Page 15 of Capture
7
He looms over me like a monster eyeing his prey, completely without warmth and sympathy. But I shouldn’t be surprised. He was the one who bore the brunt of my lies. Three years of his life were taken from him simply because I chose to believe the Larsson police over the family that fostered me.
“Food,” he pointed out as he placed two packets of chips and a glass bottle of water, one of those fancy brands in a wine bottle, on the side table.
“You know that feeding me will keep me alive. I thought you’d rather I waste away as punishment.” As I spoke, I refused to lookup at him because that face was remarkably handsome for such an evil man. But I guess no one is perfect.
“Don’t confuse me bringing you food with kindness,” he said, then leaned against the wall in the same place as Ronan had not long ago. Far enough away so he couldn’t touch me, but close enough so he could intimidate me, then examine my expressions and movements in reaction.
“So, why do you bring me food, then?” I sighed, glancing at the chips and having a sudden desire to binge on fatty starch until I popped.
“Because rotten carcasses stink and I wouldn’t want to upset the guests in the other rooms,” he replied with a glimmer in his eyes, showing a dark sense of humor that I could appreciate.
The classic Kaiser satire that Gunner and my foster father shared, although Lars Kaiser lost his humor in the later years after he was released from prison, and cops were always on his back, constantly putting pressure on him. I distinctly remember us walking on eggshells in the house whenever Lars Kaiser was in one of those black moods. The moods deepened as time went on until his death. It was almost as if he could see his death coming.
“You sure know how to make a girl feel special,” I mocked. I wouldn’t have dared to speak to him like that only a week ago, but I had nothing to lose now.
“There’s not a single thing about you that is special,” he replied bluntly, and my body flinched at the tone of his voice. Not because he was being mean, but because he seemed to be forcing a lie, as if he was making himself dislike me and treat me cruelly.
Whatever. I didn’t care. Let the Kaiser monster do his work, killing me slowly, driving me crazy due to the isolation. Death by carbohydrates and sex noises didn’t seem too bad after all.
“Do you find that funny?” he asked, bemused, and I realized that I was smiling at my stupid joke about carbohydrates.
“No,” I sighed. “Actually, it is funny. You’re keeping me locked up in a brothel serenaded by heavy grunting and sighing. It’s basically water torture without the water, as you know, it will eventually drive me nuts.”
“I thought you alreadywerenuts,” he swiftly replied, and I realized he was cracking a joke, but he didn’t smile, so maybe it wasn’t a joke. It was so hard to tell.
I faltered for a few seconds to compose myself so I didn’t laugh some more. I glanced up under my eyelashes at him, and his gaze staggered me as my heart slammed against my ribcage at the intensity of those eyes, and I wondered what thoughts were dancing in that perfectly dark head.
“You remind me of Mr. Kaiser,” I managed to say without stuttering.
“Well…we’re related,” he exhaled and clenched his jaw.
“You’re like a younger, angrier version with curlier hair, and I think you’re a little taller too,” I explained as his eyes narrowed with every word, as his lips tightened, suppressing a smile.
Or at least I think he was suppressing a smile, maybe it was a grimace or a fuming hiss. Oh well. I might as well have fun poking the bear before I die.
“It sounds like you look at me a lot,” he stated firmly, and this time he allowed that smile to show, but only for two seconds before it disappeared again.
“Not really,” I shrugged. “Why would I look at you for? You’re not all that, you know.”
He cocked his head to the side in confusion. “What? You sound like my ex-cellmates,” he pointed out about my slang. “How old are you? The same age as Gunner, aren’t you?”
I nodded as grief invaded my chest, weighing me down. “Twenty. I have two birthdays. One for Annika that I celebrate quietly, and one for Riley that I also celebrate quietly because no one knows me here.”
“And what about the other pseudonym you have?” he asked, frowning as if amused, although it was hard to tell.
“Oh yeah, Petra Black. I forgot about her,” I smirked, then covered my mouth with my hand so that he couldn’t see it. Once I managed to drop my smirk, I added, “See, you should really hire me to work for you because I’m an expert on disguises and spying.”
He snorted and that smile stretched across his chiseled dial, eyes twinkling, expression warming and I was taken aback by my heart soaring as a quiver traveled down my spine. I made the devil smile and liked it.
“I could be just as bad as you,” I added, straightening my shoulders to seem confident.
“Bad? You think I’m bad?” he pressed. “I’m innocent. My criminal record was wiped, Annika. Because a lying little b…” he refused to say the word aloud, “Sided with the police and threw an entire family under the bus.”
“You’re never going to get over that, are you?” I hit, finding the courage to challenge him because, as I kept reminding myself, I had nothing left. “I mean…it’s been three years. It’s probably time you got over it.”
He screwed his face up in indignation as if no one had ever spoken to him like that before. “Did you just lose your head?” he spat heatedly.
