Page 47 of The Captive
He flinched, as if the question caused physical pain.
“Tell me,” she pressed.
“I…survived.”
Those three little syllables told her so much more than he’d probably intended to reveal.“How?”she asked.
He shifted, his pecs flexing from the movement.“However I could.I ran drugs for a couple of guys in South Boston.Did some enforcer work for the Southie mafia.”
“Enforcer work?”
“I beat up lowlifes who owed them money,” he said flatly.
A short silence fell.Lana suspected that was all she’d get from him, but to her surprise, he continued.His expression never changed, but the pain in his tone hung in the air.
“We were wealthy.Did I tell you that?”
“No, you didn’t.”
“Well, it’s true.Disgustingly wealthy, in fact.My father owned a shipping company, he inherited it from his father, who inherited it fromhisfather.The family business was worth billions.”
Lana blinked in shock.She was no stranger to family money, but somehow she couldn’t picture Deacon growing up with such affluence.
“Mom was a renowned ballerina in her time,” he went on, a faraway note entering his voice.“She was so beautiful, unbelievably graceful.She retired after she had me, but she still kept a dance studio on the top floor of our house.I used to sit there and watch her dance for hours.”
“And your dad?”
“He wasn’t as gentle as my mother.He… I guess you could call him abusive.”
“He hit her?”
“No.He didn’t use fists, he used words.He wanted so much from everyone, from her, from me, and we alwayscame up short.We always disappointed him, and he never hesitated to tell us that, especially her.And then one day, he just snapped.”Deacon’s voice thickened with pain.“I don’t know why.I have no clue what led to it, what she might have said or done to trigger him.I hired a PI about fifteen years ago, trying to piece it together, but he came up with nothing.Mom wasn’t cheating, hadn’t planned on leaving, hadn’t doneanything.My father just…”
He stopped abruptly.Lana knew what came next, a tragic murder-suicide that had shattered Deacon’s entire world.Rather than focus on that horrifying snippet of history, she said, “After they died, what happened to the money?”
“My uncle happened.”Bitterness dripped from the admission.“I was only fifteen, so he became my guardian.He would run the business until I came of age, but what he did was run it into the ground.He also threw me out.”
She sucked in a breath.“Why would he do that?”
“Greed,” Deacon said emphatically.“He was always so envious of my father.Their father had favored his eldest, and my uncle James was the son who got hand-me-downs and leftovers.James was bitter.He also had a massive gambling problem and piss-poor business sense.He got rid of me, and then managed to lose every last penny his ancestors had worked so hard to earn.”
The picture Deacon painted was so awful Lana reached out to touch his chest.She pressed her palm to his heart, feeling each erratic beat rapping against her flesh.“Where did you go?”
“Wherever I could make money.”
She hesitated.“Have you kidnapped other people before?”
“A few.Not to be callous, but most of them deserved it.Normally I’m hired for mercenary work—raiding villages, extracting relief workers from hot areas.Sometimes the jobs are legal, other times they aren’t.”
His reply offered no apology, and Lana wasn’t sure it deserved one.She suddenly imagined a fifteen-year-old Deacon living on the streets, scrounging to feed and clothe himself.She couldn’t even fathom how he’d managed to survive.She’d been fortunate enough to grow up with financially secure parents who loved and cherished her.What would she have done if her parents died and Uncle Donald had disowned her?Would she have turned to a dangerous lifestyle the way Deacon had?
“And you survived,” she said quietly, stroking the hot skin of his chest.“Whatever you did in the past ensured you stayed alive.But now…”
“But now nothing.I may have survived, but my choices have pretty much sucked every last drop of humanity out of me, Lana.”
“I don’t believe that.”
“It’s true.”His hand covered hers, slowly removing her fingers from his skin.“I have nothing to give to a child, a wife.There’s no goodness left in me, and you, ourbaby,deserve a good life.”
