Kenz

Someone once told me the only cages that hold us are the ones we make ourselves. The idiot who said that clearly hadn’t ever found himself locked up in an actual cage like this.

People walked past, glancing in as if I were some exhibit in a zoo instead of a flesh-and-blood woman. Some paused, leering or looking on with pity, but none stopped long enough to make me think they’d help.

A gag in my mouth kept me silent, and the cuffs on my wrists hooked together behind me, which meant escape on my own didn’t seem all that probable.

Nem would have found a way…

I cursed myself yet again for not being my older sister, for not being as tough or as smart as the others in my life. They would have never let themselves get abducted, but I wasn’t them.

I never lived up to the people around me, did I?

Whispers drifted to me, from the faceless people who walked by. Due to the light at the far wall, shadow bathed their faces and kept me from recognizing anyone.

She’s so pretty.

A little old for my taste.

Might be worth some fun if she doesn’t go for too much.

I wanted to shake my head, to tell them to screw off, but instead, I only trembled. Their words hit home, reminding me of exactly where I was, of how I’d gotten here.

I was at some sort of auction, and I was nothing more than merchandise here. The people who walked by were customers, people who had come to buy whatever illegal goods were put up for sale.

In addition to myself, I’d spotted paintings, jewelry, even a white tiger with the prettiest black stripes I’d ever seen. This was a place where people could buy anything—including me.

I sighed and rested against the bars at the back of the cage, trying to drown out the noise that surrounded me. How had everything changed so fast? How had I ended up here when my life had been so predictable just yesterday?

I just want to go back to yesterday…

* * * *

Yesterday

“Yes, Colton, I know!” The phone rested between my ear and my shoulder as I rushed through my room.

“You say you know, but the last time I visited, you weren’t using your window locks.” Colton’s voice held the same annoyance it usually did. It was the sound that would send most smart people running, but I’d grown up with that voice.

“You don’t understand. This is Florida, and it gets hot and muggy! I have to crack the windows.”

“We’ll have a better air conditioner set up, then.”

“I don’t need that. I just need to open the windows at night to let the cool air in.”

“And when you let in perverts along with the cool air?”

“Well, at least I’ll have a man over then.” I let out a little squeak of happiness when I spotted my sketchbook, tucked under a sweater. I really needed to learn to organize better, but I’d never been good at it. Now that I didn’t have people hired to do the job, I’d had to recognize how bad I was at it.

“You are more than welcome to have men over,” Colton said. “Of course, I hope they aren’t men you care about, since dead men don’t make it to second dates.”

I rolled my eyes, glad he remained safely on the other side of the country so he couldn’t see it.

“Don’t roll your eyes.”

This time I stuck my tongue out, wondering just how I had lived so long with such overprotective worriers in my life.

“Now, if you don’t listen and keep the windows closed and locked, I’ll have cameras put in.”

“You will not,” I argued for what had to have been the millionth time. Having them see how I came and left was bad enough, but the idea of them actually watching me every moment I was home went way too far.

A scuffle on the other side of the phone happened before a smoother voice spoke, one who could convince almost anyone to do almost anything. “Do you have a boyfriend, Kenz?”

“No, Dane, I don’t.”

He let out a long sigh as if relieved. “Good. Now, have you gone to the doctor recently? Aren’t you due for a checkup?”

“I had a checkup two months ago!”

“Her red blood cells were low,” Bray called from behind, telling me Dane had put me on speaker. “She should go back to see if the iron pills resolved it.”

I nearly asked how Bray knew that but shut my mouth before I did. Bray was a tech genius. He could find anything if he wanted to. My medical records and test results would have proven no challenge for him.

It drew my gaze to the pill bottle on the counter, the one that had gotten delivered to me the day after my appointment, the proof that they’d been involved from that point.

“I set up an appointment for her to see her diabetes specialist,” Bray added on. “It will be in three weeks.”

“She won’t answer our calls anymore if you do this,” Rune muttered, and I could almost see him shaking his head at the others. “Leave her be.”

“She’s leaving her windows open!” Colten argued back. “And there have been break-ins around there. She’s in a nice apartment, but that doesn’t mean she should ignore her own safety.”

“Enough.” Nem’s voice cut through the chatter of the others, and again I found myself jealous. It took only one word from my sister for her to take control, even of men like those four. The noise on the phone changed again, making me suspect she’d taken the cell and turned off speakerphone. “I’m sorry,” she said softly. “You know how they are.”

“Yeah, I know.” I tossed my sketchbook into my bag, checking to ensure my insulin pen was safely tucked inside, then surveyed the room once more for anything else I might need. “Look, I’ve got to get to class.”

“Okay, Kenz. Have a good day. I’ll call again in a few days.” Just when I’d thought I might get off easy, Nem’s voice floated back through the line. “Make sure you bring your pepper spray.”

I glanced at the pink pepper spray that hung beside my front door, one of the ten that I had because each time any of them visited me, they always brought more.

And it wasn’t just the pepper spray. I also had stun guns, Tasers, blades of all sorts and a 9mm in a safe in my closet. Normal people brought candles or sweet treats as gifts, but not my family. They brought weapons with them each time.

“Got it. I’ll talk to you later.” I hung up the call and tossed my phone into my bag with the rest of my things. At the door, I glanced at the pepper spray, then shook my head.

I didn’t need it, and I refused to live in fear just because my family was paranoid. I locked the door behind me, then rushed off for school.

* * * *

I sipped my coffee, the elevator taking forever to get where it was headed. Then again, I had a feeling that was less about the speed of the elevator and more about just how my day had been thrown off by the call earlier.

The light over the doors lit up at floor three, and I let out a loud sigh. Of course, the time I was busy, someone else had to get on. The elevator slowed then stopped at that floor. The doors slid open, and a man got on along with me.

I had a moment of wishing I’d brought my pepper spray.

The man was tall and lean, but he had a physique I knew well. After growing up surrounded by killers and fighters, I could tell the difference between a body crafted in a gym versus one built by hard work and violence.

He had short black hair, long on the top but shaved tight on the sides and stunningly golden eyes. He said nothing as he got on but placed himself in the back corner of the elevator. Again, it set off warning bells in my head—it was something I’d seen the Quad do enough times to prevent anyone from sneaking up on them.

He didn’t look my way, but I still felt as if he studied me. He wore a pair of slacks and a dark gray button-up shirt, the sleeves undone and rolled up to his forearms. He certainly didn’t look like a student here.

I narrowed my eyes, wondering for a moment if Nem had lost her mind and hired a bodyguard for me. She’d threatened it enough times, but maybe she’d finally gone ahead?

If she had, she had another think coming. This man didn’t come close to blending in anywhere.

The elevator shuddered to a hard stop, causing me to lose my footing. I stumbled forward, sure I would end up face first against the floor.

Before I hit the ground, however, someone strong and hard caught me. I jerked my gaze up to find the man there, having moved so quickly and silently that it startled me, reminding me that I had no idea who he was beyond identifying him as dangerous.

“Thanks,” I whispered before pulling myself back together and stranding straight.

The man nodded and took a step backward.

“These elevators are always stopping.” A nervous little laugh escaped me. “When I first got here, I never took the elevator because it scared me, but now? I guess dying in a fiery crash is better than walking up all those flights of stairs.”

I cringed at my own words, the ones that escaped me in a rambling mess.

Worse, the man didn’t even try to respond. He turned his golden eyes to me, as if to acknowledge that he’d heard me, but he said nothing back.

I pressed my lips together instead of saying anything else and digging myself any deeper. Thankfully, the elevator shuddered to life again and started its crawl toward my floor. When it reached there, I hurried off with one more soft thanks to the mystery man before I escaped the humiliation.

Attendants packed the room by the time I arrived, but at least all the people meant I didn’t have to worry about anyone noticing how late I’d gotten there.

Of course, the full room confused me. The art department at my college hosted many artist meet-and-greets like this. They said that speaking to working artists was the best way to learn and gather information, so they’d host such events a few times a month. My professors always offered extra credit to go, and I sure needed that, so I always came.

However, it was usually just a few people and one artist questioning their decisions in life as they spoke to a mostly empty room.

This time, though, we had standing room only.

“Ms. Fox,” Grisham Oreando, my student advisor, said as he walked up to me.

“It’s still weird that you call me that while not letting me call you Mr. Oreando,” I pointed out and took a sip of my coffee.

“I dislike that name. It feels too distant. However, it’s a matter of basic manners to call a girl by her last name.” He offered me a familiar smile, the one that made us almost feel like friends rather than him just being my advisor.

“Why’s it so busy? Did Professor Calling offer extra credit or something?” She had made her lectures nearly impossible to pass, and she rarely offered extra credit. It was the only reason I could think that so many students would show, especially because I swore I spotted a few who never bothered coming to classes.

“You didn’t hear? Vance Moore is here.”

I twisted to cast a look of pure disbelief toward him. “Vance Moore? Are you kidding?”

“I am not. He rarely does these things, but I hear he was in town and contacted the school at the last minute to see if they might want him to speak.”

“I guess that explains all the girls here. They probably just want to get a glimpse of that playboy. I mean, is there a model he hasn’t bedded?”

Grisham chuckled softly. “I don’t disagree. However, if you want your extra credit, you should go sign in officially.”

“Fine,” I muttered. “I’ll go sign in then leave before I end up squished by the hordes of girls.” I offered a wave to Grisham before heading toward the back, where the table with the sign-in sheet sat. I didn’t expect to learn anything from some playboy artist who cared more about getting his paintbrush wet than actually drawing, but the day would be a waste if I didn’t at least sign in.

I set my coffee down beside the clipboard and exchanged it for a pen on a chain connected to the clipboard. Once I’d scrawled my name there and checked the professors whose classes I was taking, I picked my cup back up again and turned.

Only to find a wide chest before me, so close that I nearly ran right into him. I jerked backward, avoiding touching him, but I didn’t come out unscathed. The lid to my drink popped off and coffee spilled over the rim.

I hissed as the hot liquid touched my hand. More splashed onto my shirt, but that had more time to cool.

“Sorry,” the man muttered in a clipped tone as though I’d been at fault, then turned and walked off.

It left me staring at his back, glaring at the idiot. He’d stood close enough to me that he could have played the part of a train molester, but he acted as if it had been my fault?

He was tall and broad, with dark, neatly cut hair, which was the extent of what I could identify from the back. Well, he has a nice ass, too.

I grabbed a napkin and patted it against my shirt—not that it helped. It was like trying to soak up ocean waves with a handkerchief.

“Are you okay?” The masculine voice was almost lyrical. It sounded far too pretty for someone male and drew me to turn.

The face that stared back at me made me freeze in place.

Why was it that seeing celebrities in person felt so weird? I’d seen Vance Moore on TV plenty of times, in magazines and on internet sites. I could pick him out of a line-up with ease.

However, having him staring down at me with those familiar bright blue eyes rooted my feet in place, making me suddenly understand why so many women had come.

He pulled his lips into a smile, one that hinted at mischief. It reminded me that he’d asked if I was okay, and I had entirely missed that.

“Yeah,” I said, rushing the answer out as if to cover up my previous distraction. “No use in crying over spilled coffee, huh?”

His gaze dropped down my front as he lifted one of his blond eyebrows. He lowered his voice so it didn’t carry. “You know, you should consider changing.”

At that, I finally looked down to realize that, yeah, the coffee had managed to turn my previously cute white shirt entirely see through. It showed off the lace bra I had on, like the world’s worst wet T-shirt contest. “Just great,” I muttered, wishing I’d brought a jacket or something.

Vance slid off his jacket and draped it over my shoulders, the action smooth enough to tell me he’d done it plenty of times before. “Come on. I always bring some extra items when I’m speaking. They gave me a ready room just down the hallway.”

“No, it’s fine.” I tried to remove the coat, afraid to get it dirty. A man as rich as Vance no doubt had clothing worth a small fortune. I didn’t want to risk ruining the nice coat. “I’ll just go back to my apartment.”

“I insist.” Vance placed his arm around me to halt my objections and guided me back, toward the exit at the far end of the room. “I couldn’t in good conscience let a girl wander around with her shirt see-through. If someone attacked you, I’d never forgive myself. Please?”

It was the ‘please’ that got me. No one asked me anything in my life. Instead, people dictated to me, told me where I would go, what I would do. Sure, he was being pushy, but the please made it impossible to resist.

“Fine,” I muttered, giving in. I’d just have to keep my wits about me, because Vance was the exact sort of man I didn’t need interfering in my life.