Page 13 of Eye Candy

But just by a little.

“I’ll tell you what’s going on,” Kieran spoke, clearly unhappy. “Apparently it’s been decided by the local mafia that Laina needs one of their men guarding her.”

“The… the what?” Tessa sounded more alarmed, her brown-haired head whipping between my dad and Kieran. “Honey, tell me this is a mistake.” She didn’t want Mike here, either.

“It’s not. They apparently are missing someone too, and they’re hoping by putting him with Laina, they’ll find whoever it is.” My dad ran a hand along the side of his face. “It’s fine. It’s fine. That means you can take breaks, Kieran, have some time to yourself.”

“Like hell am I going to leave her with him.” Kieran flicked a thumb at Mike. “Lookat him. He’s a fucking giant. You really trust him to be alone with your daughter?”

It took my dad a while to say, “If Sylvester says he’s trustworthy, I trust him. Sylvester’s many things, but he’s not a liar. And from what it sounds like, the safety of girls is one of Lola’s top priorities, so I doubt she’d be okay with someone of a… more impure stature guarding Laina.”

“This is ridiculous.” Kieran couldn’t let it go. “We don’t need him. If her kidnapper tries to grab her again, I can get him, and I’ll pass along any information to Sylvester and Lola. We don’t need one of their men.”

As they argued back and forth, I let my gaze wander to the man in question. Mike stood there, unaffected by the arguing and bickering, his arms still folded over his thick chest. He wore a t-shirt and black pants, and I didn’t doubt he was packing somewhere. His hair was a brown color, cut short on the sides and left a little messy on top. His eyes were a light color, maybe a hazel, and his square jaw had the shadows of short stubble.His nose was perhaps a size too big, but maybe it just seemed that way because it was a little off-center, like it’d been broken sometime in his life. He looked to be a few years older than Kieran, maybe Tessa’s age.

I didn’t get a friendly vibe off him. I didn’t get any vibe off him. He was just sorta there, dwarfing everything and everyone in the room. If I went to stand directly beside him, I didn’t doubt I’d feel like a child again, like I still had some growing to do. In all my life, I didn’t think I’d ever seen a man so overwhelmingly large.

The nickname Big Mike made sense, as much as I hated it.

“Mike,” I spoke, breaking my silence and causing every pair of eyes in the room to land on me. I waited until his hazel eyes fixed on me to ask, “What do you think of all this?” This whole time, I hadn’t heard him utter a word.

A muscle in his jaw tensed. It was almost like he was trying to stay quiet, but I wanted to hear him speak. It was a long moment before he muttered, “I was given a job, so I’m going to do it. Whether or not any of you agree with Sylvester doesn’t matter.” His voice was low and gravelly, and yet he enunciated each word perfectly, putting emphasis on every single one. I had the feeling this man never said anything he didn’t mean. If ever there was a straightforward, no bullshit, cut to the point kind of guy, it was him.

Still, knowing I’d have not one but two shadows from now on aggravated me, so I rolled my eyes and huffed, “I’m going to my room.” It was as I turned and started to walk away that I heard Tessa comment on the state of my hair.

She didn’t like it, I assumed, based on her “I hope that’s a wig” comment.

When I got to my room, I shut the door and paced the length of it. It was only then that I remembered I’d never texted Kelly back, so I pulled out my phone. She wanted to see me. Today wouldn’t work; I was too riled up, but tomorrow…

Yeah, let’s do tomorrow. I wanted to go out and have some fun. Luckily for me, that’s exactly what Kelly was good at.

Chapter Six – Laina

I sat on a pink bed in a small room, the walls painted a bubblegum pink. My ankle was cold, chained to the foot of the bed so I couldn’t run. I wore pajamas, the same pajamas I’d been taken in. I’d drawn my legs up to my chest, bored out of my wits. I didn’t know how long it’d been, but it felt like years had passed.

Okay, more like a week, tops? Either way, my kidnapper visited me every single day, a few times. He brought me trays of food and took away the empty trays. He never showed his face to me, always wearing black, always wearing that devil mask.

I’d started to refer to him in my head as the Devil. It was easier than calling him my kidnapper each and every time I thought about him—which was a lot, a lot more than I would be willing to admit out loud.

The door to the room unlocked, and it creaked open. My eyes shifted, spotting the Devil standing there, holding onto adinner tray with what looked like mashed potatoes, beans, and some kind of meat, along with a small can of pop.

He wasn’t starving me, and he wasn’t hurting me. It was… the strangest thing. I’d thought he’d rape me, torture me, do things to me that would make me lose my mind, but he hadn’t laid a single finger on me, so I didn’t know what his game was.

It was the same thing every time. He came close, bent down, put the tray on the ground, and retrieved the one from earlier. When he did that, his eyes weren’t on me. It might be an opening, a tiny one. I had to try. I’d spent the last week accepting the current reality of my situation, but it was time to be proactive.

The Devil walked with a slow, measured pace. Though the mask on his face hid every aspect of it, I knew his eyes were on me as he approached. His hands wore the same black leather they always did, curled around the tray with an iron grip.

If I could get my hands on him, maybe pick up the old tray while he was setting down the new one, whack him upside the head, maybe I could knock him out or daze him long enough to search his pockets for the key to my shackle. An impossible plan that involved a lot of grasping at straws, a plan where every second would count, but I had to try.

I perched myself on the edge of my bed, staring at the mask on his face as he came closer. The old tray was less than a foot away on the floor, the used plate on top, along with an empty bottle of water. He never gave me utensils.

The Devil stopped three feet from my bed, his knees bending as he set the tray down. His head bent as he did so.

“Thank you,” I spoke, mostly to cover up the sound of my shackle moving as I slipped off my bed and landed barefoot on the concrete ground. I moved quickly after that, grabbing theused tray and bringing it toward his head. The plate and plastic bottle slid off the tray as it moved through the air.

But I was too slow, or maybe he’d been expecting it. Either way, his gloved hand curled around my wrist, stopping the tray from hitting him. He stood up, intimidating, so much taller than he’d been moments ago, bent over. His other hand lifted between us, all his fingers but one curling down. He made a tsk-tsk, no-no motion with that finger, cocking his head at me like it was nothing more than an obstinate child.

I dropped the tray, and it was only then that he released me. He pushed me back onto the bed, shaking his head at me. All this time, he refused to say a single word to me. He was silent as ever, and it infuriated me.

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