Dangerous Game

Dorcas Lucas had never considered running, but staying in Brooklyn was no longer an option, not with him back. Why had he returned? She felt her stomach twist with nausea as she hurried into her home, one her parents had left her after a fatal accident.

Her fingers trembled, and it was not possible to insert the key into the lock. She closed her eyes, took deep breaths several times, and attempted to do it again. She had to focus, regain control. No room for error.

With the key turned in, she unlocked it, the click echoing in the new silence. She sprinted indoors, shutting the door behind her, fastening all the bolts before making her way to her bedroom. She had never occupied the master bedroom; her parents had been deceased five years, but she clung to her original room.

She walked directly to the closet, opened it and pulled out her suitcase, beginning to pack. How long had he been in town? She didn't know when he returned, but if he were here, it would not take much time before he followed. They were talking about him like he was a lost member of society. Working in the library, Dorcas received little information, but then again, no one liked her that much.

The very idea of it made her stomach churn.

Having crammed most of her belongings into the suitcase, she strained with all her force to close it. She then grabbed her passport, money, and any papers she might require. She could always return if he didn't dawdle. Brooklyn was still hers, despite that she'd never truly been accepted there, not since what she'd done.

Bag and case in hand, she raced downstairs, nearly stumbling in her haste. Clutching the railing, another wave of sickness washed over her, forcing her to sit. Dropping her belongings, she spread her thighs, put her head between her knees, and took several deep breaths.

“It’s fine. I’m fine. I’m going to be fine.” No matter how many times she repeated the words, she remained consumed by fear.

I'm surprised at how dashing he is," said Frost, a library stepmom who teaches the crafting class. "I haven't seen him in ages, and do you know what I heard?"

"What?" asked Jean.

"He's wealthy. Like, ridiculously wealthy. I've heard that it's not all on the up-and-up either. He's not someone you should trust."

"Please, if he does that, then why did he return here?

"No one can pin anything on him. He's a crime lord. Or a drug lord. I tell you, you should have seen those smoldering hot eyes of his. He could do anything he wanted with me," Frost sighed. "It would be preferable to having to try and sew a bloody Halloween costume."

"Why did he have to go again? It's been what? Twelve years?"

"Something about that. Xavier Dean and all his friends were forced to leave due to her."

The moment Dorcas heard that name, she knew she had it coming. No one had used that name in years, or that one, but they did not have to say his name for her to be sure that he would not be far from Xavier. Tears welled in her eyes, and she stood up, taking a deep breath. "She's the one who accused him of sexual assault."

Rather than continuing to debate with Frost and Jean about what really happened twelve years ago, she had walked out of the class. It was pointless teaching gossips. They attended class to add more meaning into their life, but all she ever got from them was how boring life was being a stepmom and attempting to make a family function.

The sickness had worn off, and she rose, headed directly for the kitchen. Xavier and his friends never were supposed to return to Brooklyn. She'd been promised that he would maintain a huge distance from her. Opening the fridge, the tat on her arm caught her attention: "Never Forget." Two words, in cursive letters, placed inside red roses.

Sliding down her arm, she concealed the marks behind a fresh surge of tears in her eyes. She shivered a little. But this was useless. She could eat on the road. There was no point staying on. The longer she stayed, the greater his chances of coming for her. He had promised her that he would find a way to reach her, to make her pay. She had stayed in town, determined to establish a life for herself. He should not be coming back, but with Xavier's return, he would be coming along shortly; she just knew it.

She should have been safe.

She picked up her bag and case and stepped out of her house, closing the door. She turned and saw a man standing at the end of her garden. Her parents had not been wealthy; they bought the home for cash when they were married. Both mother and father had been city children but wanted a family in a small city. Brooklyn was their small city, and well, there had not been any later children. Her mother had not been able to have any others following her. Dorcas remembered the yearning her mother had always had, and they had never considered adoption. They had instead put all their hopes and affections into her.

Now she was alone.

"Dorcas Lucas?" the man asked.

A fear clutched around her heart.

"Who is this?"

"I am. Are you Dorcas Lucas?"

The man was a big one. She could spot the tattoos on his neck. There was a black four-wheel drive parked across the street. She had never been good at make and model. It was obvious on the street. Everyone drove family cars, but this one looked something out of a gangster movie. Now she felt silly.

"No," she said to him, the deception too readily on her lips. It was not worth extending this interview. "Excuse me." She tried to step around him. This man was Xavier's representative; he had to be. Had he sent Xavier to get her here? There was no doubt of it, and she wanted as far away from here as she could get.

The man laughed. "You know, he said you'd try to make a run for it. I didn't think you were that dumb." He reached out and took hold of her arm.

"Let me go." She tried to struggle free.

"Not on your life. I have instructions to take you in."

The man was large and much stronger than she was. She could feel her eyes pricking with tears and fear clutched at her as he started to pull her towards the vehicle.

No! Stop this. Let me go."

No one else was around, and if anyone else was waving their curtains watching, they didn't make any move to come and help her. She was, in effect, alone. She didn't panic, but it was mounting inside her. Her heart raced, and she became ill.

As they walked over to the black car, he pushed her against it, holding her neck.

"You're stubborn, he told me. I didn't know so much. Don't worry, though. I like it when you struggle with me. It makes me all… hot." He ground his body against hers, and she screamed, hating what he was doing to her.

"Stop it."

“Then you’re going to get in the car and you’re not going to cause me any trouble, are you?”

“Who are you?” she asked, tears filling her eyes.

“You’re going to do as you’re told, aren’t you?”

She wanted to rebel. To tell him to fuck off. To leave her alone, but to do that, she’d be risking him hurting her even more, and she couldn’t handle that.

“I’ll do as I’m told.”

"You're going to be a good little girl, aren't you?"

"Yes. I'll be good."

He smiled, and she hated the wickedness in his eyes, which she saw reflected in the glare of the car window. She hated to yield. To yield was not her way.

But you did. That's why you're where you are.

He opened the door and shoved her inside, buckling up the seatbelt. She let out a scream as he encircled his hands around hers and bound some rope on her wrists.

"If you think you are going to try to escape from me, I'm not giving you an option."

The rope was tugged tight, and the first tear appeared.

"I like watching you cry. You know, I've been told a lot about you."

She yanked away from him as he rested his hand against her cheek. "Let me go."

"No."

"Are you at least going to tell me your name?" she demanded. "You know mine."

He grinned. "That I do. You do realize what I find strange. I have noticed at least three curtains twitch and there was even a chap with a dog, and not one of them tried to hinder my progress. There is no love lost between you and these people." He tutted. "You must have been a very naughty girl."

A second tear fell, joining the first.

"Keep crying, sweetie. It won't do you any good." He retreated a pace and she collapsed into the seat. She couldn't fight or argue. "The name's Stephen." He shut the door behind him and got into the driver's seat.

"No more questions?" he asked.

"Will you respond to them?" She refused to look at him. She did not want to afford him the satisfaction of knowing she was afraid, and she was. It had been more than twelve years since she'd been this afraid. She closed her eyes, hating the weakness. "Someone has been waiting a long time for you," he said.

"Why do you work for him?"

"Do you even know what he can do?"

"Yes, I do."

"Then you should know a man as powerful as him has my loyalty. He has purchased it."

"So you can purchase loyalty nowadays?" she asked. "You can be purchased by the highest bidder."

Stephen laughed. "Normally, I would. But you see, there's something about Xavier, he in some way won my respect and my loyalty in a different manner, and now I'd do anything for the lunatic idiot. Even kidnapping a woman, if it comes down to that."

"How thrilling," she said.

"I don't know. I didn't think he would do it. I understand that he can do a lot of things, but you see, I didn't know you're the one who made him what he is."

She glared upward to see Stephen looking at her. Periodically, he would glance down at the road, but his eyes were on her, and she hated it.

"I didn't do anything."