I step on the gas. She doesn’t get a reward for doing what I asked her to do five minutes after I asked it.
She sighs and grips the seatbelt now firmly across her chest.
Siren is feisty. She’s not like any other woman I’ve met. She was the only woman out of a dozen to completely own the stage, to not let us take control of her.
She’s the only woman I’ve ever met who doesn’t want me for my money, protection, or access to my hotter, richer best friends.
Because you bought her, you idiot. That’s the only reason she’s in this car. A woman like her wouldn’t look twice at a man like me. I have money sure, but not enough to please her. I don’t have any power. I work for a powerful man. I protect. I risk my life for others. I could never fully be hers.
“What’s your last name, Siren?” I ask.
She gives me the finger, her signature move.
“Where are you from? Do you live on the island?”
She raises her eyebrows at me. “You really think I’m going to answer your questions?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because if you don’t, there will be consequences.”
She rolls her eyes. “I’m not afraid of your consequences. We aren’t always going to be in a car where you can just pick up speed to get me to do what you want.”
“No, but I can think of other ways to get you to do what I want.” My eyes threaten her with danger, but I would never physically hurt her. I’ve never hit a woman, and I don’t plan on doing it now. But Siren doesn’t know that. And right now, I need her terrified. I need her to stop resisting and let me save her.
She goes quiet.
Good, maybe my threat worked.
“Are you married?” I ask, hoping to god she isn’t.
Wait…what? Why do I care if she’s married? If she is, it would be easier for me, not harder. I could just drop her off with her husband. She would become his problem to take care of, no longer my concern.
“You’ve never done this before, have you?” Her eyes focus on me.
I swallow hard but don’t answer.
She smiles. “What is your full name, Zeke?”
I clench my jaw.
“Where are you from?” she asks.
“Are you married?” she asks.
She leans back, smiling smugly, thinking she’s won.
She has.
But she won’t again.
I turn the wheel hard, driving hard into a small ditch on the side of the road.
She squeals crazily with the fear of death in her eyes.
Then suddenly, we stop as I slam on the breaks.
“You’re insane,” she pants, holding her hand over her heart as she tries to catch her breath.
I grab her wrist, needing her to look at me, needing her to take me seriously.
Of course, there’s a fucking spark at our touch.
We both stare down at the surge going back and forth between our skin. How is it that the first woman I’ve felt butterflies for is also a woman I can’t have? I fucking bought her, even if I save her, even if I get her to freedom eventually, she won’t forgive me for this. She’ll always view me as an asshole.
And I will have to treat her like one until I can find a way to set her free. I don’t have a choice. Julian will be watching my every move. And he’ll kill us both if he thinks we aren’t on his side.
But it doesn’t stop my heart from doing fucking somersaults in my chest at her touch. Maybe when I set her free, I could seduce her? I could court her? Make her fall for me by bringing her flowers, chocolates, do all the romantic things I used to be good at? Maybe that would be enough for us to have a chance?
I lean in close, until I’m all but kissing her. She licks her lips in anticipation of a kiss that will never come. I’m in control here, not her. She doesn’t get to decide my actions. I give a command; she follows it. Or there will be consequences.
“What is your last name?” I ask, my voice booming so loudly it even scares even me.
“Martinez.”
“Where are you from?”
“Costa Rica.”
“Are you married?”
She holds up her left hand. There is no ring or tan line where one used to sit. She’s not married.
I release my grip, and we both take a deep breath, like it’s a race to get all the oxygen we can before the other takes all of it.
I stare at her. Consuming all of the information she gave me. Siren Martinez. From Costa Rica, not here. She’s not married.
That last fact warms my cold heart more than it should. She’s not married, but that doesn’t really make her yours. I don’t have a real claim on her. What I have is temporary. All we have is chemistry. And fucked up debts to each other. And half-truths and lies.
We could never have a real relationship even after all of this is over.
Even though she isn’t married, I’m sure she has a life waiting for her in Costa Rica.
And I have a life waiting for me in Miami.
We would never work.
I grip the steering wheel again; my point made—if she doesn’t follow my command, there will be consequences. This one was simple. I scared the shit out of her with just my voice. I may not hit her, but I can find other consequences for her not bending to my will.
She doesn’t know that I won’t physically hurt her, but she’s a smart woman. She will quickly figure it out if I’m not careful, and then she will try to run. And if she runs, Julian could find her before I do. And he’s a real monster. The kind that will hit a woman. The kind who will rape her. Torture her. Kill her.
My eyes water thinking about any man hurting her. I don’t know how I’ve already grown attached to her. Was it because she saved me? Did I fall in love with the sound of her voice when she sang to me? Her skin when she touched me? Did I grow soft watching her on stage? Or was it this moment watching her do everything to defy me that made me fall for her?
I don’t know. But my heart definitely has a soft spot for her. That’s my problem. I let people in too easily. And then I get fucking hurt. But Siren is innocent. She has a big heart. She wouldn’t have saved me in the ocean if she was a cold criminal. I owe her my life.
When I get to my house, I’ll get to work on debugging it, so I can eventually tell Siren the truth and form a plan to get her off this island—to get us both off this island. But until then, I will have to make Siren fear me. Fear will keep her weak, malleable. Fear will break her spirit. Every time she fears me, it will hurt. But it’s the only way to protect her.
9
Siren
Zeke turns the car down a familiar road. The last road on the island I want to be on. A road I’ve traversed before. A road that became my most painful mistake. A road that led me to be sold as a sex slave.
I shift uncomfortably in my seat as the seat belt constricts across my body. I can’t breathe. I can’t go back. Not here…
I squeeze my eyes shut, hoping to block out the impending panic attack. But it’s too late to stop it. The panic lives in me now.
“Siren?”
Zeke’s voice breaks through the fog. It’s so calming and assuring. His voice can stop the panic; his alone has that kind of power.