Capture Me: The Complete Trilogy

Chapter 22

22Yulia

Over the next four days, we settle into a new routine. When I’m not tied up, I cook, we eat our meals together, and we go for early morning walks in the forest. And we f**k. We f**k a lot. It’s as if the knowledge that we’ll soon be separated makes Lucas even hungrier for me. He f***s me everywhere—the bedroom, the kitchen, up against a tree in the forest—and so frequently that by the end of the day, I’m raw and aching, my body sore and my soul torn by the knowledge that I’m sleeping with the enemy.

No, not that I’m sleeping with the enemy—that I’m enjoying it. No matter what I tell myself, no matter how much I try to resist, I unravel at the seams the moment Lucas touches me. Maybe if he hurt me again, it would be different, but he doesn’t. His passion for me is forceful, even violent sometimes, but there’s no anger or intent to harm in it. And often—far too often for my sanity—there’s tenderness too.

It’s as if he’s beginning to care about me, to want me for something more than s*x.

I try not to think about that—about his plans for me and the trackers he’s going to use, shackling me to him while he destroys everything I hold dear. Lucas hasn’t talked much about UUR, but from the little he let slip, I know he’s already set things in motion with some hackers. There’s a chance his search will set off alarms at the agency and they’ll have time to go into hiding, but there’s no guarantee of that. Obenko has never been up against an enemy as powerful and ruthless as the Esguerra organization, and there’s a very real possibility he’s outmatched.

If Lucas and his boss were able to take down Al-Quadar, it’s only a matter of time before they’ll do the same with my agency. I need to escape, or at least send them a message to warn them of what’s coming, but Lucas is as careful with his phone and laptop as he is with his guns. Maybe one day, I’ll be able to sneak into his office and crack the password on his computer, but I can’t count on that.

There’s only one way I can possibly save Misha now.

I have to tell Lucas about him.

It’s a terrifying step for me. I don’t trust my captor—he’s already proven he’ll use my vulnerabilities against me—but I don’t see any other way. If I stay silent, Misha is as good as dead. I know I won’t be able to talk Lucas out of vengeance on UUR, but maybe he’d be willing to use whatever influence he has with Esguerra to spare my brother.

Misha’s normal life is already forfeit, but there’s a chance I can keep him from getting killed.

Before approaching Lucas with my request, I decide to fix the rift between us, to make things go back to the way they were before he broke me. I do it subtly to avoid raising his suspicions, but by the evening after our first walk, I respond to him in full sentences, and by the next day, I act almost as if nothing happened. I go down on him in the shower, ask him what he would like me to make for dinner, and resume talking to him about the books I’m reading. I even tell him about my first horrendous experience at ballet, when a teacher said in front of the whole class that I have the neck of an ostrich—which, of course, led to the other kids calling me “Ostrich” for years.

Lucas laughs at that story, his light-colored eyes crinkling with amusement, and I smile at him, forgetting for a moment that he’s my enemy, that I’m not doing this for real. It’s shockingly easy to buy into my own act. When I’m not thinking about Misha’s imminent fate, I truly do enjoy Lucas’s company. For such a hard-edged man, my jailer is surprisingly easy to talk to—attentive and smart without being arrogant. Though Lucas never attended college, he’s well versed in a number of topics and can speak intelligently about everything from world politics and the stock market to cutting-edge developments in science and technology.

“Where did you learn so much about investing?” I ask during a walk when the conversation turns to a finance book I read earlier this morning. Nassim Taleb’s The Black Swan is a strongly worded criticism of risk management in the finance industry, and it surprises me to discover that it’s one of Lucas’s favorite nonfiction works.

“Both of my parents are corporate lawyers on Wall Street,” he says. “I grew up with CNBC blaring in the background, and on my twelfth birthday, my father opened an investment account for me. You could say it’s in my blood.”

“Oh.” Fascinated, I stop and stare at him. “Do you invest now?”

Lucas nods. “I have a good-sized portfolio. I don’t manage it myself because I don’t have time to do it properly, but the guy I use is good. He’s actually Esguerra’s manager as well. I’ll probably visit him when we’re in Chicago.”

“I see.” I don’t know why I’m surprised. It makes sense. I know Lucas’s background from his file. I guess I thought none of his upbringing rubbed off on him, but I should’ve known better, especially once I discovered all those books in his office.

“Do you keep in touch with them?” I ask. “Your parents, I mean?”

“No.” Lucas’s expression turns shuttered. “I don’t.”

His file said as much, but I’d wondered if that was a cover he concocted to keep his family safe. Apparently not. I’m tempted to ask more, but I don’t want to pry—it’s important to stay in my captor’s good graces. For the rest of the walk, I let Lucas guide the conversation, and when we stop by the pond again, I sink to my knees and give him a blow job, using every skill I possess.

His happiness is my top priority these days.

The day before Lucas’s departure, I decide it’s time to tell him about Misha. For lunch, I prepare what I discovered is Lucas’s favorite meal: roast chicken with mashed potatoes and apple pie for dessert. I also take special care to brush my hair until it’s silky smooth, and wear a short white sundress—the nicest outfit he got for me. When we sit down at the table, I see Lucas devouring me with his eyes, and I know that in this at least, I pleased him.

Now I need to see how far his goodwill extends.

As we eat, I try to figure out the best moment to broach the subject. Will he be in the best mood before or after dessert? Should I let him finish his chicken, or is it okay to bring up my brother now? While I’m debating that, Lucas says conversationally, “I did some research on your hometown of Donetsk recently. Is it true that for most people there, their native language is Russian, not Ukrainian?”

I let out a relieved breath. This is as good a lead-in to this topic as any. “Yes, it’s true,” I say, smiling. “My family spoke Russian at home. I studied Ukrainian in school, but I’m actually more fluent in English than in Ukrainian.”

Lucas nods, as if I confirmed something he suspected. “That’s why they came to your orphanage, right? Because the kids there were already fluent in one of the languages they needed?”

It takes everything I have to keep smiling. The reminder of the orphanage and UUR takes away my appetite, even though we’re getting closer to the subject I want to discuss. Moving my half-full plate aside, I say as calmly as I can manage, “Yes, that’s why. I was a particularly good candidate because I also knew English.”

“And because you’re beautiful.” Lucas’s gaze cools unexpectedly. “Don’t forget that part.”

I gather my courage. “Maybe,” I say carefully. “But they’re not all bad people. In fact—”

Lucas holds up his hand, palm out. “Yulia, stop. I know what you’re going to say.”

Stunned, I stare at him. “You do?”

“You want me to spare one of them, right?” Lucas’s eyes once again remind me of winter ice. “That’s what all this”—he sweeps his hand in a gesture encompassing the table—“is about, isn’t it? The dress, the food, the pretty smiles? You think I don’t see right through you?”

I swallow, my heart beginning to race. “Lucas, I just—”

“Don’t.” His voice is as hard as the look on his face. “Don’t humiliate yourself. It’s not going to work. It’s out of my hands.”

My stomach fills with lead. “What do you mean?”

“Esguerra will never go for it, and I won’t use up my currency with him on this.”

I stand up, reeling. “But—”

“There’s nothing more to discuss.” Lucas gets up as well, his expression forbidding. “The only person from UUR who’ll be spared is you.”

I step around the table, my shock transforming into cold terror. Surely he doesn’t mean this. “Lucas, please. You don’t understand. He’s innocent. He has nothing to do with this.” I grab his hand, squeezing it in desperation. “Please, I’ll do anything if you spare him. He’s just one person. All you need to do is let him live—”

Lucas wrenches his hand out of my grasp, cutting off my plea. “I told you. There’s nothing I can do for him.” There’s no pity on my captor’s face, no hint of mercy. “Esguerra decides these matters, not me. You’re s**t out of luck, beautiful.”

My vision darkens at the edges, blood pounding in my ears. “Please, Lucas—” I reach for him again, but he grabs my wrist and twists my arm upward, preventing me from touching him.

“Do not f*****g beg for him.” Squeezing my wrist painfully, Lucas pulls me to him, and I see scalding fury in the icy depths of his eyes. “You’re lucky to be alive yourself. Don’t you f*****g get that? If you weren’t such a hot lay—” He stops, but it’s too late.

I hear his message loud and clear, and the fragile remnants of my fantasies turn to dust.