Meet Me In The Dark: (A Dark Suspense) (25 page)

I like the touch. I can’t help it.

“Eat,” he says, noticing my stillness. “It’s hot. I ate downstairs, if you’re wondering. But if you think I drugged it, I’ll eat half with you.” He smiles then. “You can feed me. Will that make you feel in control?”

I melt a little more. I might even blush. But I come to my senses and scoop up a forkful of meat and deliver it to his lips. He takes a bite, wincing, like it burns his tongue, and then he chews.

“See,” he says. That melty smile is back. “It’s not drugged. One for me, now one for you. Eat.”

I take a bite for myself and have to tuck down the moan at how good it is. I feed him another bite, and he says nothing as he wraps my hand in white gauze. He puts a cotton ball between my fingers to keep them from touching. I take more forkfuls of meat and potatoes, mostly forgetting to feed him. And when he’s finally done with my hand, I’m done with the food.

“Did that hurt?” he asks.

I nod. It hurt like fuck.

“Then why didn’t you say something?”

“What’s the point?”

“I’d know to be more careful.”

“You were careful.” He was, too. I’ve seen this done before. You don’t live up here and not know what to do with a minor case of frostbite.

“It’s a signal, Sydney. So I can tell what’s going on inside your head.”

“You really do not want to know what’s going on in my head, Case.”

He takes my tray away and puts it back on the table, then hands me the bottle of water and sits down next to me. “I really do.”

“You want to use me.”

“I just want to know you.”

“God.” I laugh, then take a drink. “Such a player.” I cap the water and lie back, pulling the blankets up to my neck.

He studies me, like I’m some sort of specimen, then stands up and unbuttons his jeans, letting them drop to the floor. He’s not hard, from the quick look I get at his junk before he slips into bed next to me. He wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me close to him. “Are you tired?”

“So tired,” I say, meaning it in more ways than one.

“I’m just the wrong guy, Sydney. That’s all I can say. I’m the wrong guy.”

“Wrong for me, you mean, right? Because you were the right guy for Sasha. You were the shining knight for her. I’m just not Sasha and that’s all you have to say.”

“You’re not Sasha. But that’s not why I’m the wrong guy. I’m just…” He drops off for a few seconds. “I’m pretty much everything you said. All of it is true. And I’d hate for you to count on me and then it just fucks you up more when I don’t come through.”

“Well, I’ve got nothing for that.” I close my eyes, the issue settled in my mind. Merric Case is not in my corner.

His hand travels up to my breasts and he fondles them for a few seconds, maybe gauging how I will react. “I had no idea you were a virgin,” he whispers. “That fucked with my head pretty bad.”

“Why?”

“Garrett and I were in the army together. We did… shit. Military shit, obviously. And none of it was good.” He stops here. Like that admission was a huge step for him. “Did Garrett tell you what we did?”

I shake my head. He did tell me some things, but I don’t want Case to stop talking. This is quickly turning more personal. And I like it. I don’t want him to go silent again. Or walk away. Or give up on me. Even if he is just using me to save his friend. I guess I have to take what I can get. “Garrett made me memorize that little speech to give you. After… you know. That’s it.”

“You didn’t deserve any of this shit, you know that, right?”

“I know that,” I whisper.

“I don’t think you do.” Case places his hand on my shoulder and turns me around. I don’t really want to face this new Case. I don’t know what he’s doing or what he wants, but I seriously can’t take any more lies. I’ll just die if this is a ploy. “It’s not your fault you were born to that Company asshole. It’s not your fault your mom died when you were born and you never had that—”

“She didn’t,” I interrupt. “Die when I was born, I mean. She died when I was fourteen. I watched it happen, actually. She was very allergic to peanuts and she was on a school field trip with me. Some kid in my class had a peanut butter sandwich. And the smell of it was strong enough to trigger her allergy. She had one of those Epipens, you know? For emergencies? But her throat swelled so fast, it didn’t work.”

He’s silent for a few moments, like he’s thinking. “Still,” he finally says. “It’s too young to be motherless. And that sucks about your mom.”

I nod. “It messed me up. I know that’s what allowed them to control me more. I just stopped fighting. It was the second worst day of my life.”

“Second? Jesus, what was the first?”

“That night you left me, Case. That was the worst day of my life. Ever. I just slipped away after that. Being here with you now, it’s made me think clearer than any other time in my life. And I just know—even though you hated me then, and still do now—I know that if you had taken me with you, I’d have turned out different. Better, maybe.”

Case sighs as I turn away from him again. I can’t bear to see his face after that pathetic admission.

“I can’t take it back, even if I wanted to. I did the right thing for me that night. The right thing for Sasha.”

I think about this for a moment. A few moments, actually. He relaxes behind me and his breathing is deeper. Like he’s about to fall asleep. I wait a little longer, until I’m sure he is. And then I speak the words I want to say, but I’m afraid for him to hear. “You can take it back. Just say it and I’ll believe you.”

Silence.

He’s asleep.

I’m relieved and heartbroken in the same instant. So I just close my eyes and chalk it up to another pathetic Sydney failure.

“I can try to make up for it, Syd,” he says after a little while. “But I can’t take it back.” He whispers it, leaning in to kiss my head. I don’t move. I don’t want him to know I’m still awake. Because it makes me want to cry.

“When you know you’re not a man’s first choice the worst thing you can do is settle for second pick.”

– Sydney

W
hen I wake up I’m alone in the crow’s nest. But I can smell food wafting up from below. The meat was good last night, but I’ve missed too many meals in the past couple weeks to be satisfied. I swing my feet out of the bed, put my clothes on, and wander down the stairs.

Case is talking to someone. On the phone. I guess that means he gets service up here.

I could call someone. Brett, maybe. But do I want to bring him into this? Do I want to leave this game we’re playing before it even gets started?

I get to the bottom of the stairs and spy Case in the open kitchen, cooking and talking at the same time.

He smiles, and continues his conversation. Like he didn’t kidnap me and hold me prisoner. Like we didn’t beat the shit out of each other last night. Like I didn’t trick him into this in the first place.

Well, I have to give him a pass on that one. He has a clue, but he’s still in the dark.

He waves me over and then says goodbye to whoever it was on the other end of the line. “Hungry?” he asks, flipping pancakes on a griddle.

I walk over to the kitchen and take in the place now that I can see it all properly. A huge, huge cabin. I know what these things cost, and I know the value of the land he’s got here, since it backs up against what I think is the Yellowstone River. Millions of dollars.

But his style is not pretentious. It’s not that fake log-cabiny feel that you see rich city people decorate in. People who aren’t really a part of this world, but want to feel like they are when they vacation in their million-dollar homes with their bazillion-dollar views.

It’s country-ish. Homey. The couches aren’t even leather, like you might expect from a man. My fingertips drag along the back of one as I step closer to the kitchen. Cotton. Soft. With throw pillows that look like he uses them to sleep, because they are all crumpled.

“Sydney?” he says, his tone a little more commanding. “Are you hungry?”

I look up at him as I make my way past the furniture. He has a nice dining table too. Rustic, but looking like it was made by hand by someone very skilled. I drag my fingertips over that as I walk as well. Polished and smooth. “Yeah,” I answer, taking a seat at the quartz-topped bar that also serves as a counter. He’s got butter and syrup out and there are two place settings with silverware.

He fills a plate with pancakes and slides it down the stone. It comes to a rest directly in front of me. “You’d make a great bartender with that slide,” I say with a smile.

“I’ve seen your slide, Syd. It’s dead on. Like getting that mug directly in front of a customer is winning a gold medal for you.” And then he turns to let me think about that.

He’s been watching me for years. So how much does he really know?

He slides a glass of orange juice next and I catch it in my hand when he overshoots. I get a shrug out of him for that.

I study his back as he flips some more pancakes. He’s hot. I didn’t want to tell him that the last time I thought about it. But there’s no denying. Merric Case gets what he wants because a) he doesn’t take no for an answer, b) he’s got the skills to back up his ‘requests,’ and c) he’s handsome.

He fills his plate, walks around the counter, and takes the barstool next to me. “Eat,” he says, pointing to my plate with a fork. A second later he’s stuffing his face.

I take a bite, then a few more before gulping some juice and coming up for air. “Mmmm. It’s good.”

“I know,” he says smugly. “I have two real talents, Sydney Channing. Killing and cooking.”

I nod and stare at my food. Right.

“So do you want me to take you to the truck?”

I take a bite of pancakes to think about this.

“Or do you want to hang out?”

“Pfft.” I look up with a laugh. “You kidnapped me.”

He shakes his head. “You came to me. I just kept you longer than you expected.”

“You drugged me. Hit me. Fucked me.”

He shrugs. “I did.”

“So now you want me to believe you want to hang out with me?”

He stabs at his breakfast. “You can if you want, that’s all I’m saying.”

“So now I get to do what I want?”

He shrugs again, but doesn’t look at me. Just chews and stares out the window at his bazillion-dollar view. “I guess I’ll take you back, then.”

“Back where? Where do I go from here? Back to Brett? The bar? How? What the hell will I tell them?”

“Most people who’ve been kidnapped, drugged, hit, and fucked by someone they hate would go right to the police.” And then he drags that heated gaze over to meet my confused one. “You can go to the police, if you want.”

“Because you’re untouchable? Because you have so many people on your debts and favors list they can’t get you? Because they’re afraid of you?”

“Come on, Syd. I’m one fucking guy.”

“One fucking guy.” I shake my head. “One dangerous, insane, out-of-control guy is more like it.”

He drops his fork on his plate with a sharp clang. “If you want to turn me in, then fucking do it. I’ve decided not to kill you, so—”

“Oh!” I laugh at that.

“—do whatever you want.”

I pour some syrup on my pancakes and we eat in silence after that. He finishes before me and leaves me sitting there as he cleans up his mess in the kitchen. “But if you stay,” he says, his muscled back moving as he wipes the griddle down, “I’ll cook you lunch too.”