Page 65 of Captive

It’s Royal, and all he does is frown at me. Frown at me and stop before anyone else can funnel into the house. The man literally blocks the entire doorway with his oversized musculature. “Well?” he asks. “Don’t stop there. You missed me so much what?”

Someone peeks her head around his frame: Abby. She giggles and says, “Yeah, how bad did you miss Royal, hmm?” Of course she’d be all about it. “Go on, be specific.”

I heave a sigh and motion for Royal to get in the damn house so I can greet Abby like I want to. Royal frowns at me, clearly not wanting to move, but when Ezra speaks from the back, still standing in the garage, “Just get inside already. I want to shower,” he finally moves past me. His shower will have to wait a little bit, however.

Before Abby can say a single word, I pull her in for a hug. Not something I’m used to doing.

She fits easily against my body, her face buried in my chest. She giggles again, but nevertheless she wraps her arms around my midsection and returns the embrace. A few seconds pass, and then she angles her face up at me and grins widely, teasing, “Miss me that much, huh? Maybe I should go away more often. Wonder what the homecoming would be if I’m gone for a week.”

I don’t respond to her, not with words, anyway. The embrace ends only so I can cup her face with my hands and bend over to kiss her, and just like before she left, she tastes of sweetness and wonder.

Ezra dropped the bag near the door, and he now stands near Royal, who mutters under his breath, “Get a fucking room. Oh, wait.” Beside him, Ezra rolls his eyes.

The kiss isn’t a long one. We don’t get too into it. No tongues involved or anything like that. When her mouth is no longer on mine, I say, “Let’s debrief.” I’m about to turn and lead the way—as much as I’d like to take Abby to our room and tear off her clothes, if I don’t send the Benefactor a report…

Well, let’s just say I don’t want to give them any reason to pull Abby out of this house and put her with another group. As far as I know that’s never happened before, but I also don’t know if any other group is as entangled with each other as we are now.

“Here? Now?” Abby’s innocent voice drips a certain slyness. “All right. Royal, take off those pants—”

I sigh. “That is not what I meant by debrief.”

Abby’s joke earns her a chuckle from both Royal and Ezra, and as I turn around, a smile finds its way to my face, too. Damn it. See? There’s something about her that just tugs at something inside you, something you can’t fight, can’t ignore.

Soon enough we are in my office, and I sit with my laptop open, a document at the ready. We go through the normal list of questions. As far as I know, the cleaning crew is already long gone; they also get in and get out as fast as they can. We are a well-oiled machine, and even though we might’ve taken in Abby, we’ll remain that way.

We have to, if we want to continue doing what we do. Frankly, there’s nothing else in the world I’d rather do, nothing else that would give me the same amount of purpose this does.

I’m locked in my analytical mind as we do the debriefing. My fingers work overtime on the keyboard as I type out everything the three across from me say. It’s such a normal thing to do when they get back from a kill that I momentarily forget just who the target was this time, and I don’t have the chance to ask Abby how she’s feeling before the three of them wander off and leave me to finish writing and formatting the report.

I don’t stop them. I let them go, diligently doing my work. It’s only after the report is sent that I get up and wander to our room, finding Abby leaning against the window, only the lamp near the bed on.

“Knock, knock,” I say, causing her to toss a smile over her shoulder at me. My feet draw me closer to her, until I’m standing with her at the window. “The three of you ran off after the debriefing, I didn’t get the chance to ask you how you’re doing.”

Abby turns toward me, leaning her back against the wall beside the window, her hands held behind her back. Her silvery eyes are vibrant with life, and a gentle smile is slow at tugging at her lips. “I’m good.”

I don’t say anything, figuring there’s more to it. There is. There has to be.

“I am,” she says, as she must sense my doubt. “The people who say revenge doesn’t make you feel any better are liars. Or good people—and we all know none of us are good people. So, yeah, I feel good knowing that asshole is dead. I’m glad I was the one who cut off his head.”

“Good,” I say. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be there with you when you did it.”

“Don’t be. You have a system going, and I’m a part of the team now. I don’t want to fuck up the system too much.” She smirks, and then she turns her head and stares off into space. “If anything, I feel sorry that I couldn’t give Connor what he deserved sooner. I don’t want to think about the girls he could’ve possibly hurt over the years, or the good times he had between.” She shakes her head once. “The world’s a better place without him, that’s all I know.”

I’m glad she’s not feeling guilty. I don’t think any of us felt guilty after taking out our personal demons. She truly does belong with us. “He made three, didn’t he?”

The smile she gives me right then is wide, ear to ear. “You remembered.”

“Of course I did. I remember everything. It’s a blessing and a curse.”

With a nod, Abby says, “Connor made three. Granted, the circumstances were a little different, and I had Royal and Ezra with me this time, but I’m still counting it. Your girl’s a serial killer now. Isn’t that exciting?”

She sounds like she’s talking about landing the concert tickets she’s always wanted, front-row to her favorite musician. Like she’s remarking on a perfectly-scored test everyone else failed. Something unusual, but more normal. I don’t know anyone who’d sound so thrilled about becoming a serial killer.

“It is,” I agree.

“What are we going to do to celebrate? I mean, we are going to celebrate, right? It isn’t every day you become a serial killer. We should throw a little party or something—clothes optional.” With that, she winks at me, and in spite of it all, a blush creeps up my cheeks.

She knows exactly how to make me blush. It’s a little embarrassing, but she seems to enjoy doing it, so I try not to think about it too much.