Page 3 of Captive

"Me? I'm talking about Maddox." I was drugged out of my mind but that moment in time was still etched in my memory like a carving in a marble statue, hard and permanent. "I felt lost. I felt it through every bone in mybody."

Dr. Hoffman rubs her templenow.

I smile. "Guess it's catching." I wonder if she goes to a therapist herself. Or maybe beer and Gilmore Girls are all she needs to recharge for her next workday.

Hoffman nods and drops her hand quickly. "Yes, it seems so. One last question that I hope will give us a place to start next time we meet." She reads her notes and then peers up at me. "You volunteered for a highly dangerous undercover assignment. Up until that time, you and your partner had won several medals for bringing down a large drug cartel along with three of the top local drug dealers. You were busy on the streets. What was it that prompted you to go undercover on the Lace Underground stingoperation?"

The day I volunteered seems so long ago, as if an eternity has passed since then. But it is still clear and sharp in my chest. "Disappointment compounded by a mega dose ofheartbreak."

Hoffman waits patiently for me to elaborate but the pain in my head says we are done. She reads my expression and jots down a few notes before smiling up atme.

"Disappointment and heartbreak. That's where we'll start next time. Good session,Angie."

2

Angie

Six monthsearlier

Itappedthe pine tree shaped air freshener dangling from the rearview. "Did I ever tell you about my Uncle Carl's dairy farm?" I squeeze another pack of hot sauce onto my burrito and toss the squished package into the bag at myfeet.

Maddox takes a gargantuan bite of his burrito and licks sour cream off the side of his thumb. His green eyes flash my direction as his unshaven jaw slides back and forth to chew. He uses the pause between bites to suck hard on hisstraw.

"I guess not then," I continue."Carl had about five hundred head of cattle on his farm. When the weather conditions were just right, a little rain followed by a good breeze, the stench from Uncle Carl's farm could be smelled through the entirevalley."

Maddox struggles again to pull a sip of cola from the cup. I grab my cup and hand it to him just a little too forcefully. He drains away two inches of my soda and hands it back. "Why the hell are you talking about your uncle's dairyfarm?"

"Because the smell in this car reminds me of acres and acres of cow shit." I toss the rest of my burrito into the bag and wipe my hands on the last napkin. I tap the air freshener again. "Is this the same little tree you hung two years ago after that junkie puked in thebackseat?"

"Yup. Those things last three or fouryears."

"Just going to go out on a limb here, because I'm no car freshener expert," I qualify, "but I think you're wrong about the four year shelflife."

"If you want to continue the stakeout outside on that hot sidewalk go right ahead. And that manure smell is your fault. You're the one who swung yourself over the pasture fence to chase that two-bit carthief."

"I didn't see the pile of shit on the other side. I had to toss those running shoes, by the way. Couldn't get the smell out. But even racing after the creep with my shoes clumped in cow pie, I got the guy. No thanks to mypartner."

"Told you, I pulled a hamstring at the gym that morning." With the napkins gone, Maddox uses the edge of the food bag to wipe his mouth. He leans his head back against the seat and keeps an eye on the street in front of us. His long black eyelashes flutter down for a second, covering his extraordinary, unearthly greeneyes.

I kick my fist out at his arm. "Don't fall asleep now. Norville said the connection was sometime this morning. It's nearly twelve, which means morning is almost over." Norville, a strung-out junkie who knows everything going on within a fifty mile radius, is our go-to snitch for drugtransactions.

"I'm not sleeping," he says without opening his eyes. "I'm resting my brain." I take the opportunity to marvel at his perfectly chiseled facial features, straight nose, strong jaw and a chin with a wickedly hot cleft. It was unfair how mother nature put so much beauty into one human. But Maddox didn't ever seem to notice that conversations stopped when his six foot plus frame stepped into a crowded room. He didn't seem to notice the heads turning, both sexes, when we walked into a restaurant or even into abust.

My eyes sweep up to the sun visor, and I secretly sneer at Tiffany's picture. Maddox clipped it there at her insistence so she could be his 'guardian angel'. Tiff, as he lovingly calls her, has satiny gold hair and large blue eyes. Even her skin is like cream. And in case I didn't know, after being reminded a hundred million times by my pride-filled partner, Tiff is going to be a dentist. Maybe her patients can call her Dr.Tiff.

I wipe my sunglasses on the end of my t-shirt and lift them, only to find that they are greasier than when I started. I resort to the hot breath method of lens cleaning which makes them only slightly better. My bottom scoots across the vinyl seat and I slumpback.

"Norville needs to be more specific with his insider info. Getting details from him is like dealing with the cable company when they tell you the service guy is coming sometime between Monday and Thursday." Maddox sounds tired, and I angrily wonder if he and Tiffany were up late lastnight.

He sits up and shakes the sedan with his large frame. His shoulders inch past the seat on each side and he has to push the seat clear back to get his long legs under thedash.

Maddox turns the ignition to accessory and the radio pops on. The volume is low, but the speakers suck so it sounds better. The Rolling Stones'Angiecreaks through the crummy speakers. Maddox reaches for the volume. "Hey, Ten, here's your song." He starts to croon along with Jagger and damn, if he doesn't look and sound beautiful doingit.

Hearing Maddox sing my name scratches at my heart. My hand shoots forward and I turn it off. He sings a few more notes before noticing that Mick has fallen silent. "Uh, I was singing to that. And I was sounding pretty fucking good too. Your mom once told me I sound just likeMick."

I rest my head back against the seat. "My mom, an interminable flirt, also tells the mailman he looks like GeorgeClooney."

"Well, doeshe?"

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