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ELEVEN

Dante

I’m glad I awakened before her the morning after her drunken proposition. She moved a lot in her sleep, causing her shirt to ride up during the night. That morning, my hard dick was almost perfectly nestled between her bare ass cheeks. It only takes so much friction before responding. She grunted when I pushed her off me, but didn’t stir otherwise. Had she awakened before me, she would have considered that a victory.

Luckily, a hangover kept her in bed the rest of that day. I removed the cuffs because they were pointless. She removed the duct tape herself but didn’t get chatty again. The next four days, she’d reverted to the quiet version of herself. It’s fine; my mind is recovering from the memories that her intrusion into my past has unearthed.

While I forget next to nothing, there is a lot that I’ve buried over the years to keep going. In the past, the thoughts of ending it all seemed so promising that I knew Father would find a way to take it from me. Now I know that he was removing all my purpose, possible attachments, and love from my life to make me loyal to only him. He came before everyone and everything, including myself. My teacher and tormentor.

I’m not sure what to do after he dies. Maybe I’ll take on more assassin-for-hire assignments or maybe I’ll finish what he interrupted when I was fifteen, since he won’t be around to have my stomach pumped.

I bring my attention back to taking inventory. Our supplies are getting low, making a trip to the mainland necessary. Besides, I need to use the internet to find out what the news is saying about the abduction. It’ll be faster if I go alone since I’ve mastered blending in. Another change I’ve made is ensuring that I’m always clothed to keep the horny bunny at bay.

She’s out on the beach, sitting and staring at the ocean, and I stand beside her. Her eyes catch my water boots, then work their way up my slacks and buttoned-up shirt. I opted for red hair and blue eyes today. Slinging my waterproof bag over my shoulder, I give her an order.

“Go back inside.” She gets up and does what I tell her without a word, and I follow her back inside. “I’m going to Ibiza to pick up some food and items from the market.”

Her eyes flash in surprise. “We’re somewhere near Spain!”

“Does it matter?”

She pokes out her bottom lip and plops down on the bed. “I guess not.”

I reach in the pack to get the device I have for her for moments like this. It has nothing but games and books women seem to love. Her face lights up with interest when she sees the tablet.

“There’s no internet out here and nothing for you to snoop since I created a guest account. Here’s the charger.”

She takes it from me. “All the versions of Candy Crush! Dante, you’re a saint.”

I give her a blank look. It’s obvious she doesn’t know the meaning of the word.

“Don’t let those novels give you any ideas.” She waggles her eyebrows, but I shake my head to keep from smirking. Only she would have a craving for killer dick. “Behave, I’ll be back.”

She’s already crushing candy before I make it outside. The trip doesn’t take long with jet skiing. After docking, I go straight to an internet cafe and use the computer to check the United States’ national news stations. A manhunt of Zagan turned up his mutilated body. It wasn’t mutilated. They are so dramatic.

Now, her “devastated family” is offering a five-million-dollar reward for her return. Too bad I’m not motivated by money. Seeing real worry in Father’s eyes is satisfying but would be even better in person. I don’t want to see worry; I want to see devastation. The leads have gone cold and there’s nothing else to report. Good. I wish I could see when Father starts to feel the hopelessness parents feel when they begin to think that they’ll never see their child again. I want him to experience his darkest days before he dies.

A quick overview of the weather shows me that I need to hurry up and get back to the island. An unforeseen storm is coming soon. I’m an advanced jet skier, but the ocean doesn’t care about anyone. Moving quickly, I purchase the necessary items then add chocolate bars as a last-minute addition since she mentioned wanting some, I’m assuming it’s because her period will start in a few days.

The wind is cool, and the unrest of the waves is evident. Time is running out. When the jet ski roars to life, I push it to go the fastest it can without capsizing. The water fights against the ski, making it take more strength and effort than usual, but it isn’t anything I can’t handle. I’m about ten minutes away when a bolt of lightning rips through the sky. The blinding flash makes me flinch and my adrenaline triples once the jet ski flips. The almost sunless sky makes it murky underwater, and I must feel my way back to the top. My leg is caught by the handle of the ski getting inside of my right water boot, and it keeps pulling me under. Giving it a few tugs, I find that it isn’t budging. I must cut the boot. Taking a deep breath, I let the waves push me back under to get the knife from my left ankle. The jet ski bobs in the water, trying to drag me in the wrong direction. It’s tiring me out. Feeling the hard edge of my knife fills me with relief as I unstrap it.

Surfacing again gives me time to take a big breath and aim for where I’m stuck. The ski shifts again, and my knife slices my right thigh.

“Fuck!” I yell from the pain but fight to work to continue with my mission.

I’m nearing exhaustion when I finally cut myself free, but know that bleeding in the ocean is dangerous. The exertion to fix the jet ski has me worried about my ability to make it back to the island. Once I right the jet ski, I climb back on, intensifying the pain radiating through my hurt leg, but I must push through.

The blood loss is problematic and the fear that I might not make it starts to sink in. As the island comes into view, I’m losing consciousness. I fall with a hard thud when the ski hits land. Rain pelts down on me, but I don’t have the energy to move.

I’m slipping into the black when I hear my name in the distance.

My head pounds, and I have no desire to open my eyes. The solidness beneath me tells me I’m in my cabin. She’s singing a song, and it takes a few lines for me to realize she’s singing the chorus to “Fix You” by Coldplay. I’d roll my eyes if they were open. I try to move, but my wrists are handcuffed to the side of the bed. My suspicion rises and my eyes fly open to assess the situation. Her hair is pulled back into a damp ponytail and she’s on her knees next to my leg, biting her lip as she sews the wound shut.

“Why am I cuffed?”

“Hmm?” she hums as she looks up from her task.

“Why am I handcuffed?” I ask again.

She shrugs like it’s not a big deal. “I was gonna rape you when I was done, but you woke up too early.”

“And the real reason?” I question her, ignoring her ridiculous statement.

“I didn’t know if you were the wake-up-swinging type and did not want to get punched while fixing your leg.” Makes sense. If it were reversed, I would have tied her up to shift the power and have her at my mercy, but everyone is different. She does the last stitch and wipes her hands. “Done.”

“Good,” I say and release myself from the cuffs, sitting up while ignoring the pain shooting through my body to look at her work. I studied her enough to not doubt her skill; I just want to see the damage. “Thank you.”

She’s staring at me with her eyes agape. “How did you get out? Never mind, that isn’t even the most surprising occurrence of the night.”

“What is?”

“The blood,” she admits as she starts wrapping my leg. “I’m surprised you bleed. I expected to find circuits and wires.”

“Shut up.” I chuckle at her stupid joke.

She studies me as she ties the gauze, then moves closer and rubs her fingers through my hair like she’s examining my head.

“Do you remember bumping your head?” she inquires.

“No, why?”

Sitting back on her feet, she looks at me curiously. “Don’t be alarmed, but you thanked me, and you just laughed.”

The goofy look on her face is cute. Well, she’s cute when she’s not making a face. I’ve just never bothered to acknowledge it. I lie back down on the floor. The tarp underneath me explains how she got me back in here. I continue to allow the silence to stretch without a word, because I realize she’s one of the reasons I fought to come back, and it had nothing to do with vengeance. That’s not the only thing that bothers me. Why did she even bother? I would have left me outside, hopefully to drown in the rain.

“How did you know I was outside?” I finally ask.

“I saw you ride up. The sky looked ominous, and I was worried about you.”

She lies down on her side next to me after her admission.

“Why the fuck would you be worried about me? Aren’t you supposed to hope I’d die?”

“No, Dante.” Propping her head with her hand, she looks at me.

I’m convinced she’s the crazy one now. Her worrying about my safety doesn’t make sense on any level.

“Why not?”

She brushes some of my hair out of my face with her fingers, and I fight the urge to push her away. We’re not friends or lovers. She’s my captive, yet she still chooses to be soft and kind in moments like this.

“Because you are my everything.” I frown at her words, but she clarifies. “Not in the romantic sense, Dante. My life is literally in your hands. You knew exactly where to bring me to leave me helpless. I live by you, and I die by you. Our lives are intertwined now. I’m at your mercy. On this island, if you die, I die. My life depends solely on your will.”

I don’t respond, because what the fuck am I supposed to say to that? It’s true, I did choose a place to isolate her in a way where she couldn’t escape without my assistance. It’s easier this way with less variables to control. It was my goal to make sure that she wouldn't have a whim to run because there wasn’t anywhere she could go. She gets off the floor and grabs the prescription of sedatives.

“I see you’ve been snooping again,” I point out.

“Only for your benefit. Originally, I thought this was one of the reasons you kept me. Since I’m a nurse practitioner and all.” She looks at the pill bottle and gives me a side-eye. “I see you’ve taken advantage of my prescription pad. Looks like I’m not the only snoop. How long have you been watching me, exactly?”

Pretenses are pointless at this juncture of the mission. “I watched you move in.”

Blowing out air, she shakes her head. “I feel like that was supposed to be more alarming.”

My head still hurts, so I do my best to get more comfortable and close my eyes. “And instead?”

She walks into the kitchen, so her voice sounds a little further away. “After this ‘adventure’ you’ve forced me on, being watched from afar is child’s play. Honestly, I’m just asking myself why the sexy ones are so twisted. I haven’t been attracted to anyone in a long time. It was bad when I realized that I was attracted to a bartender on the worst day of my life, but that bartender turned out to be my worst nightmare. How’s that for luck? Like not only do you take me to kill me, but you also choose to walk around naked or damn near naked, then become offended when I try to get some. Twisted .”

She has a habit of making a serious situation sound somewhat funny. I don’t crack a smile as I rest my eyes, but I will admit it’s weird hearing her talk like this. I never noticed how melodic yet raspy her voice is when she’s yapping. It’s sexy. The tarp rustles when she kneels on it.

“Here.” She gives me a banana, pills, and a bottle of water. “I was able to get your bag after I brought you inside.”

It’s a good thing I was wearing it, or I’d have to go back. My body is too sore for such a trip. I sit up to eat the banana and take the pills. Normally, I don’t like medication, but everything hurts, and I just want to sleep.

“Come on, let’s wash this sand off before you pass out.”

She’s so gentle, I almost hate it. The differences in them are so massive that I'd question her paternity if there weren't some of his features in hers. Her niceness unlocks the remnant memories of the last people who were ever genuinely concerned about my well-being. Father never was. Part of me knew that, but Andrea's findings wouldn't allow me to live in denial any longer.

I’ve been leaking all the information Father stored in my head to the cops and beyond, slowly making him hemorrhage money. I know his failure to reach me is maddening. Good.

But as the shower warms my body, I lose my focus on my goal again. Between taking my body to exhaustion, the pain, and the meds, I’m able to turn off the angry part long enough to accept the assistance while showering and getting back to the bed.

I’m already dozing off in bed when she returns from her shower. “Do you need aftercare instructions, or are you good from here?” she teases like I’m a real patient.

I’m smirking again when I tell her the same thing I would have said yesterday. “Shut up and go to sleep.”