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  “Awake?”

  It’s Harris.

  I don’t answer him at first. I’m trying to decide how I feel that it’s him I’m in the car with. While it’s better than being in the car with Mike, it’s not that much better. He is Mike’s second in command, after all. Of course, having said that, Harris has never physically hurt me, and he did stop Mike from shooting me. I wonder why?

  “Why am I here?” I ask.

  “We’re going to my house.”

  “Why?”

  “Because Mike is letting me have you until he decides what to do with you.”

  He’s letting Harris have me. It sickens me. Being away from my former occupation, even for a few days, has impacted me. I’m already getting addicted to the moments I’ve had of a normal lifestyle. One where I’m not giving myself away. I don’t think I can go back to it. Especially with Harris.

  “Figures,” I say.

  “What?” he asks.

  I adjust my seat so I’m sitting upright, and I wince in pain.

  “I’ll give you something to help the aches and pains when we get to my house. Now tell me what you meant by saying it figures.”

  It’s easy to be myself around Harris and tell him exactly how I feel. I don’t like it, and I can’t explain it, but that’s how it is. I try to tell myself he’s a dangerous man, but it doesn’t work.

  “It always seems to me that you try to separate yourself from Mike. That doesn’t make sense, because you work so closely with him, but that’s the impression I get.” I peek over at him, and his lips are pulled down in a frown. “Yet in the end, you’re just like everyone else.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means that when it all boils down, you’re really just biding your time until you can have a piece of me, too.”

  His frown deepens, and he slows the car down. I look around franticly; we’re in the middle of nowhere. “Why are you slowing down?”

  He’s silent as he pulls well off the road and comes to a stop. In that moment, I know I’ve pushed him too far.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. I’ll shut up. Please don’t.”

  When the car comes to a stop and he turns to face me, it isn’t anger in his eyes, but shock. “Damn it, Athena. What the hell do you think I’m going to do?”

  “You were pulling off the road because I said something rude and snarky. What do you think I believed was going to happen?”

  “You thought I was going to hit you?”

  “Or worse.”

  He sighs. “I pulled off the road because I wanted to give you my full attention, and I can’t do that and drive at the same time.”

  “Oh.” I should feel guilty for thinking Harris would treat me like that, but I don’t. When you’ve been around as many men as I have, you realize that even the nicest ones have secrets. And you should never underestimate the strength a man has, because some of the strongest men I’ve met are small. Although no one would ever call Harris small.

  “To answer your question, Mike has assigned me as your keeper until he can find you a partner.”

  “Partner?” I’ve know Mike for over ten years. There is no way he’s looking for a partner for me. “I don’t believe you.”

  “You’ve said that a lot to me lately.” He almost smiles. “I wouldn’t know what to think if you actually did believe me.”

  “No, I believe he assigned me to you, but I don't buy the line about a partner.” I raise an eyebrow. “When you say gave....”

  For the first time since I woke up in his car, Harris isn't smiling. His face contorts into an expression of disgust. “His exact words were, ‘Do what you want with her, but try to keep her alive.’”

  Try to keep her alive.

  My stomach revolts even though it’s empty, and I dry heave. That one phrase echoes in my head. Try to keep her alive. Try to keep her alive.

  “Athena.” Harris’s voice is faint. “You’re okay. Take deep breaths.”

  But I’m not. I’m not okay. Mike took away my ability to be okay years ago, and no matter how hard I try, I never seem to be able to take it back.

  “Let me leave,” I say in-between heaves. “Please.”

  “I can’t do that.”

  Right. Because even though he acts nice, he reports to Mike. I’ll do well to remember that.

  “Don’t look at me like that,” he says. “Do you know how dangerous it’d be for me to let you go?”

  I’m doing this for your own good. Fuck, it’s almost like Mike told him exactly what to say. My life is one horribly messed up glob of lies that someone tried to dust off and make look pretty, but the sad truth is, at the end of the day, it’s still a glob of lies. I’m so tired of lies.

  Just this once.

  It won’t matter.

  You’ll love it.

  I’m only looking out for you.

  It’ll be okay.

  “One day,” I tell Harris. “I’m getting out and I’m going somewhere where I get to decide what’s best for me.”

  He’s nodding. “I understand your desire for that. Now’s not the time.”

  For a minute, I get the impression there’s a hidden meaning behind his words. Almost as if he’s trying to tell me something. I tilt my head. He really does have pretty eyes. And right now they’re begging me to understand.

  “Who are you, Harris?” I say.

  He doesn’t flinch. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Let’s start with your last name.”

  “My last name is Harris.”

  “Your name’s Harris Harris?” I can’t help it; I laugh. “How did you manage to piss your mom off so badly before you were born?”

  He starts the car again and pulls onto the highway. “I didn’t piss my mom off before I was born. Harris isn't my first name.”

  “What’s your first name?”

  “Caden.”

  I wrinkle my nose. “Harris Harris is better.”

  “I’ll tell my mom.”

  We’re a few miles down the road before I realize I’m smiling.

  You are so fucked up. You shouldn’t be comfortable with this man.

  But my smile doesn’t go away.

  He drives us to a house about fifteen minutes outside of Vegas. The home he pulls up to is larger than I would have imagined a bachelor living in. And though it’s not isolated, his neighbors aren’t so close he can see what they’re eating for dinner by looking out his window.

  “Big place for a guy living by himself.” As soon as the words come out of my mouth I realize I have no way of being certain he actually lives by himself. For all I know, he could be married with five kids.

  But he replies simply, “I like my space.”

  I’m more sore than I thought and it hurts like hell to climb out of the car. Harris is by my side in a flash after hearing my moan.

  “You should have waited for me.”

  “I’m perfectly capable of getting out of a car,” I snap back.

  He takes my attitude in stride, neither getting angry or coddling me. “I have some of your clothes in the trunk— ”

  “Don’t want them.” I start to hobble to the door.

  “You have to wear something.”

  I stop and turn around. “Caden Harris, I’ve had a woman die in my arms. I’ve almost been killed. I haven’t had anything to eat in I don’t know how long. I’ve been this close to escaping from the jackass who’s owned me for the last ten years and not long ago I was given to a man with instructions to do what he wanted to with me as long as he kept, rather tried to keep, me alive. Shove the clothes up your ass. I’ll go naked before I wear them.”

  His eyes crinkle at the corners, and he’s trying hard not to laugh. “Do you want the toothbrush, or should I shove it up my ass, too?”

  There’s no way to answer him, so I head back to the door and wait for him to unlock it.

  He closes the trunk, wisely leaving the clothes where they are. “There’s a public nudity res
triction in my homeowners agreement, so wrap a towel or something around you before heading outside. Deal?”

  “Deal,” I say as he opens the door and waves me inside.

  He leads me down a short hallway into a spacious kitchen. “I’ll give you the grand tour later, but right now you need something for the pain and food.”

  My stomach rumbles at the thought of eating. Harris opens the nearby pantry and starts pulling things out. “Peanut butter and jelly sound good? It’s quick and easy to make, plus it has protein.”

  “Sounds delightful.”

  He waves toward a table in front of a bay window. “Go sit down and let me get this ready.”

  I don’t need to be told twice. I sit down and watch him work. He’s making himself a sandwich, too.

  “Milk or something else?” he asks.

  “Milk’s fine.”

  Minutes later, he places the sandwich, milk, and two pills in front of me before taking his seat across from me. I raise my eyebrow at the pills.

  “Ibuprofen,” he says.

  I swallow them before taking a bite of the sandwich. “Oh my, God,” I say after my first bite. “This is the best peanut butter and jelly sandwich I’ve ever had.”

  “Or else you were starving.”

  “That, too,” I say around my second bite.

  He’s quiet as I eat, and I appreciate the silence. As my belly is filled, my eyes grow more and more heavy. I’m surprised I’m not snoring by the time I pop the last bit of bread in my mouth. Harris has been watching me carefully, and when I finish, he stands up.

  “We need to talk, but you need to sleep first,” he says.

  I yawn, but push back from the table and follow him down a hall. He points to a bedroom. “That’s my room. You’ll be here,” he indicates an adjacent room.

  Well, that answered one of my questions. I wouldn’t be sleeping in the same bed as he did. Which didn’t mean he wouldn’t expect sex at some point. Matter of fact, I’d be willing to bet he would want to sleep with me. Probably not now.

  “A shower.” It hits me. I’d been so caught up in food, I forgot how rank I probably was.

  He looks over me in assessment. “You’re barely able to keep your eyes open. I don’t think you and water would be good now.”

  I yawn again. This time, bigger than the one in the kitchen. “You’re right.”

  “I know I am.” He doesn’t step inside the bedroom he’s declared mine. “Sleep now. When you wake up, you can take a shower and we’ll talk.”

  He may be talking more, I’m not sure. My mind is totally not paying attention to him anymore. My focus is on the bed in front of me. It looks so inviting. I’ll sleep on top of the covers; that way I won’t get them smelly.

  Harris says something from the doorway.

  “What?” I ask.

  “Come find me after you wake up and shower.”

  “Yes,” I say, climbing up on the bed. “Sometime next year.”

  He chuckles and closes the door.

  ***

  I’m in a dark room. Either that or I’m blindfolded. I can't tell which. I’m also naked. It’s cold in the room and wish I had something to cover my body.

  “Absolute perfection,” a strange voice says.

  I turn my head in the direction it’s coming from, but there’s nothing there. Must be a blindfold on me.

  “She is,” a voice says that is eerily familiar. “Would you like to try her out?”

  Someone unzips his pants. “How good is she at sucking dick?”

  “She’s superb. But don’t you want her tight ass?”

  “Maybe. I prefer my fucks to be intelligent as well as easy on the eye, though. Did she go to college?”

  “She didn’t finish high school. Now, this one over here...”

  His voice grows softer as they move away from me. I have a feeling I just failed something, but I don’t know what it is. I’m not sure where I am or who’s with me, and with my blindfold, I can’t get a good feel of my surroundings. The air around me moves and it suddenly gets colder.

  “No one wants you.”

  Mike! I struggle to move, but I can’t get my limbs to cooperate.

  “Tsk, tsk, tsk. You ever wonder why you never see an old whore?”

  I must be tied to something. I’m getting nowhere and nothing comes out of my mouth when I try to scream.

  You don’t see one because there aren’t any.” He draws closer to me. “And I think you’re old as you’re going to get.”

  There’s something covering my face. Pressing. It’s a pillow and it’s getting harder and harder to breathe. I try to turn my head, but he’s too strong. My limbs flail uselessly. I can’t breathe. My lungs burn for air.

  “Athena,” Harris’s voice pulls me from the darkness. “Athena!”

  I suck in a deep breath and open my eyes.

  “Are you okay?” Harris’s normally jovial eyes are filled with concern. “You had a bad dream.”

  “I couldn’t breathe.” The dream had seemed so lifelike that my lungs still ached.

  “That’s probably because Munchkin decided your head made a good pillow.”

  For the first time I see the large white cat beside me. “Munchkin?”

  “He was the runt of the litter.”

  “He’s part horse.”

  The large ball of fur must sense that we’re discussing him. He rolls onto this back and Harris responds by rubbing his belly. “I think he’s mostly dog.”

  Munchkin is purring. I reach for him and run my fingers over his soft fur. “I always wanted a pet. A dog or a cat.”

  For a few minutes we’re silent, both of us rubbing Munchkin’s belly. It’s crazy how different my life has been the last few weeks compared to what it was for the last ten years. Sitting on a strange bed, in a strange house, petting a strange cat, doesn’t feel all that strange for some reason. I like it, but, then again, I look over to Harris. I shouldn’t like it.

  Sure he appears nice enough, but they all do in the beginning. I can’t forget that even though this is a nice-looking house and there aren’t bars and gates, it’s still a prison. I can’t just decide to leave and walk out the door.

  And no matter how good-looking he is, how nice, and how much he smiles, Caden Harris is still my jailer.

  I pull away from Munchkin. “What did you want to talk about? I’m rested and not hungry. I’ll shower after.”

  If Harris notes a change in my attitude, it doesn’t show. He says, “Okay, let’s go into the living room,” and scoops the monster cat off the bed. I follow him.

  Like the other parts of the house I’ve seen, the living room is decorated in American bachelor fashion: big screen TV, leather sofa and recliners, and a desk in the corner with more electronic devices than most office supply stores have.

  When he sits down on one end of the sofa and faces me, all traces of humor have left his expression.

  “I made a deal with Mike to get you out of there. I can’t tell you everything, but what I do tell you is true. Do you trust me?”

  I almost say ‘yes’. It’s the answer he’s looking for, the one he wants. But I can’t do it.

  “No,” I finally reply.

  “I can’t say I blame you,” he says. “I’m not sure I’d trust me either.”

  “What kind of a deal did you make with Mike?”

  “I was able to bring you here because I told him I’d see to it that you were prepared for your next assignment.”

  “Which is?”

  He shakes his head. “I can’t tell you that right now.”

  “This is why I can’t trust you.”

  “I know, and I’m sorry, but there are things I can’t tell you right now.”

  The leather of the sofa is cool against my fingers. It feels good against my heated flesh. “This isn't over, is it?”

  “Not by a long shot, I’m afraid. I did get his permission to stay at home for the foreseeable future.”

  Which meant he would always b
e around. I’d be lying if I said the thought hadn’t crossed my mind to simply leave the house when he went into work. Another useless plan shot to hell.

  “The other thing,” he starts, and I already dread what the other thing is. “Mike’s letting me stay here and not be at the office with him because he’s set up video conferences to monitor your progress with me.”

  What the ever-loving fuck? “Say that again.”

  “He’s going to monitor your progress via webcam and let me work from home. I’ll let you know when to expect them so you won’t be caught off guard.”

  “Mike won’t be here?” I ask

  “Not unless he thinks I’m a miserable failure based on what he sees on the video.”

  I inhale deeply and ask the question weighing heavy on my mind. “What happens to me after he’s satisfied with my progress?”

  “Athena, look at me.” His blue eyes beseech me, and when I look into them, I see the truth I saw long years ago when we first met. He’s not like the others. “I need you to trust me on this. I don’t know the timing and I don’t know exactly when Mike will want you for your next assignment, but for right now, you’re safe.”

  “I’m trapped here. That’ s not safe. I can’t leave when I want or go where I want. I can’t even—”

  “Do you want to live?”

  His question knocks the wind out of me. “Yes.”

  “Then I need you to do the hardest thing you’ve ever done. I need you to trust me.”

  He may as well have asked for the moon. That’s just about as likely to happen.

  ***

  I feel even more human after my shower: clean, refreshed, and with a full belly, plus I’m not as achy as I was before. I hurry down the stairs and see that Harris is outside on his back deck. I pour myself a glass of water in the kitchen and join him.

  He looks up at my arrival. “Feel better?”

  “Much,” I say, taking a seat in the chair beside him. “I did some thinking.”

  He doesn’t reply but waits for me to continue.

  “I thought about what you said earlier. I’m still not happy about being here, but you’ve never done anything to hurt me, so I’m going to trust you.”

  “Thank you, but you don't have to make it sound like a fate worse than death.”

  “I’m not. I know death would be worse.” I glance sideways at him. “With you, death is only a possibility, not a certainty. That makes it marginally better.”