A Captive Situation (Kings of New York)

They were laughing, shouting, or crying through the entire night. And based on hearing all the glasses that were clinking, they were also getting lit downstairs. The doorbell rang at one point, and I moved closer to the door in case it was someone coming for the contract.

It wasn’t.

The pizza aroma was the first giveaway. The second was when the husband exclaimed, “It’s Napoli’s!”

There was a gushing conversation about the place, which led to another conversation about the proper way to eat a slice. Clara was down for the fold. Bess was arguing that it needed to be rolled. I was listening for Sawyer’s way of eating it, but she was quiet. Graham was giving Oliver crap about taking the cheese off his slice.

The dogs were barking, asking for their own slices.

I was standing up here like a fucking creeper, knowing there was a legit reason for my stalking, but I had to admit that it was nice to hear these people. They were family. There was a warmth to their entire evening’s chatter, with concern tinged underneath it. There were a few awkward silences, but I had to hand it to Sawyer. She said this was why she came to the city. It was a whole deflection so she didn’t need to focus on the real loss in her life, but she’d done it. Graham had been brought back into her family, and judging by how her aunts were talking, they weren’t letting him go. He was in and there was no option of not being in.

It was now nearing midnight when they began saying good night.

I slipped into Sawyer’s bathroom briefly before taking my position once again. If something was going to happen, it would happen now. The guys who were willing to grab Sawyer to kill me would not care if other people were in this house.

Sawyer stumbled to her room twenty minutes later, her gait a little jerky and her foot heavy. She pushed open her door and stopped just inside the doorframe. “Whoa.”

“What?”noveldrama

I pulled the closet door closed and eased farther back in the closet at hearing a male voice. He’d accompanied her.

“Whoa. This is so weird. It smells like . . .”

“What does it smell like?” He drew in an audible breath. “That’s probably Oliver. He’s been trying new deodorants. He was up here this morning to put fresh sheets on your bed. He must’ve come up here again to check on your room.”

“That makes sense.”

No, it didn’t. She was smelling me. And she knew it.

She muttered, “You’re probably right. I just thought for a second—”

“What?”

“Nothing. It’s nothing. This room is amazing. Your whole place is amazing.”

“Thanks.” He sounded proud. “Oliver . . . Oliver comes from money.” His voice hushed at the end.

Sawyer was quiet.

He rushed ahead, his voice rising a little. “Not that his job doesn’t do well. He does. He’s in real estate. And I do well, too, but we were only able to afford this place because of his family’s money. He’s not pretentious, though. At all. Thank goodness. I shouldn’t have said anything. Please don’t tell anyone in the family. My mom doesn’t even know—”

He would’ve kept rambling, but Sawyer cut in, speaking softly. “I won’t say anything. Oliver is amazing. You guys seem so happy. How long have you been together?”

“Thanks.” He sighed in relief. “We’ve been together for almost eighteen years.”

“Eighteen?” Her voice dipped low.

Jesus. Eighteen. It was the same amount of time she’d been with Douchebag.

“I dated a little when I first came here but met him after a few months. It’s been him ever since.”

“I’m happy for you.”

“Thanks, Sawyer.”

A pregnant silence took over them.

Graham said, hesitating, “I know there’s a lot to talk about, like real stuff. We didn’t get into it tonight, but I have to ask. Can I—you were terrified when I came to get you. It’s obvious the aunts don’t know about that part, but Sawyer, you thought I might’ve been followed. I need to know. Are we—are you in any danger? Are we?”

She didn’t reply right away. When she did, her voice was low. “I—I don’t know, to be honest. My head’s been a mess with everything. I’ve been fucking everything up since I got here.”

“What do you mean?”

She was silent again for a few beats. “I think in the beginning, I couldn’t handle what my ex did to me. I’ve done it since I was a kid. If something’s happening in my life that I can’t cope with, my mind breaks off. I daydream or I think up these things. It’s a coping mechanism. Like dissociating a little. I can’t answer because I’m not sure myself. Does that make sense?”

That was fucked up. She’d seen two guys try to shoot us. I killed them in front of her.

I’d explained everything to her.

But then you locked her in the bedroom when you left, too, a voice spoke up in the back of my head. I ignored that voice. I couldn’t afford to wait around and see if she took it seriously. I needed answers. We needed answers. There was no time to hold her hand. Locking her up was the best option for both of us.

She groaned. “I think I just need to sleep. I’m sure things will make sense in the morning.”

“Okay. If you’re sure?”

“I am. I’m sorry. I’m not intending to keep you in the dark. I just want to make certain that I’m sure about what I’m going to say. There could be ramifications.”

He was quiet until he murmured, gently, “If you think that’s the right thing to do. I can wait, but tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow. Not the aunts. They can’t know. God,” she exclaimed. “They would lose their shit if they found out.”

He said good night after that.

She went to the bathroom, was in there a while, before moving back to the room. The bed creaked. She seemed to be settling to go to sleep when there was a soft knock at her door.

The bed creaked again. She padded to the door, opening it. “Hey?”

One of her aunts was there. “Hey, sweetie. I just wanted to check on you. How are you really doing?”

They eased into the room. The bed protested as someone sat down. “I’m okay.”

“No, honey. I mean it. We didn’t bring up Beck at all tonight, but that’s the whole reason you’re here. Your mom’s worried. You’re not responding to her either.”

“I can’t. My phone—” She cut herself off.

I waited for her to finish that statement. Her phone had been charging under her purse.

I’d picked up her purse.

I’d put it back in the same place . . . Or was I a few inches off?

Shit. I couldn’t remember.

Her aunt didn’t notice the slight hitch in Sawyer’s voice. “We’ll get that fixed in the morning, but I just wanted to check in with you. One on one. Your mom has been blowing up my phone. Did you want to talk about Beck at all? About . . . About him, back home? About Manda?”

“I . . .”

She sounded defeated and tired, so tired. I held back my frustration at needing to stay hidden. Everything in me wanted to tear out of the closet, to take her away from all of these people who were making her talk about topics she clearly didn’t want to discuss. Let her deal on her own timetable. I didn’t care if she dissociated or deflected. I hated that she was second-guessing herself, hated what part I played in that, but they needed to give her fucking space. Let her talk about it whenever the fuck she wanted to talk about it. She didn’t owe them anything.

She finally confessed, “I just really don’t want to talk about it.”

Exactly.

Her aunt remarked, “Yes, but you need to. Eventually. Call your mom tomorrow. She knows you’re fine and she’s less worried now that you’re with family, but we’re all concerned. We have your back. You know that.”

“I know. Thank you, Aunt Bess.”

Christ. Her voice was soft, as if she were making herself smaller. I gritted my teeth, loathing hearing that. Let her fucking feel what she wanted to feel. Let her think what she wanted to think. Let her be. She’ll face her shit when she was ready. It was her timetable, not theirs.

“Clara’s already made friends with Willy.”

“She didn’t.”

“She did. Willy’s pissed at what Beck did to you. He trained his cameras on the house, and he’s been sending that footage to Clara on the regular. We know his entire schedule, and say the word, we’ll start moving in to fuck him up. You know that Clara also changed her daily walks to go through Manda’s neighborhood. She’s making connections there, building up a network of spies. We’re loading our resources so you have them when you want them. We’ll keep compiling all the information you need to know.”

Jesus. Her aunt Clara sounded more gruff and abrupt downstairs, but hearing this one speak of their movements, both of them thought how Mafia gangsters operated.

Sawyer’s voice was strained when she replied, “That’s very thoughtful and appreciated, but right now, I kinda just want to go to sleep and wake up tomorrow to enjoy a day with you guys. All of you. I mean, we’re in Graham’s house. Graham and Oliver.” Her voice dropped off to a whisper, thick with emotion. “That’s a really big deal, Aunt Bess.”

The bed whined again. “Come here.” Her voice grew muffled. “One last hug and I’ll head off, let you go to sleep.”

Sawyer’s voice was also muffled, a bit teary as she sniffled. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Sawsaw.” There was a kissing smack before the bed groaned once more. The floor creaked. The door sounded as it was swung open. “You sleep good. If you can’t, you can sneak in with us. That bed is giant. Did you see how big their bed is? Five people could fit in there.”

Sawyer snorted, holding back a laugh. “I think it’s more so they have enough room for them and the dogs.”

“Right. The dogs. We might need to get you a German shepherd when we get back. Or a Doberman.”

“I don’t need a Do—” She stopped to rethink. “I’ll think about it. Night, Aunt Bess.”

“Night, sweetie. Love you.”

The door shut.

She went to her bathroom and I could hear the water turned on.

I waited for her to finish in there.

Except the closet door swung open.

Sawyer wasn’t in the bathroom.

She was staring right at me.