Page 23 of Captured Heart

“I shouldn’t have said that. I don’t know why I said that.”

He seems very upset about this, and I try to reassure him. “It’s okay. We were both just talking, sharing things that—”

“No, I don’tsharepersonal information.” He stands up. “Fuck, I can’t believe I told you all that.” He rubs a hand across his jaw, and in my opinion, the panic on his face is more than the situation warrants. “What the fuck was I thinking?”

The question is aimed at himself, but I still answer. “Alex, it’s really okay.”

“No, it’s not. Those are things no one should ever know about me.” He pauses for a moment. The warmth and affection I saw in his eyes just a few seconds ago has vanished and is replaced by that detached, unreadable look. “Listen, I’ve taken up more than an hour of your time. I’m sure you’re eager to get back to your books. I’m gonna go.” He turns, takes two steps, then turns back to face me again. “I’ll come by on Sunday. Two o’clock.”

I’m too stunned by the sudden outburst to reply, so I simply nod. And just like that, he’s gone, leaving me under the tree with a strange feeling in the pit of my stomach and more questions than answers.

5. Aleksandras

The gym is loud as hell today. Metal clanking. The sharp slap of sneakers against treadmill belts. Guys grunting like they’re carrying the weight of the world on their backs. None of it fazes me. My world is narrowed down to the solid rubber body of the punching bag in front of me. Each time my fist makes contact, the bag swings back and jerks forward like it’s taunting me, daring me to hit harder.

So, I do.

This is a mistake. Coming here was a mistake. I’ve already got a plan tomorrow to get into her house. And it’s a solid plan. More solid than the last one, and it doesn’t require me to spend another second with her until tomorrow. After what happened on Thursday, that’s what I should want. I said too much. I showed too much. She’s a mark, just an obstacle I have to work around to get to those files.

I throw another punch, harder this time, my knuckles burning under the wraps. I’m angry at myself because somewhere during that conversation I lost sight of who and what Katelyn Akiyama actually is to me.

Her soft voice, her warm demeanor, just her sheer innocence sucked me in, and I fucked up. I told things I’d never told anyone. She got me to open up in a way I’ve never done before. Even after replaying it in my head a million times, I still don’t know how I slipped up like that. There’s a calmness about her that’s so alluring, so disarming that I feel like I can be myself around her.

But I can’t be myself around her. Myself is a hardened criminal and I need to remind myself that I’m not here to fraternize. I’m here to do a job. After my misstep, I resolved to limit our interactions as much as possible.

And that worked just fine yesterday. I completely avoided her for the entire day. But see, the problem with tracking her location is that it’s pretty fucking hard to stay away from her when I know exactly where she isallthe time. Yesterday, I managed to control the urge and hold strong. But today, I caved like a cheap tent. I saw she was on her way over here and got straight into Morty’s truck.

I want to see her again. The urge is so strong it feels like a need.

Her presence is soothing, so different from the harshness I’ve known all my life. Both in and out of prison, I’ve been exposed to the worst kinds of men. Men who were cruel and merciless. I’ve witnessed brutality in its most callous and gruesome form.

Katelyn is the opposite of all that. Her lighthearted nature is an addictive elixir, something I want more of. And it’s so easy to get caught up in it, inher. In a weird way, her naivety is intoxicating. She’s so untainted, so oblivious to the evil lurking in this world, and being around her makes me wish I was as blissfully unaware as she is.

Fuck, she’s messing with my head in the worst way.

The punching bag jerks again as I land another hit, sweat dripping from my brow. I rip off my T-shirt, using it to wipe the perspiration from my face before tossing it on the floor. This chick is an unnecessary distraction. What happened on Thursday can’t happen again. That kind of sloppiness will land me right back in jail.

I know this, and I know full well that avoiding her until tomorrow is what’s best right now. Yet here I am, waiting for her to come through those doors.

And then she does.

Katelyn walks in, oblivious to the fact that my entire body tenses at the sight of her. She doesn’t even look my way and heads straight for the locker rooms, her water bottle dangling from one hand. For a second, I think about leaving. I could still walk out, pretend I didn’t see her, stick to the plan.

But I don’t move.

She comes back out, dressed in leggings and a tank top. It’s plain, barely revealing any skin, but it shapes every curve in the most enticing way. One look at her, and I give in without a fight.

“Hey, Rebel,” I call out as she heads toward the leg machines.

She stops mid-stride and turns to look up at me but doesn’t greet me back.

I walk to the edge of the ring, resting my forearms on the top rope. “I see you’re throwing caution to the wind again. Don’t you usually only come to the gym at five?”

She crosses her arms and glares at me, still not offering one word in response.

“You mad?”

“Sort of. And we’re not kids, so I’m not going to pretend like you didn’t run off on me on Thursday just to make this conversation less awkward. Why did you freak out and leave so abruptly?”

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