Thumper (Cerberus MC)

“What’s your favorite food?”

I keep my focus just over his shoulder, refusing to give him my full attention. Am I being stubborn or acting like a bratty child because I want to see what he’d do if I act out?

I still haven’t decided when he leans even closer.

“Cara?”

“Can I go back downstairs now?”

This gets his attention, but I bet he’s going to refuse to answer, just like every other question before this one.

“Angel is busy,” he says as he stands.

“I’ll go straight down there,” I lie.

He scoffs, knowing I’ll arrow right out the front door before taking those steps alone without the threat of someone stopping me.

Then I remember what Lola told me about what happens to the women left behind when one escapes, and I could never risk them like that.

“You could take me.”

“I’m busy.”

I narrow my eyes at his back as he walks away.

He pulls his shirt over his head. I freeze, holding my breath and praying on some miracle that he has somehow forgotten I’m in the room. Maybe if I stay still enough, he won’t hurt me.

He doesn’t face me again as he drops to the floor in a plank and begins to do push-ups.

Is this another psychological game of his?

I keep my eyes on him because anticipating your opponent’s next move is vital for survival, right?

His back is corded with muscles, and other than a few scars, his skin is blank. No freckles. No hair. No tattoos even though I was taught as a teen growing up at Knight Salvation that criminals are covered in tattoos and body piercings, abusing their temples to spite the Lord.

It’s not a positive in his pro column by any means, despite the change in atmosphere around this place.

My eyes are glued to him so hard I notice the first drip of sweat that rolls from the center of his lower back to his oblique muscle before dripping onto the thin area rug beneath him.

“What are you doing?” I snap.

He does several more push-ups before rolling over onto his back and starting to do sit-ups.

“Exercising,” he answers, barely out of breath. “What’s your favorite food?”

I glare at him, refusing to answer.

“I answered one of your questions. Now answer mine.”

“Why are you fucking with my head?” He doesn’t bother to pause his sit-ups, and I have to look away before I get distracted. “Either you’re going to rape me or sell me to someone who’s going to do the same. My favorite food is inconsequential to you.”

He pops up off the floor so fast, a gasp flies from my lips, but he doesn’t come in my direction, rather he circles around to his desk, hitting a few keys.

“Cara Gibson.”

Those two words are the only thing he needs to say to have my undivided attention. I didn’t give him my real last name. When I completed the paperwork that first day, I lied and gave them my father’s last name. Holman.

Javier looks over his shoulder at me, in what looks like disappointment before turning his attention back to the computer screen.

“Twenty-four years old. Originally from a small community just south of San Francisco. Mother, Jena, married a cult leader nine years ago and moved her two daughters to the Knight Salvation Ranch. Fuck, what is it about California and goddamned cults? When was the last time you talked to April? Do you still keep in contact with her, or did you completely cut ties when you took off seven years ago?”

My eyes well with tears, the threat of them burning in my sinus cavities.

He prowls toward me, but still the evil look I expect from a man about to hurt someone is absent, and I consider this is another one of his tricks.

I stand before he can reach me, hoping it’ll give me an advantage, and then breathe a sigh of relief when the knock hits his office door from the hallway.

Javier doesn’t put distance between us though. He grabs me, pulling my back to his front, and I stop breathing.

“Be quiet,” he whispers in my ear. “Come in!”

Lupe steps inside, her eyes widening at the sight of us. She always retrieves the dishes, but I’m always on the sofa and Javier is across the room near his desk.

I don’t recall a time before now that he’s touched me, and even though he has every advantage, he doesn’t press his body against mine, threatening me with his power without words.

Lupe gives him a quick nod before shuffling out of the room. The door snaps closed behind her. I didn’t realize just how close Javier’s hand was to my breast until it falls away.

He takes several steps away, running his hands over the top of his head as I stare at his naked back. Bending at the waist, he takes several long breaths, giving me the opportunity to glance toward the door. Is he distracted enough that I could get away?