayla’s screech. “That lying sack of bullshit! Fuck. If he wasn’t dead, I’d totally drive over just to kick him in the nuts.”

Now, that’s a sentiment I share. Except I’d do much more than just kick Craig in the nuts.

“I’m angry,” Amy admits reluctantly, casting another look at me as if to gauge my reaction. “I know we shouldn’t speak ill of the dead but, dammit! I wish I could yell at him.”

“You still can. I mean, he’s probably being boiled alive in hell, but I’m sure he’ll hear it. ”

Shaking her head, Amy chuckles softly, and it’s the sweetest sound I’ve heard. “It’s 2 in the morning, Kayla. I’m not going to yell at my dead boyfriend in the middle of the night. In fact, I should probably go to sleep. I’ll call you on Monday?”

There’s a prolonged noise that’s probably a yawn.

“Okay. But wait, what about The Price of Passion? There’s a new episode on Sunday and you promised we’d Facetime while watching it!

You can’t back out of that. I need emotional support in case Maggie doesn’t choose Eric.

I will literally not survive that alone! ”

“You’re so dramatic.” Amy’s grin falters as she looks at me.

“I’m not sure if I’ll be able to make it.

I—” Seeing me nod, she pauses. I don’t even know what I’m agreeing to, but I’d do anything to put that smile back on her face.

Covering the phone’s microphone with her hand, she whispers, “You’d let me watch it?

It’s this silly romance TV show we used to watch together before she moved out and now—”

“Yes. The same rules will apply, but if you don’t break them until then, you can watch your show with your friend on the phone. Audio only, no video.” Christ, I’m such a pushover. I doubt other kidnappers spoil their captives this much.

“Thank you!” she whisper-squeals before returning to her call. “I’ll see what I can do, Kayla. I’ll text you on Sunday, okay? And please, no more calls in the middle of the night.”

“Perfect! Sorry about waking you up. I was just worried. I love you, I miss you, and we’ll see each other on Sunday. Right?”

Even though Kayla can’t see her, Amy nods, her smile wider than before. “Right. Thank you for checking up on me, Kayla. I love you too, you know? You’re the best.”

“Aww, now you’re making me blush. Go to bed, weirdo.”

“Yes, ma’am. Bye.”

Amy is still smiling as she ends the call and hands me her phone. “Thank you for this. Really. I…I don’t know what to say. ”

“You don’t have to say anything. I think it’s time we heeded your friend’s advice, though.” My mouth spreads into a grin. “Let’s go to bed.”