Page 19 of Darkness

“Eat your food, Eva.”

Anxiety rolls through me. “Why? What’s going to happen to me?”

He jerks his head back. “Nothing. I want you to be healthy. You don’t need to starve yourself in here for no good reason. You don’t like the Cuban sandwich, I’ll get you something else.”

My stomach growls again as I peer down at the meal begging to be eaten. I lick my lips, dying to take a bite. My hands instinctively move to the sandwich, picking it up. A sliver of mustard slides down my pinky, but it doesn’t bother me as I bite down right where Nycto took the first bite.

The ham, pork, and Swiss cheese taste like heaven. As I chew, the tang of a pickle tingles on my taste buds.

Nycto smiles. “There… wasn’t so hard, was it?”

I swallow, then take another bite right away. I knew I was hungry, but now I’ve had a bite, I’m starved. “This is delicious,” I mumble, my mouth completely full. Crumbs of Cuban bread fall from the corners of my mouth as I talk.

Nycto truly has the face of an angel but the aura of the devil himself. He smirks a half smile. “Trixie’s training at culinary school, so we get all her fancy dishes here. Not that a Cuban sandwich is fancy, but she knows how to make them real good.”

I can’t help but wonder who this Trixie is.

Is she his sister? His girlfriend?

Will she help me escape?

Hell, I know nothing about Nycto or the other people here. Wherever here is.

Nycto slides a little closer. “Trixie’s our head club girl. She’s been here since she was sixteen, and we’re paying for her to go to culinary school. She wants to open her own restaurant one day. With us helping her, she’ll be able to achieve that goal.”

Taking a sip of my milkshake—a delicious, syrupy chocolate—I let his words sink in.

The club girl is here. He’s a biker. I must be at his clubhouse.

“Is this clubhouse big?” I ask, attempting to ask the right questions to try and figure out where I am.

He cracks his neck to the side. “Yes, Eva, you’re at my clubhouse, but I’m not going to give you specifics. Not yet.”

I take the last bite of my sandwich, thinking my questions through thoroughly. “Will I be confined to your room for the rest of my life… however long that may be?”

His eyes widen, almost like he hasn’t thought that far ahead. He slides the tray to the other side of the bed, shifting to sit right in front of me. His eyes hold mine, and my stomach flutters. “I have to figure some shit out. I told people you drowned. They believe you’re dead. It’s better if they keep thinking that for now.”

My chest squeezes at the thought of being kept in here indefinitely. “Nycto, I’ve been in here for hours. I’m already going stir-crazy. I’m a dance instructor. I move around… it’s what I do. How am I supposed to stay cooped up in here for the next seventy years, give or take?”

“I know. Trust me, I know. And you won’t. We’ll find a workaround. I also have to trust you won’t go running off. If anyone sees you, it not only puts your life in danger but the lives of everyone at my club. I can’t have that.”

“Can’t have your club in danger because of me.” I roll my eyes.

“No, chiquita, the club is in danger because of me. Because I kept you, didn’t pass you on. Now, it’s my job to make sure all the moving parts don’t turn into a wheel of torture. If word gets out that I have you, it’s not going to be pretty. For this club, and especially for you, because the man who was selling you will come back. I don’t want that life for you. You’re better than that. It’s the whole reason we’re in this mess.”

My pulse increases as I stare at him. “Because you didn’t want me to be sold?”

“Exactly.”

The atmosphere in the air buzzes, surging with adrenaline, popping with electricity while our eyes remain locked, my breathing rushed and sharp. “I still don’t understand why you chose me. Out of everyone.”

Nycto leans forward, the smell of leather, sandalwood, motor oil, and cigarettes hitting me full-force. My skin prickles as his hand caresses the side of my face.

I should back away.

I should be terrified.

But something about him seems genuine.

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