**NILA**
THE AIRPORT BAR reeked of sad goodbyes and tears. Just like my soul.
I rolled my eyes. I didn't like the sort of person Jethro made me. Someone who only saw the negative and was ruled by fear. I'm an award winning designer. I'm wealthy in my own right.
The unknown future crushed my heart, but it was the thought of losing myself while it happened that scared me the most.
"I need a drink. I'll get you one, too," Jethro muttered.
I spun to face him. Big mistake. I stumbled to the left, cursing the suddenly tilting room. My vertigo wasn't normally this bad. An episode a day was my norm, not every time I tried to move.
A cold hand grasped my elbow. "That condition you have—it's really getting on my nerves."
The floor steadied beneath my feet; I tore my arm from his hold. "Leave me alone then. Get on the plane and let me fall over in peace."
He shook his head, gold eyes darkening with impatience. "I have a much better idea."
I looked away, taking in the low square-line sofas, sad plastic plants, and dirty carpeting. This can't be happening. Everything seemed surreal. I was at the airport with a man who'd threatened the lives of my brother and father. I was about to climb on a plane with him. I was about to disappear.
And probably never be found.
It wasn't rational. It was completely nonsensical.
Suddenly a drink sounded perfect. Alcohol and vertigo didn't mix, but damned if I wanted to exist full of grief and horror.
Jethro motioned toward a booth by the window where large spotlights turned the black sea of tarmac into false daylight, casting a warm glow on sleeping jumbo jets ready to depart.
Not giving me a chance to say anything else, or to even relay my preference, he stalked away, beelining for the bar.
Quick. Now.
The moment he had his back to me, I pulled my cell phone from my jacket pocket. He said I could keep it. He said I could talk to anyone I chose. He hadn't said when—now or when we got to his 'home', but I desperately needed Vaughn.
My eyes burned as I unlocked the screen. Hunching over the glowing device, I did as my captor ordered and made my way to the booth.
Typing in the number I knew by heart and practically the only number I ever called, I sucked in a breath.
A wall planted itself in my way.
A cold, unforgiving wall.
My head snapped up. Jethro crossed his arms, anger radiating from every inch. "What are you doing?"
I swallowed hard; my palms grew slippery with nervousness. "You said I could keep my phone. You said—"
"I know what I said. I may not stop you, but you still need permission. I am, after all, in control of your life from now on." Peering into my eyes, he added, "Don't make a rash decision you can't undo, Ms. Weaver." His English accent clipped my name in an unfamiliar way. He spoke it as if it were dirt. A filthy word contaminating his mouth.
My finger hovered over the call button for my twin. The one man who I could say anything to and he would understand. Summoning what useless power I had, I said, "Please, may I make a phone call? I won't be stupid. I know what's on the line."
Jethro tutted under his breath. "That's the problem. You don't know. You think you do. You think all of this is a joke. You're not grasping the depth of what this means, nor will you until you've been educated."
Taking a step, closing the distance between us, he breathed, "But you do know one thing. You know what I will tolerate. Lying to me is another offence that comes with swift punishment. Stay honest, polite, and obedient and your heart will remain beating."
I wanted to scream at him. His quiet voice was worse than being yelled at. It was so...decent...so eloquent. It made all of this seem normal. And it so wasn't. So not normal.
"I understand. Do I have your permission?" My jaw ached I gritted so hard, refraining from what I really wanted to say. If I wasn't so afraid of this psycho I would hit him. I would leap onto his back and pummel him until he bled. Just to see if he did bleed, because a part of me expected him to be nothing but stone.
He frowned. "Fine. But I'll remain in earshot for this first conversation."
I shook my head. "No. I need privacy."
He smiled—a thin ribbon of emotion. "You need to realize privacy is a luxury you'll no longer have. Everything you do from now on will be monitored by me. Nothing will be hidden. Everything must be approved."
Everything? A horrible image of me begging to go to the bathroom only to be refused filled my mind. Not only had he taken me for something I didn't understand, he'd stolen my basic rights as a human.
I truly am a pet.
Jethro's hand whipped out, stealing my phone.
No! Being separated from it made all of this far too real. The starkness of my situation hammered at my soul.
Staring at the screen, he scrolled rudely through my contacts. My very limited contacts. His eye twitched, handing the device back. "You seem to live in a world dominated by males. The only names in your preferred lists are men, aside from a mysterious entry Kite007." He stiffened. "Care to tell me if that person is female? I somehow doubt it, seeing as it's clearly a reference to the ridiculous James Bond Franchise."
Snatching the phone, I said, "I don't care to tell you anything. Leave me alone. I'm calling my brother. I gave you my word I wouldn't jeopardise whatever you're planning until I know the full story."
Jethro placed his hands into his pockets. His cream shirt and diamond pin were the epitome of class. In an ordinary circumstance, I would've been honoured and thrilled to have a date with a man with deliciously thick greying hair and a handsome face. I'd always preferred men over boys.
But he had to ruin it.
He ruined everything.
Jethro didn't move. Just stood there. Silently.
There was no winning. He wouldn't raise his voice or strike me to get his way—not in public anyway—but his posture intimidated me until I gave in.
Staring at the awaiting number, I deliberated against calling V. What did I hope to achieve? It would kill me to hear his voice. But what if it's a lie and the moment he's got you where no one can see, he takes the only thing you have left?
I couldn't risk it. Not if I could speak to V one last time.
Locking eyes with my gorgeously-groomed nemesis, I pressed the 'call' button and held the phone to my ear.
Being granted no privacy was horrid. My back stayed straight and all feelings of weakness were buried beneath false strength.
Do not cry. Do. Not. Cry.
The call connected on the first ring.
Vaughn never kept me waiting, almost as if he sensed it was me calling—twin empathy connecting us once again.
Shit, what if he hears? What if he sensed my unhappiness? How would I stop him from coming for me—wherever I was going.
Vaughn's husky voice came down the line. "Nila. Tell me where you are. I'm coming to get you. Tex is acting really strange, and I'm done not being able to get a straight answer."
I sighed, turning my back on Jethro, staring at the airplanes below. So many things ran through my head. I wanted to ask how Dad was acting strange. What all of this meant. But I kept it all bottled up. For him. For them.
"I'm fine, V. I'm..."
I need you. Come get me. Save me please.
"You don't sound fine. Where are you?"
In hell with a monster.
Looking around the bar, I shrugged. "I'm exactly where I need to be."
To keep you safe.
"Stop with the bullshit, Threads. What's really going on?"
Sighing hard, I pressed a palm against my feverish forehead. I sucked at lying. Especially to V. "Something's come up. I'm going away for a little while. A holiday where I can unwind. I should be able to contact you—if the Wi-Fi and phone lines are good." I couldn't stop rambling. "Tonight really put a strain on me, you know? It came together so well, but it wasn't easy—you saw how bad it got toward the end. I just need—"
"What you need is a fucking spanking. You don't just leave without talking this through!" Vaughn paused, a disbelieving huff coming down the line. "You can't be serious. We had plans. You said you'd come with me when I went to Bangkok next week for more merchandise. We've booked the flights and everything."
I didn't want to be reminded of everything I was walking away from.
"I'm sorry, but I can't go. You have to trust me and not push. Just accept what I'm telling you and that I need some alone time, okay? You'll be able to contact me by phone and email."
"This is bullshit."
"V, please. Be supportive, like you always are."
Don't make this ten times harder to say goodbye.
"Skype? I need to see you, Threads. Something doesn't feel right. You're keeping things from me."
A firm fingertip prodded my shoulder. Jethro whispered, "No Skype."
I didn't know how he heard V and didn't want to ask why Skype wasn't permitted. Why doesn't he want my family to see me? Because who knows what you'll look like when he's finished.
The fear I'd been able to keep leashed suddenly swamped me. I moved forward, collapsing into an uncomfortable booth.
"Threads. Threads?" Vaughn's voice echoed down the line. "Goddammit, Nila. What the fuck is going on?"
Sighing, I rested my elbows on the table. The weight of aloneness and depression settled heavily. "I don't know," I whispered.
The phone disappeared from my fingertips. "Hello, Mr. Weaver. We met earlier. Jethro Hawk." Jethro glowered, making me wish the seat would devour me.
A loud stream of curses came through the phone. Jethro pinched the bridge of his nose. "No, see that's where you're wrong. If you have an issue with me enjoying your sister for a time, speak to your father. For now, Nila is mine, and I won't have anyone saying differently."
He held the mobile away from his ear for a second while Vaughn exploded. A furious shadow darkened his face.
Jethro gripped the phone, growling like a rabid wolf. "That's none of your concern. I'm taking her. I've already taken her. And there's nothing you can do. Goodbye, Mr. Weaver. Don't make me regret my kind generosity toward your sister so soon."
He hung up, tossing me the useless phone. "If you want a piece of advice on how to survive the coming months, don't talk to your brother again unless you want to pay a serious price. He's detrimental to your willingness to obey, and a fuckwit."
Tears welled. I didn't want to cry. Damned if I'd shed anymore useless liquid over this bastard.
"Don't call him a—" I stopped mid-sentence. There really wasn't any point in arguing. He'd win. Just like he'd won up till now without a curse uttered or shout yelled.
I'm meek. He was controlling me with no ropes or chains or curses. I was under his horrible spell, threatened by the illusion of him murdering the people I held most dear.
My eyes flickered toward the exit behind him. Jethro followed my gaze. He side-stepped, waving his arm toward the temptation of running. "You want to leave? Go. If you're so selfish to let others die for you, I'm not going to stop you. One phone call from me, Ms. Weaver, and it all ends for them."
I didn't move, deliberation a heavy cross on my shoulders. How could I sit there and let him take control of my life? But how could I ever live with myself if I ran?
He'd kill my family and there'd be nothing to run toward.
Everything was pointless.
I hunched, deliberately looking away from the exit.
Jethro came closer, crowding me into the booth. "Good choice. Now sit there, don't move, and I'll get you something that'll make this easier." He turned away, but not before I heard his murmured, "For me at least."
I waited until he stood at the bar, smiling at the barmaid, before I opened a new message.
My hands shook, jiggling the phone, but I wouldn't stop. He might not let me talk to people I love, but people I hated didn't matter. The one person who drove me into this mess might be my only hope at surviving it.
If he forgave me.
Needle&Thread: Kite, I don't do this lightly, but my life has taken a certain change and...well, I would like to be able to message you if it gets too much. I'm sorry I overstepped. I'm not going to say any more than...please. I need to be able to talk to you if I need to.
I pressed send, hating myself and how weak I sounded. He wouldn't understand the strength and courage it'd taken to write that or bow into the meeker role. But I needed someone—a friend. And the sad part of my life was—I had none.
Resting my phone on the table, I stared unseeingly out of the window. Tears tried to take me hostage again, but I curled my hands, digging long nails into my palms. The pain gave me a distraction, letting me stay outwardly calm.
Jethro took his time, talking softly to the botoxed waitress. I wished he'd forget all about me so I could sneak out the door and never return.
My phone buzzed.
I'd never hoped for anything more in my life as I read the new message.
Kite007: Understand me too when I say I don't forgive or forget lightly. But I appreciate your message and can't deny you've got me intrigued. You've almost got me wanting to know what changed in your life to send you grovelling back to me. I'm not an idiot to know it must've been pretty big after what we said to each other. I'll let you message me and reply on one condition.
There was nothing else. Glancing over at Jethro, he had his back to me waiting for his order. Still time. Still hope.
I swiftly messaged Kite back.
Needle&Thread: I accept. Whatever your condition.
Please just give me someone to talk to. No matter how cryptic and shallow he was, I needed it. So much.
Kite007: No details. I'll reply as long as your messages don't make me care. You've got the wrong man if you want sympathy.
I wanted to tell him to piss off. That he wasn't worth it. But I swallowed my pride just as Jethro placed a single shot of white liquor in front of me. "Whoever you're messaging, stop."
Glaring into his light, unfeeling eyes, I flicked a curtain of hair over my shoulder.
In my first, but definitely not my last act of defiance, I typed a single word.
One word that gave me a shallow friend who didn't care if I lived or died.
The only person I had left.
Needle&Thread: Deal.