Hunted by the Feral Alpha Page 16
The waitress started to come around the counter and was heading toward them.
“Be good,” he murmured to Sophia. “Don’t make me lock you in the trunk.”
“What can I get you?” the waitress asked before she’d even gotten all the way to the table, her voice bored.
Hunt smiled wide, going for the charm that almost always worked on middle-aged women. He wanted her attention on him, not Sophia. “I’ll have the eggs Benedict with a large coffee.”
The waitress automatically smiled back. She briefly glanced at Sophia, obviously reluctant to look away from him. “What about you?”
Sophia hadn’t even bothered to open her menu, still staring down at the hands still clenched in her lap.
The waitress’s smile faltered and she blinked a couple of times, an expression of suspicion moving across her features. He knew what she was thinking: that Sophia was acting like a battered housewife or something else equally suspicious.
He quickly cut in. “She’ll have a waffle and orange juice. Thanks.”
The waitress eyed them for another moment, but eventually nodded and turned away. He blew out a slight breath that he didn’t realize he was holding.
“I think we have different ideas about what it means to be good,” he murmured to Sophia once the waitress was out of earshot.
She shifted away from him. “I hate waffles.”
“Bullshit. Nobody hates waffles.”
Sophia crossed her arms over her chest. “Well, I do.”
“Fine, you can have my eggs.”
She shifted in the seat to look at him, her dark eyes piercing. “Why are you doing this?”
Hunt picked up the butter knife and balanced it between two fingers. “What are you talking about?”
“This.” Her gesture encompassed the bored waitress and the woman with the kid who was just getting up to leave. “What kind of kidnapper brings his victim to a public place? Why aren’t you worried that I’ll scream for help?”
He shrugged, even as he warily noted the almost manic look on her face. “Why aren’t you screaming for help?”
“Because I’m just as stupid as you are.” Her gaze moved over the diner, lingering on the man frying burgers on the grill and the corded phone hanging on the wall behind the register. “I can still do it, you know.
If she wanted to sound the alarm, she’d already have done it, not just threaten. Knowing that didn’t stop the slight increase in his heart rate. “Why haven’t you then, I wonder?”
Her fingers picked nervously at the edge of the tablecloth, but she didn’t answer. He wondered if she even noticed the movement.
“Maybe it’s because you don’t want to see me go to prison, even after everything I’ve done to you. Maybe you care what happens to me.”
“Is that what this is?” she asked, voice harsh. “Is this how you prove that you’ve completely fucked my head up? Would that make you feel good if you managed to brainwash me into caring what happens to you? Victimize me in just one more way?”
Hunt shrugged, even as he turned her words over in his head. Did she care about him? “I just wanted to eat.”
“Or maybe this is really about you. Maybe you just want to put off getting to that storage unit because that’s where this road ends, whether you find what you’re looking for or not.” She turned back to look at him, her gaze penetrating. “Maybe you’re the one who cares about me.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You want this to end about as much as I do.”
They stared at each other.
Before either of them could break the tense silence, their waitress returned with the plates of food and slid them onto the table. Sophia picked up her fork and mechanically began to eat. He quickly thanked the waitress and did the same. The sooner they got out of there, the better.
The energy was back between them, like a rope of dark light connecting them to each other. Or maybe it never left and he’d just been working hard to ignore it.
Because it wasn’t just impossible for him to have her. He might just have to destroy her.
Chapter Sixteen
Sophia was sure they were being followed.
It was impossible to be absolutely positive, but she’d had this weird feeling since they left the diner. She had noticed this black car in the parking lot: late model and too shiny to have spent much time on dusty Tennessee back roads. It was nicer than anything somebody working at that diner would drive. She thought maybe it belonged to the woman with the toddler, but it was still there after she had left.
And now that same car, or one that looked remarkably similar, had been following them for the last hour.
She thought about telling Hunt, assuming he hadn’t already noticed for himself. But she was pretty committed to the silent treatment she’d been giving him since they’d finished eating. She didn’t want to break it just because she was imagining things.
Of course, she might not be imagining things.
But that could be a good thing, right? A dark, unmarked vehicle that was suspiciously out of place? It was probably undercover FBI agents, discreetly tailing them until they could take Hunt down and rescue her.
That should be a relief, so why did she feel so uneasy?
It could also be his friends following behind them. Maybe that was why he felt so comfortable taking her into that diner, because he knew his friends were outside to catch her if she tried to make a run for it.
It was barely past dawn. Shoots of pale light trailed across the horizon. But the world out there wasn’t something that she was part of anymore. It was as if her entire life had narrowed down to the confines of this car and the need to keep barreling forward.
Why hadn’t she tried to get help?
The question gnawed at her, especially because he’d used it to mock her. It wasn’t because she cared about him. How could she? He wasn’t just some cute guy that she’d run into at the bookstore, no matter how good he looked. He was her kidnapper and her torturer.
No, it couldn’t be that. Maybe part of her wanted to see this through as much as he did. Maybe she had to prove, both to him and herself, that the terrible accusations he had leveled against her father were false. There was nothing to be found in that storage locker and she wanted to see Hunt’s face when he figured that out.
And her struggle didn’t have anything to do with the sex. Even though the memory of his hands on her skin was so visceral that it only took a stray thought to take her fully back to that moment. It wasn’t about the fact that a girl only got one real first time, and hers had been with him.
But she couldn’t stop thinking about her words to him, either. She had no idea what the hell he was thinking.
Maybe you care about me, too.
The sound of her own words in her head made her cringe. It didn’t matter if there was any truth at all to those words, because ultimately they had to face the inevitable. Regardless of what they did or didn’t feel, they were going to have to let each other go. This whole thing could only end in one way.
They passed a tiny sign letting them know that Ashland City was two miles away.
“How much farther?” Hunt asked.
Sophia hesitated before answering. It was the first direct question that he’d asked since they got back in the car. She’d really been enjoying pretending that he didn’t exist.
“Turn right here,” she said quickly, just as he was about to pass the next road.
“Shit, really?”
Tires screeched and she had to hold onto the side of the door as the car made a too-sharp turn. She watched the side mirror to see if the black car followed, but it continued past them down the main road without so much as braking. She let out a little sigh, but couldn’t decide if she was relieved or concerned. It wasn’t his friends, but it also wasn’t someone who might help her.
“Sorry, I made a mistake.” She kept her voice very carefully neutral and stared out the window so he couldn’t see her face. “It’s the next turn.”
Sophia ignored that, acting like the line of trees flying by was the most fascinating thing in the world.
He made a rude noise and she heard the creak of leather as his hands tightened on the steering wheel.
Frustrated? she wanted to ask. Good, because that made two of them.
Hunt took the next turn without another word and she suppressed a spurt of satisfaction. She liked the fact that she could get under his skin, especially since he had spent so much time getting under hers.
If she remembered correctly, the storage unit was just off the main road that led into town. She had only been there a handful of times with her father. He’d never fully explained why they had a storage unit so far from where they lived—something about the rates being cheaper out here. It wasn’t like it really mattered where he kept a bunch of old furniture and useless family heirlooms. It was just a place to put anything that reminded him of her mother because he didn’t have the heart to destroy it.
And what was Hunt going to do when he figured out there was nothing here but the dusty remains of a life only half lived?
The most obvious answer was that he would kill her. Her little ploy back at the hotel room resulted in her making a fool of herself. He wasn’t going to forget about his quest for vengeance just because the sex was good.
We-Store-It loomed in the distance. It was one of those big industrial places with thousands of storage units, ranging in size from a closet to something big enough to roll a semi-truck through. Her father’s unit was somewhere in the middle, about the size of a large bedroom.
“This the place?” Hunt asked.
“No, we’re looking for the other gigantic storage place down the road.” She couldn’t stop the sarcastic response; maybe it was just an involuntary reaction to the sudden burst of fear. “Don’t you know? Ashland City is the storage unit capital of Tennessee.”
To her surprise, he laughed. “I like you better angry than moping.”
She glared at him. “I wasn’t moping.”
“If you say so, baby.”
The endearment sent a little frisson of pleasure through her that just made her angrier. “I hate you.”
“No, you don’t.” He pulled up to the gated entrance of the complex. A little speaker box and keypad was on a podium to the side. “What’s the code?”
It was tempting to tell him that she had no idea, but then she remembered his words from before.
You want this to end about as much I do.
“5-18-19-78.”
He punched in the code. A short alarm bell sounded and then the gate began to open. She had the ridiculous thought that they were about to pass through the gates of hell. Stop being stupid, she reminded herself. Stupidity was going to get her killed.
“Is that number special?”
Sophia didn’t know what made him ask, maybe because it was something that she still remembered after years and years. “My mother’s birthday.”
“That makes sense.” The gate continued to slowly swing open, and he impatiently eased the car forward. “She died about eight years ago?”
“Ten,” she replied, shortly.
“Breast cancer, right?”
That was the official story. She drummed her fingers impatiently against her knee. “If you already know then why are you asking?”
He shrugged. “Just making small talk. I figure it’s better than the silent treatment, or whatever it is we were doing before.”
“Your idea of small talk sucks.” She turned to face him, giving him the full force of every contradictory emotion that she was feeling in that moment. “Yes, my mother died of breast cancer when I was twelve, which was around the time that my father decided to make his career the most important thing in his life. He couldn’t handle it. He took every reminder of her, everything they bought or owned together and locked it away because all he wanted to do was forget. He won’t even come out here. My stepmother has no idea that this storage unit even exists. All the physical reminders of my mom are stored here and you’re about to tear it all apart searching for something that doesn’t even exist!”
Hunt stared at her and she realized that she was breathing too hard. Her voice was loud enough that it was probably pretty close to yelling.
But despite whatever response she expected to her outburst, all he did was shrug.
“Interesting,” he said and pulled the car forward. “Do you remember the unit number, too?”
“1469.”
Maybe he was just immune to human suffering, but Hunt didn’t try to comfort her the way that literally any other human being on the planet would. Part of her found that repulsive, but another remembered that now was not the time to fall apart at the memory of her dead mother. In his own twisted way, maybe he was doing her a favor by being so callous.
She wondered how he would react if she told him the whole story, not just the one that got written up in the obituary. Would he be shocked, or appalled or intrigued? Or worse, would he give her that mocking smile and say the words that she’d dreaded hearing for most of her life: she sounds just like you.
They rolled past rows and rows of storage units. It was like being inside of an abandoned but perfectly orderly city. Dawn had firmly broken, but it was still too early for anyone else to be here. The main office of the complex probably wouldn’t be open for at least a few more hours. She didn’t ask what Hunt was planning to do if this place didn’t have twenty-four-hour access.
Her family’s unit was toward the end of a row, nearest to the tall wrought-iron fence that surrounded the property. There was a small clearing on the other side that led into a stand of trees. Even if she wanted to run, there wasn’t anywhere else to go.
Hunt stopped the car in front of the unit. The numbers printed on the door were faded and desperately in need of repainting.
“I’m guessing it’s too much to ask if you’ve got the keys,” he said.
She glared at him. “Where, hidden up my ass?”
“No.” He shook his head and got out of the car. “I’ve already checked there.”
“Fuck you.”
“You’re just setting ‘em up like bowling pins, baby.” He shut the door and walked around to the trunk. By the time she followed him out, he already had a pair of bolt cutters in his hands.
She winced as he set them to the lock and snapped easily through the metal. She couldn’t help thinking about what those things could do to something different, like human flesh and bone. Maybe he was right; she hadn’t learned yet what real torture was.
And the more time that she spent with him, the more closely she was pulled toward the darkness.
Hunt dropped the bolt cutters to the ground and pulled up the sliding door of the storage unit. Metal creaked against metal with a loud shrieking sound, making her wince. A shower of rust rained down on his head and he brushed it away. It had probably been years since anyone opened this place up.
Light shone into the storage unit as he lifted the door completely. Furniture shapes covered in old sheets, dozens of cardboard boxes, and other miscellaneous items were neatly laid out. The cardboard box closet to her had a label on it that was so faded and curled up that it was no longer legible.
But she recognized her dead mother’s handwriting.
“We don’t have all day.” Hunt nodded toward the nearest stack of boxes. “Make yourself useful.”
“Do you even know what you’re looking for?” The air was thick and hot inside of the storage unit, making it feel like she couldn’t get enough oxygen. A thick layer of dust covered everything and crept down her throat to burn her lungs. “Besides the nonexistent needle in a very big haystack.”
An exasperated look crossed his face. “Official-looking documents, computer storage media, anything that looks like it doesn’t belong.”
She opened a box labeled Sophia’s Baby Pictures. “I promise you there’s nothing here.
”
“Then it shouldn’t matter to you if we look.” He pulled back a sheet, revealing a reproduction Louis XV chaise lounge. “Think of it as a nice trip down memory lane.”
“Memory lane is the last place I want to be, thanks.”
“You’re pretty bitter for someone so young.”
“Well, I’ve been through a lot for someone my age—or did you forget that you kidnapped and tortured me?”
“I haven’t forgotten anything, baby.” His piercing gaze sent a bolt of lightning through her.
Shivering, she turned away. It didn’t make sense how much he was able to get to her.
She pulled out a photo album and idly flipped through it. This one started with the day she was born and continued through her first birthday—photos of her being bathed naked in the sink, crying on Santa’s lap, and toothlessly grinning over a birthday cake with a huge number 1 printed on it.
Hunt went quiet while she continued to rifle through the boxes. There was absolutely nothing out of the ordinary in any of them, unless you considered ‘80s hairstyles to be cause for alarm.
“Is that her?”
Sophia jumped when Hunt spoke from right beside her shoulder, because she hadn’t heard him move in so close. She was holding a picture of her mother in her twenties, before Sophia was even born. He stared down at it for a long moment.
“My mom? Yeah.”
He took the heavy, silver frame from her and tilted it to better catch the light. “She’s beautiful. You look a lot like her.”
She felt a pang of emotion in her chest, pain, and no small amount of fear. “Everybody always said I was her little copy. She used to have us in matching outfits when I was really little.”
“How was it she died, again? Cancer?”
She cleared her throat. “Yeah, it was really aggressive. She died before my parents even publicly announced that she was sick.”
He immediately noticed her hesitation. “That’s it?”