He spoke to Jaxon? When? I’d only been taken last night!

“Jaxon came for me,” I stated quietly, looking down at my hands now. That was the only explanation.

“Yeah.”

Oh, Jaxon.

All I wanted was to see his face, to feel him wrapped around me. My chest constricted so painfully, I had to put my hand against it. Heartbreak all over again, and once again it was my fault. I wanted him. I wanted him so fucking badly, but I knew the choice had been right. I couldn’t be involved in the seediness of his gang, and yet now I was being forcefully thrown into another.

“I don’t want to be here, Remy,” I told him, meeting the darkness of his eyes once again. “I just want to go home. You can take me to Winthrop, can’t you?”

“No. This is where you belong.” His words, firm and resolute, were emotionless too. He looked away from me and got up, kicking away the garbage bag as he reached for the bags beside the door. He picked them all up and threw them roughly on the bed. I watched him closely, the way his brows furrowed together and his jaw tensed. Anger.

Still unsure of the way he handled his behavioural shifts, I quietly took the clothing bag, emptied it and dispersed all of the clothes over a part of the mattress. High-end tops and silky pyjamas and jeans that were a size too small – where had he found all of this?

When I looked back at him, he was already on his way to the door. Panic gripped me immediately. “Are you leaving?” I didn’t want to be alone in this room another minute.

“Go and shower,” he replied, back against me. “I’ll be settin’ the room up for you.”

He unlocked the door and left me. Why was he so bloody angry? What had I done?

Fuckin’ men, I thought bitterly while picking an outfit to wear. I grabbed a bag filled with shampoo, a razor, body wash, and an absurdly fluffy pink towel. At least I’d be in this prison looking clean and smelling fresh.

It’s the small things.

Three

I betrayed him. Promised him I’d stay. Bolted when I realized otherwise. Did it ever occur to me that perhaps there was an out to the way the Scorpions treated their women? Remy had said that Jaxon was second in command. Surely that yielded powers that might have exempted me from being tossed around like a prostitute without pay. This was hopeful Sara, trying her hardest to think positively.

He should have told me, goddammit! Should have come clean to me about what he was involved in. I sat down on the rough, uneven ground and watched the water disappear down the drain. Pitiful Sara emerged and was looking at the drain thinking, how fitting to watch my own life disappear, too, down the shit drain of life.

What were my options right now? Remy wasn’t going to let me go. Though his answer of keeping me out of that gang had appeared honourable, it didn’t make sense for him to get angry like that. There was something else, and I knew what it was. The way he looked at me, the fact he’d been looking after me all these years… The guy wanted me.

I tried so damn hard to remember his face at the bar all that time ago. Why had he even been there? There was keeping track of someone – something most would do from afar. Then there was watching someone at their work, and flirting, and feeling them provocatively.

I grimaced at the memory. Jaxon had watched all of it. Oh, fuck, had Remy known he was there? If he did—

“You alright?”

I jumped and hurriedly brought my knees to my chest. Remy was standing in the middle of the bathroom without a fucking care in the world. Had he no manners?!

“What are you doing?” I nearly yelled.

“I called you before, and you didn’t answer.”

“So you just decided to walk in on me?”

No pursed lips, no furrow of the brows, it seemed Remy had calmed down heaps. He was even hiding a closed lip smile by lazily itching his nose. He had a beautiful face under his light beard. Although the beard itself added a rough edge to his look, I imagined beneath it was a boyish beauty concealed in the hopes of emphasizing his ruggedness. His eyes were large and rimmed with thick black eyelashes, his lips were thin and blood red when he licked them. It was very distracting.

“You’ve been in here awhile. Just makin’ sure you’re okay,” he stated, still standing in the exact same spot a few feet away. Still staring, too. His eyes made no attempt at being discreet. They frisked me head to toe, though I doubt there was much to see except a wide eyed, messy haired girl curled in the corner.

“Well, I am.” The shittiness in my tone was evident, and I did my best to execute the best scowl possible. My attempt at intimidation failed spectacularly because now he was full on grinning. Smug bastard.

Then he took a few steps forward, until the water was lightly spraying him and leaned over. My body tensed and my eyes watched in shock as he… turned the water off. Cheeky fucker. He grabbed the fluffy towel and threw it at me.

“Hurry up, Birdy.” Without waiting for a response, he turned around and left.

I hugged the towel to my chest. Strange knots formed in the pit of my belly at his abrupt intrusion. The man was all kinds of weird. At least he isn’t angry anymore. No, he certainly wasn’t. The unreadable Remy was slowly unravelling before me.

I accomplished no breakthrough from that shower break. I was still confused as all hell. One thing I knew was if Remy had taken a liking to me, I wanted to use that to my advantage. Horrible and selfish thinking, I know, but I didn’t want to be inside these four walls a long time. If I could convince him to trust me…

Well, then what? Sigh. Back to the drawing board.

I put on a pair of abnormally tight jeans and a silky red top that had gold, stringy bead patterns on the collar. Weird gypsy shit. Honestly, where did he get these clothes from? Then I quickly finger combed through my hair and stepped out.

Remy was right. I’d been in that shower for a long time because while I was contemplating my life and how far in the shitter it was, Remy had transformed the room into a habitable comfort zone.

First thing I noticed was the television sitting on a sturdy brown stand and a shitload of movies stacked in the shelves of it. A small dresser had been placed alongside the same wall, and there were pony tails, combs and hair clips neatly set up on it. There was a bar fridge beside the bed and a stack of magazines on top of it.

Everything was in a state of organized chaos, with boxes neatly stacked to the side so the room still afforded some space. He was in the middle of setting up an oval mirror stand in the corner when I’d reappeared. I’m not sure how I was feeling; there were a bunch of strange and conflicting emotions. It was nice of him to consider my comfort, but having it so set up just further confirmed that I would be staying put in this room for some time. That was a bite of dread that sat in the pit of me.