Page 21 of Captive

“And the best way to make sure I keep my mouth shut is to get my hands as dirty as yours, implicate myself,” I say, putting the pieces together. Not going to lie, it’s something I’ve thought a lot about the past few days. Might as well make myself useful while I’m here, even if they end up changing their mind. “I get it. I’m okay with that.”

Royal smirks hard. “Told you.” That, I’m not sure if he says it to Hawthorne or Ezra. Doesn’t really matter.

“Before we go over how we normally do things, however, there is one necessary piece of information we are missing,” Hawthorne says. He leans his forearms on his desk, his amber eyes staring straight at me. “Your full identity. Your last name. I’ve been watching missing persons reports in the area, and it seems there has been no submitted report when it comes to any Abby or Abigail.”

He sounds suspicious of me, but I suppose if I was in his position, I’d be suspicious, too.

No point in hiding the truth, so I tell him, “Abigail Brown is my full name. There hasn’t been any reports of me being missing because I’ve been sticking to myself lately.”

“No job that’ll miss you?”

“No job that cares enough.”

“And what about family? Friends? You say you’ve been keeping to yourself, but how long until someone notices they haven’t heard from you?”

I shrug. “I went no contact with my family years ago.” After… well, after the thing that broke us. It doesn’t take much to shatter a family’s connection. You’d be surprised how easy it can happen, when you all lose the one person that was apparently the glue that kept you together.

Everyone deals with loss in their own way. I left and never looked back. I couldn’t.

And friends? Friends went the same way. When one of you experiences that kind of loss and they haven’t, no amount of apologies and well wishes could change things. Sometimes it’s easier to cut the cord and say goodbye. Ghosting exists for a reason.

“And you don’t have to worry about any friends,” I tell him. “I’m a loner just like you three. We’re regular old peas in a pod. It’s almost like we were meant to find each other, huh?” Though I say it as a joke, a part of me does mean it, because seriously, what were the odds?

Hawthorne adjusts his glasses. “I will have to do some research and make sure everything you’ve told us is true. If everything comes back with no red flags, you can look forward to getting some fresh air soon.”

Ezra asks me, “Do you have any other questions for us?”

“I do, actually. The whole sweeping everything off the desk and ravishing me until morning is still off the table? Or off the desk?” As I say that last part, I crack a grin, unable to help it.

Hawthorne groans, while Royal smirks again. Ezra’s expression is mixed.

I drop my arms to my sides and wave it off. “Well, if you guys ever change your mind, I am totally down for some semi-uncomfortable sex on hard furniture. Also down for some comfortable sex on soft furniture, too, for future reference.”

Figuring I’d said enough, I duck out of the office, and as I do so I can’t help but smile.

For a group of serial killers, it sure is easy to get under their skin, but hey, at least we’re making progress. Soon enough, this little captive is going to prove her worth.

I can be a team player.

Chapter Ten - Royal

As far as I know, nothing turns up when it comes to Hawthorne and his search of Abby’s true identity, which means everything she told us was true. A good thing. I don’t think we’d be able to progress at all if she’d lied. Lying would have been a very bad sign.

No room for liars in this house.

I’m in the basement, working out two days later when Abby slinks in the room and takes a survey of the area. All the weight machines, the hand weights, the treadmill; everything one could possibly need to keep in shape. I note the workout clothes she wears, too: a matching set of light pink joggers and a tank top that hangs loosely on her figure.

And you know what? She looks fucking good. In those clothes, with her hair pulled up in a messy ponytail… yeah, she looks good. She looks too good to ignore.

We aren’t supposed to get close to her like that, but I’m a man who’s increasingly growing weaker and weaker as the days go by. The more I see of her, the more I fucking want her—and the more I just don’t understand why we can’t mix some pleasure with business. If she’s going to join the team, that puts her on a different level than every other woman outside of this house.

Hawthorne should understand that, right? If we were to… you know.

Fuck.

I’m laying down on the bench press, working out my chest and biceps as she saunters over and eyes me up and down. Or, more accurately, eyes me from head to toe. She must like what she sees, because a sly grin tugs at her lips.

And those fucking lips? Full. The kind of lips that I bet are soft as fuck.