Page 99 of A Captive Situation

“We were eighteen. Young.”

I did the math in my head, and I wasn’t a math person. My eyes got big, so big. “You’re thirty-five?”

His eyes narrowed. “Yeah . . .”

I was a cougar. A total cougar. “I’m older than you.”

I’d never been the older woman.

I was now the older woman.

I didn’t know how I felt about this. “I’m like your sugar mama.”

A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. “You’re a year older than me. And this is not a sugar-mama situation.”

Okay. We were back to being serious. I told my inner cougar to take a nap. Scooting to his side, I moved so I was facing him, my legs crossed in front of me. It gave me some breathing room, but Jake sat up and pulled me onto his lap, straddling him. His back was against the headboard, and his hands fell to my thighs, tracing up and down.

He didn’t just have a son. I noted, “You have a young adult.”

“Tab and I were high school sweethearts. We tried. Or I tried. We got married at the courthouse, but it was over almost before it ever got started. Her family was pissed about the marriage. They didn’t approve of my family.”

“They knew about your family’s business?”

His mouth tugged up in a half-hearted grin. With the lines under his eyes and the shadows in them, the half grin looked sad. “Everyone did where we lived. My family likes to operate out of Maine because it’s easy to be remote up there. They don’t use the usual protection tax, stuff like that. The locals are left alone and in return they leave us alone. My family specializes in transportation and storage. Some of our warehouses have things a lot of governments would love to get their hands on, but it’s kept under wraps.”

“What sort of things?” I traced my hands down his chest, lingering on his stomach. His muscles shifted under my touch, but he didn’t seem to notice. He was frowning at my shoulder, lost in thought.

“Things I don’t want to tell you. Things used in wars. Other things.” The shadows doubled in his gaze.

My stomach dipped.

He smoothed a hand back up the side of my thigh, his fingers sinking into my skin. “Tab was ...” He hesitated, a shadow flitting over his face. “Tab was my escape. I was still—Jesus. I have to tell you all of it to make you understand.”

The air grew thick. Tense.

I quieted, knowing this was important. I reached for his hand.

He didn’t look at me, instead focusing on our hands. “First time I killed someone, I was twelve.”

Pain sliced through me.

He continued, his voice hoarse, “My dad found out when I was fourteen, and he didn’t agree with the direction my uncles wanted me to go with the business.”

“The Mafia business?”

His eyes lifted, haunted. “I was being trained to be their personal assassin. Not just their assassin, but one that they could sell my services for others.”

My heart shattered.

“When my dad found out, he left the family business.” He was so rigid. “I didn’t, though.”

“What? How?”

“With my family leaving the business, they were pissed. They exiled them, effectively cutting them off from everything. I could see it was hurting my mom not to be able to talk to my other aunts. Some of them were close. So I went to my uncle and struck a deal. I’d continue my services if they’d ease up on some of the restrictions.”

“Your dad didn’t know?”

“No. It got better, a little bit. But I needed a cover for why I was leaving the house all the time. Tab and I started dating early in high school. She didn’t know what was going on. She just knew I did something for my family off the books and thought it was cool. Weweredating, but I mostly used her as a cover in the beginning. After a bit, it grew more real. She became my escape in a lot of ways. I hated lying to my parents. I hated doing what my uncles were making me do, but my mom was happy. Then ... Tab got pregnant and I did what I had to do.”

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