His Captive Bride by Suzanne Steele Page A

a cockroach make its way up the baseboard.
     
     

                        Ros a’s demeanor totally changes as she shuts the door and glares at her three year old daughter. “Yeah, you just keep hugging her and being nice, so that we got groceries coming in. I ain’t got time, or money, to be buying you all of the fancy stuff that she brings. Bitch ain’t no better than nobody else! Miss high and mighty ain’t no better than me, or nobody else living up in here.”
    The sting of Precio sa’s Mother’s words hurt less, as she grips the doll that has quickly become her new friend…
                                                                                      
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     

     
        “The guy is weird! I mean seriously, you need to report him.”
    That got my attention! “Back off Gus, I’m a big girl!”
    I mean seriously, how do I condone the fact that this ’stalker’ is getting to me? I can’t help but wonder who would protect a man that was stalking them? I can’t shake the way that he makes me feel. Just the way that he looks at me as if he knows something about me; something that even I don’t know. Maybe he does, maybe he sees something deep inside of me. Something that is so deep within the core of my being that I can’t even see it. Maybe it’s something that hasn’t risen to the surface yet. Maybe I’m just letting my imagination get the best of me.
                    Gus sighed as he watched Mandissa go back to going through e-mails on her tablet. Most of his colleagues did that on their cell phones but Mandissa, was all about the tablet. The rest of the ride back to the station would be carried on in silence.
                                                                                     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     

Chapter Two
     
                  Drake plopped his biker boots up on his coffee table. He liked his mahogany antique coffee table. He had purchased it in a thrift store and re-furbished it. Not because he had to—but because he wanted to. He was a freelance photographer and he was in high demand. He lived quite well in his chosen profession. He had opted for a high rise one bedroom apt in the yuppy end of downtown. He had only rented it to stalk his prey—stalk—until he was successful with the plans that he had. And Drake was always successful with his plans. To put it simply, Drake always got what he wanted.
    He was n’t the least bit concerned about what people’s opinions were and the fact that he was underestimated by those who did not know him didn’t bother him a bit. If the truth were known, he used it to his advantage. He was able to fit right in with all of those neighborhoods that his bleeding heart obsession liked to go to.
    It’ s a good thing that I am stalking you girl. God knows the volunteers that you bring are useless as far as protection is concerned.
    She probably thinks that I’m some juvenile delinquent , but she wouldn’t even care. She sure isn’t like the rest of these stuck-up bitches that I deal with. Models and celebrities with unattainable demands that they make up as they go along; demands that feed into their lofty egos. Mandissa would probably try to feed me. Mm, that’s a thought; I would love to eat her up from the top of her head, right down to the bottom of those perfectly manicured toes of hers that wiggle around in those four inch heels she wears.
          “Oh yes, little lady, now that pic came out nice.” Drake eyed the computer screen as he spoke aloud to himself. “I do love those unsuspecting shots that I get of you. You have no idea that I’m taking your photo, do you? But then again………. there are times that I know that you