Bound to Darkness (Doubeck Crime Family)

This time, she gives me a little glare of her own, pressing her thin mouth into a line. “Yes, Miss Smith? Can I help you with something?”

I roll my eyes, wanting to shake her. Does she know my name isn’t really Smith? I mean, does she care as long as she’s getting a regular paycheck? Does she know what kind of man Kai is? On that note, do I? I’ve been locked in this apartment for months and months. Kai comes and goes, and we speak briefly when he does, but we’ve never had a long conversation, never sat down to discuss the future. I can’t stay here forever, nor do I want to.

“Yes, I want to know if you’ve heard from Mr. Smith at all. It’s very urgent that I speak to him, and I don’t have a way to do that here in the apartment.”

This statement earns me another glare. Like I’m saying more than she wants to hear. Saying more than she wants to know. “I’m not sure what you mean, Miss Smith. I only hear from Mr. Smith when he needs to send me anything special for the grocery list. Otherwise, he sends me my paycheck every week, and that’s the extent of our conversations. I’m afraid I can’t help you.”

She shakes the sheet out hard enough that the edge almost clips me. As if it’s the punctuation to the end of our conversation.

I storm back out to the living room to look at the calendar one more time. Maybe I’m confused. It wouldn’t be the first time. And me being confused is far better than the routine being messed up or thinking that maybe Kai is never coming back and I’ll be stuck here for the rest of my life. Gently, I trail my finger over the red X like it might bite me if I press too hard. I’m definitely not confused. He should have already been here.

Instead of chasing Parker again, I take my usual seat on the stool at the countertop bar. I grab one of the apples from the bowl I just filled up, slide off the stool, rinse it, then return. While I chew, I consider what I’ll do if Kai doesn’t show up for another week. That would certainly mean he’s given up on me. Or what if something happened to him? That thought hadn’t crossed my mind because he always seems so…in control. But now that I think about it, what if he’s dead? Then no one will pay Parker, and I’ll be left here with no food and no way out.

I feel the beginnings of an anxiety spiral, as my therapist calls them, and start counting sensations to try to bring myself out. The crunch of the apple in my mouth, the taste of it. The grounding of my feet on the rungs of the stool. The cool air from the overhead fan on my shoulders. Tears stream down my cheeks now, but I dash them away. It was enough to pull me out, and I finish my apple and toss the core in the trash can under the sink.

God, why am I like this? Every time I let myself get too deep into my feelings, I spiral into a panic attack. No matter what the feelings are. Basically, the only time I can feel something without panicking is when I binge-watch soap operas on the TV and let myself cry it out. Hilary wasn’t supposed to die, yet…no panic attack then, just tears, a pile of tissues, and the cozy warm blanket I keep on the back of the small loveseat.

I creep up on the thought again … what if Kai is hurt? What if he needs help? I don’t have a way to contact anyone. He gave me a burner phone ages ago, but it’s a flip phone and only has his number programmed inside. Not to mention, it’s dead at the bottom of my nightstand. He specified that it can only be used in an emergency, and asking him if he’s okay doesn’t seem to align with his definition of an emergency.

At the very least, maybe I should plug that phone in just in case he needs to contact me. What if he already tried, and I’ve been sitting here worried for no reason?

I race into the bedroom, thankful Parker has already changed the bedding, and moved on to the bathroom. It takes me a minute to find the phone wedged under a couple of books. I hunt down the plug next and smile when it dings obnoxiously to let me know it’s turning on.

Once the little light comes on, I flip the silver phone open and stare at the screen. No messages.

Well, shit.

I hear Parker shuffle out of the bathroom and back into the kitchen. What if she’s my only chance at getting out of here? What if Kai isn’t returning, and I’ll need to escape on my own?

I rush out to the kitchen, and she stares at me warily while she gathers the trash and her purse.

“Wait, Parker, please. Take me with you.”

Just as I finish speaking, Kai steps around the entrance to the kitchen, his keys in his hand, leveling me with a look that chills my bones.

3

KAI

Parker casts a worried glance back and forth between Rose and me, but I give her a megawatt smile. It doesn’t reach my eyes because I just don’t have the energy in me today to make it, but the woman doesn’t seem to notice.

I fish the envelope out of my suit jacket and hand it to her. It’s fat, stuffed full of cash. “Take this. We won’t be needing your services anymore.”

Her eyes go wide. “Mr. Smith, I wasn’t going to take her anywhere, I swear.”

I try to sound reassuring, hoping I’m hitting the mark. “No, it’s not you, Parker. Miss Smith and I are going on a vacation of sorts. When we return, I’ll contact you to resume your services. But I didn’t want to leave you without income while we were away. So take this money, and you should be all set for a while.” I have no intention of bringing her back here, but she doesn’t need to know that. This is more cash than she’s probably seen at once in her lifetime, so she won’t ask questions, and that’s what I’m paying for.

She hikes her purse up her shoulder and gives me a nod. I watch her leave and then lock the door behind her.

Rose is still at the counter with her arms wrapped around herself. “You didn’t come last week. I thought something might have happened to you. That’s the only reason I asked her to take me with her.”

I scan her head to toe, from the sweats she’s cuffed at her ankles and wrists to the messy bun on top of her head. “When did you last take a shower?”

She stiffens. “Yesterday.”

“And when did you last wash your hair?”

This time, she throws her chin up. “Why do you care if my hair is clean or dirty? You don’t live here.”