A Captive Situation (Kings of New York)

I was riding the subway in New York City for the first time, and a part of me was hoping the passengers around me would start singing The Lion King’s “Circle of Life.”

Logically, I’m sure that rarely happened, but if there was a chance? I was down for it.

Hear me, Universe. Broadway rendition of any song. I’m not picky.

I waited, looking around. There were some people passed out. A bunch of college students. Other workers. I leaned back, eyeing a group of athletic-looking people. They looked like they could be dancers. Broadway dancers?

I was hoping for it, but then the next stop happened and they got off.

Okay. I deflated.

Maybe not.noveldrama

The last guy I was holding out for was scowling to himself and was fixated on his phone. He had the build. Broad shoulders. He wasn’t slim, or he didn’t seem like it as he was sitting, but he had the looks. And by that I meant that he was hot. Super hot. He was solidly built. There was no excess weight on him. All muscle. Fierce eyes. A clenched jawline. Leather jacket, black Henley, and jeans. Dark hair that was cut short on the sides and left with enough to grab a hold of on top.

He looked as if he could handle himself in a fight, and in my mind, that meant he was made for Broadway.

His energy was all off, though. He seemed all growly, not as though he was ready to burst into song. Perhaps he was the Beast? Or no . . . Gaston?

No. Gaston didn’t seem to fit either. Total Beast.

His phone buzzed and he answered it, turning away. I couldn’t make out his words, but his very gravelly and pissed-off clipped tones were now about to segue into the beginning of “Seasons of Love.”

I was waiting.

Expecting.

Sigh.

It wasn’t going to happen.

My phone buzzed at that moment, too, and I checked my text.

Mom: Hi honey! How is New York? Are you safe? Did you see the Wall Street bull yet? I know you were so excited to check it out.

My mom was under the impression I was here as a tourist. Which I was. I had an entire tourist checklist of things to do: See a Broadway show, go to a museum, maybe go nuts and eat at some fancy restaurant that only New York City seemed to have. I wanted to go to Ellis Island, tour the Statue of Liberty, find out what this Canal Street was all about. Then there was Times Square, though I was a bit iffy on this naked cowboy character.

The other reason I was here in New York and not back home was because of just that, I would not be back home. So since I was avoiding anything and everything that reminded me of Montana, I was going to skip seeing this cowboy person, naked or not. We had enough cowboys back home.

Another item I wanted to check off my list was to meet my cousin. I’d met his sisters a few times. They lived a few hours away, but not Graham. That was going to change on this trip. My mom was close to two of my aunts, but there was a rift between the three of them and Graham’s mom. I’d asked my mom what the issue was, but she never gave me a great answer. She liked to deflect. So while I was here, I was taking things into my own hands.

I’d cyberstalked Graham and he looked awesome. He was adopted, he and his two sisters. He was an architect. He had a husband. He liked to travel. I could get so many great tips on being the ultimate tourist from him.

I was hoping when I met Graham, and when he fell in awesome cousin love with me, that we could conspire on how to bring the sisters together.

That was the secret mission. That, and the whole “not being at home” because this was also the week that I was supposed to be getting married.

But I wasn’t, because Beck dumped me.

Beck, the same guy that I’d been with since college.

The same guy that I helped put through chiropractic school.

The same guy that wanted me to quit the receptionist job I loved to work for him, which I did.

The same guy that I gave almost two decades of my life. We’d been engaged for the last two years, but then he decided to fill me in on a simple thing where he’d been cheating on me for the last three years. And that they were having a child.

He and Manda.

And that person he was cheating on me with—Manda—was my best friend from college.

I was about to lose it. This was what happened when I let myself ruminate.

There were thoughts.

And feelings.

And anger. Lots and lots of anger.

I couldn’t let myself think about it, because if I did, then I was going to lose my mind.

If that happened, there was a chance I’d start hyperventilating. That could lead to other unhinged hysteria, and then who knew what kind of handcuffs I’d end up in at the end of that adventure?

There was also the possibility that I was having a slight midlife crisis.

I was four years away from turning forty, and yep . . . I could feel the hysteria coming on. Though, the hysteria wasn’t about my age, it was about the reason I was not in Montana this week.

Which I couldn’t focus on at the moment.

The scowly guy, who still hadn’t broken into any Beauty and the Beast Broadway songs, glanced my way. His mouth was pressed in a tight line as he was eyeing me.

Right. I was breathing pretty loudly and thinking about the ex.

“Woman.” It was the scowling guy. He leaned forward. His jacket fell open, showing a gun holstered on his hip. “What the fuck’s wrong with you? You need an ambulance or something?”

An ambulance?

I hadn’t heard him right. I couldn’t have. Leaning toward him, I hissed, “Excuse me?”

His eyelid twitched as he ran his gaze over me, lingering on my legs before dipping back up to my mouth. It jerked up to my gaze, and his scowl just doubled. “You look like you’re about to pass out. Are you? If so, I gotta call for an ambo.”

I didn’t know if I should be flattered at the concern, though he was not coming off like he was in the least bit concerned about me. He seemed irritated, like I was the last thing he wanted to deal with, and at that thought, I straightened in my seat, deciding to be insulted. “You think I’m going to pass out because of why? I’m breathing harshly? I’m so sorry. Did I interrupt your phone call because I was just sitting here, minding my own business? Was I not quiet enough as I was thinking about my—well, it’s none of your business what I was thinking about, but was I not quiet enough? You want me to be more silently angry? Sure. Totally. I’ll be like a statue as I’m processing my own shit here, or can I not have feelings either? Is there a certain way I’m supposed to breathe while I feel things, sir?”

A part of me was wincing at my snark, but there was a whole side of me that did not care.

I stared at him, hotly.

He glared back, but his dark eyes cooled dramatically. He’d been pissed off before, but now he was downright like ice. “If you need medical assistance, I’m obliged to provide it for you.”

Obliged?

I skewered him with a look. I had no idea how to respond to that.

“Ma’am.” The train was coming to a stop, and he stood once it did. He clipped out, “Do you need medical help?”

He took one step toward me, looming over me. That scowl hadn’t lessened or deepened. I was thinking it was permanently fixed on his face. He had resting scowling face. RSF.

“Why are you so fixated on me? Go away. Focus on someone else.” I gestured to a guy who was stretched out and sleeping on the other side of us. “He’s passed out. Why aren’t you asking him if he needs EMTs or not?”

The sleeping guy opened his eyes and lifted his gaze. His legs had been stretched out, his ankles crossed over one another, and he had his arms crossed over his chest. He looked relaxed. “Huh?” he asked now, frowning.

“Go back to sleep, Miguel.” The scowling guy jerked in his direction.

“Oh. Okay.” He closed his eyes and laid his head back down.

Great. Lovely. They knew each other.

The doors slid open. People were spilling out.

Now I was scowling, and I stood up. Lifting up my arm, I grabbed the same pole he was holding on to. “I’m fine. No. I do not need medical assistan—”

I cut myself off because he wasn’t looking at me anymore. His eyes were trained over my shoulder.

People were coming in, filling up the emptied spots, but suddenly a woman screamed. A guy shouted, and the scowling guy yelled right next to my ear, “Marcus Easter, stop!”

He cursed under his breath and shoved past me.

I got whiplash. He moved so fast. Twisting around, I saw a guy run off the train and toward the stairs. Scowling Hot Guy was fast behind him.

They were soon gone from eyesight, and I frowned. That was all . . . I didn’t even know what that was.

Miguel was sitting up, yawning.

I asked him, “Does that happen a lot here?”

He snorted before giving me a lopsided grin, scratching his head. “Nah. That’s just Shorty. I wonder what he did this time.”

I sat down, a little dazed. The train started again, and I groaned.

That’d been my stop.