Page 26 of The Captive
“It was a mistake.”
Lana raised a brow.“That’s it?That’s all you have to say about it?”
“Uh-huh.”
He was already edging for the door.Lana got the feeling he did that a lot.Cut and ran whenever things got too uncomfortable for him.
“Do you feel anything, ever?”she found herself grumbling.“Or do you always act like a lifeless robot around women?”
He didn’t even blink.Didn’t answer, either, which intensified her frustration.
“Why are you like this?”she burst out.“I know you’re not a robot, Deacon.That night in the hotel, you were…alive.You laughed and joked and teased me.You were passionate and gentle and…” Her voice trailed.She felt as though she was talking to a brick wall.
“An aberration,” he finally said, a sigh seeping from his massive chest.“Those words you just used—passionate, gentle.That’s not me, Lana.”
“Then who are you, damn it?”She kept her voice low, but every fiber of her being wanted to shout at this man.
“I’m the man who kidnapped you for money.”
His words were harsh, brooking no argument, seeking no acceptance.She stared at his handsome face, that big,lean body.His eyes had darkened to a forest green, and for the first time since they’d met, Lana saw something in his gaze.It was a tiny, almost indiscernible flicker, but she recognized it instantly.
Shame.
He was ashamed.
But of what?His part in her abduction?Past actions?Or was he ashamed of himself?Of who he was, on a cellular level?
“When I was twelve, my brother Dylan dated this girl… Mandy,” Lana started softly.“Everyone in my family adored her.She was a pretty brunette, smart, great sense of humor.She treated my parents like royalty, always helping clean up after dinner even though we had three housekeepers to do it.She helped me with my homework.Brought little thoughtful gifts for my mom, talked politics with my dad.She was totally perfect.”
Deacon eyed her warily.“Why are you telling me this?”
“Just…listen.”She took a breath.“So she was perfect, right, but no matter how hard I tried, I always got this nagging little feeling when she was around.She didn’t do a thing to warrant my suspicions, but they were there.”
Deacon quit moving toward the door, growing still and silent as he listened.“And were you right to be suspicious?”
Lana nodded.“Turned out she was stealing from us.Jewelry, family heirlooms, pieces of silver, even random knickknacks.Mom ended up firing one of our housekeepers—Mandy had planted a necklace in the woman’s room when my parents started noticing the thefts.When the truth came out, everyone was shocked.”
“But not you.”
“Not me.”She set the dinner tray beside her on the bedspread, her hunger forgotten.Leaning forward, she clasped her hands in her lap and met his eyes.“I get feelings about people.I’ve had them since I was a little girl.I know, without reason or provocation, whether someone is a good person or a truly vile one.I knew it about Mandy, when there wasn’t a single sign to prove otherwise.”She took a breath.“And I sense it about you.”
He spoke in a pained voice.“That I’m vile?”
“That you’re the opposite,” she said with the shake of her head.“Deep down, I think you’re a good man.”
Disbelief filled his eyes.“Good?”he balked.“I’m sorry to burst your bubble, sweetheart, but there’s nothing good about me.As I just pointed out, I’m a willing party in your kidnapping.”
A tornado of despair swirled in her stomach.He kept reminding her of that, and yet she kept disregarding it.What was wrong with her?Why was she determined to cling to the notion that Deacon Holt was a good person?
“I think,” he began slowly, “that for once, your sixth sense has failed you.”He sighed.“Actually, I don’t think it’s a sixth sense at all, Lana.Maybe with your brother’s girlfriend, but right here, right now, it’s plain old idealism that’s making you see things that aren’t there.”
“I’m not idealistic,” she whispered.
“Yes, you are.”His mouth twisted ruefully.“Maybe it’s because you’re an artist, or maybe you’ve just never had anything bad happen to you.But you seek perfection where it doesn’t exist, Lana.”
“No.”
“Yes.”He gave a bleak laugh.“In fact, you remind me of myself, when I was younger.I was optimistic, too, once, before reality crashed in.A word of advice, sweetheart, you can’t cling to fantasy forever.Eventually reality will settle in.”
