Green-Eyed Monster (2 page)

Or maybe the turnover should have been immediate, was expected to be immediate. So immediate there would have been no need to feed, water, or toilet her captive.
Jesus, has something gone wrong already
? What happened to “all over in a few hours, tops”? She began to feel her initial worry rise, and with it, her panic. Her breath must have caught in her throat, for at once the voice reassured her.

“I’m gonna untie your wrists and guide you. We’ll go slow.  Just follow my directions.”

She was now almost certain this was the only bad guy.

Flexing and rotating her newly released fingers and wrists, she stood up cautiously, relieved to have no pins and needles, and no cramps. At least her captor knew how to tie a proper knot
.
Was she a sailor, or a trucker? Maybe a BDSMer? She mentally shook herself out of her semihysteria.

Her arms were drawn behind, and once more, her wrists bound together. She was pulled in close to her guide’s side until she could feel the crush of a soft breast against her shoulder. Yup, she was right. This was a tall one. The warmth of the connection contrasted with the chill in her body, reminding her again that the sun had long disappeared.

“Stay close. I’ll guide you.” The warm voice reverberated above her head. Then, a clichéd afterthought. “And no funny stuff.”

Yes, this whole affair was beginning to smack of rank amateurism, and that was very, very dangerous for her. She wasn’t sure how much control her abductor had over the situation. If the last twenty minutes were anything to go by, it seemed pretty tenuous. The sooner she gained some leverage with this person, the better. Situations like this were all about control. She had to wrest some away from this woman, and within the next twenty-four hours, for it to be effective.

She was carefully led across the floor to the connecting doorway. It took fifteen of her shorter steps, more confirmation her captor was indeed taller and with a much longer stride. When they entered what she assumed to be the kitchen, the wave of heat made her skin flush. Left turn, six of her strides to another door, moving from tiles to carpeting, five strides to the left and into a bathroom. The change in acoustics told her this. More tiles underfoot. They stood there awkwardly for several seconds. Now that they’d reached their destination, her captor seemed to have run out of steam.

Now what?
Now what indeed, she could almost hear the clunking rattle of her captor’s mind.
God, what an idiot. This just gets worse.

“Are you going to untie me?” Even as she asked, she could feel uncertainty oozing from the other woman.

“No,” came her answer. “You might tamper with the blindfold, and I don’t want you to see me.”

“I won’t touch it. Just free my hands so I can use the toilet.  Please.”

“No.” This time the voice was terse. She decided not to push it. They stood in silence.

“Are you going to help me, then?” Her own voice was tight, her face turned in the general direction of her companion. A touch on her shoulder gently guided her backward.

“The bowl is directly behind you.” Hands quickly popped her fly buttons, easing her Levi’s down to her knees. Tentative fingers fluttered on the elastic of her lace panties before lowering them, too. She felt her face burn. A hand held her shoulder and supported her as she clumsily sat down, leaning forward to awkwardly counterbalance her arms tied behind her. Her mortification was compounded a few minutes later as she heard the toilet tissue rip before its softness brushed against her, tidying her. “Up we come.” The voice was brusque and embarrassed.

She was pulled to her feet and her clothing rearranged.

Again, she felt like a small child, first spoon-fed, now potty trained.
Why is she putting us both through this embarrassment?

It’s excruciating. I hate it. It’s got to stop, somehow.

Leaving the bathroom, she was again guided out into the corridor. This time they turned away from where they’d originally come. She was being taken farther into the building. Good, another segment of the floor map could be pasted into her head.

Garage/utility, kitchen, corridor, bathroom. It was all building up nicely. If she ever got a run for it, she at least stood half a chance of finding an exit, blindfolded or not.

A door opened. She was maneuvered through and brought to a halt. Though still nervous and vulnerable on one level, on another, her intuition was feeding her courage and confidence.

Already, she had the measure of her captor, and this one was no professional. Perhaps she could work that to her own advantage; a lot depended on how the rest of the abduction played out. A speedy release was imperative. She needed to get out of here as soon as possible.

“You’ll sleep here. The gar—the other room is chilly.” She was nudged to sit on the edge of a bed. Her abductor moved away and she heard a drawer open, followed by the clinking of metal.

The ties were again undone, freeing her hands.

“Lie down.” She was pressed back onto the pillows. A click, and cold metal cuffed her wrists before her. Her arms were pulled over her head, and the cuffs were then looped to the railed headboard with rope, giving her some maneuverability, but not much. Next, she felt her sneakers and socks being peeled off and a blanket drawn up to her waist.

“Tell me why you’re doing this. Is it for money?”

“No.” The answer was quick and a little too sharp. Silence.

“Well, yeah. But only what’s mine.”

“What do you mean only what’s yours? Why have you brought me here? I don’t understand.”

“You don’t have to understand. All you have to do is exactly as you’re told. It’ll be over soon. I already started negotiations with your girlfriend.”

“My girlfriend? What’s she got to do with it? What’s going on here?”

“Yeah. It won’t be long till Victoria Gresham pays back what she owes me, and you’ll be free.”

She started in shock. The metal chain of the cuffs rattled.

Before she could even think to speak, she heard her abductor move toward the doorway.

“I’m leaving the door open. I’ll be down the hall. Call if you need anything.” Then she was gone with a soft, “Good night, Ginette.”

Eventually, she slept, which surprised her when she awakened later with her head still spinning. She thought she was going to scream with the frustration of it all but talked herself down from the precipice and focused instead on the information her captor had casually imparted. At least she now had an appreciation of the situation. The more she knew, the better chance she had of escaping. Maybe she could find a way to use her captor and get free.

“Good morning, Ginette. I got breakfast all ready. Come on.  Let’s do the bathroom thing first.”

The voice seemed more confident this morning. The cuffs were released from the bed and her wrists captured behind her back again. No shoes this time. Barefoot, she was led to the bathroom, the reverse direction confirming the floor map she was building in her mind. She was turned at the bowl. Her Levi’s buttons were opened, this time with more assurance.

“Do you have to humiliate me like this? Can’t you let me use the bathroom by myself?”

The bitch was beginning to get off on this now that the first-night nerves were over. It was essential to be firm but careful.

The next few hours were important. She would emerge as either the psychological victim or victor, and she knew which one she wanted to be. Even as the thought entered her head, she felt the hands on her hips hesitate. Her captor was obviously wavering.

Maybe she wasn’t so complacent with the situation after all.

“I suppose, but there’s rules. If I leave you alone, promise there’ll be no tampering with the blindfold, okay?” There was doubt in the question, so she nodded quickly to reassure. She was surprised that the woman had backed down in their first test of wills. No more humiliating nursemaid games.

“I mean it.” Her captor seemed to realize she’d shown weakness, growling, “You tamper, and it’ll be the sorriest thing you ever did. Got that?” A key click, and her hands were freed from the cuffs.

“Yes, no tampering.” Hopefully, that sounded cowed and obedient. “I understand. Thank you.”
Thank you for pretending I’m human, you bastard.

“Okay.” The voice withdrew toward the door. “I’m just outside. The tissue is beside you, the soap and towel by the basin.

And the window is wired shut. Don’t do anything stupid. I’m taking a big chance here, Ginette. Don’t let me down.” The door clicked shut, and her lunatic attacker did not seem to be lurking in the room to test her. When there was no sound for a minute or more, she pushed up a corner of the blindfold and saw a standard, nondescript bathroom. Sighing with relief, she tested the window. It was wired shut, as her abductor had promised, and if the view was any indication, they were in a cabin in the middle of nowhere. If she broke out, where the hell would she run?

She took a look inside the cabinet. Unfortunately, no Mace.

A roll-on deodorant. Maybe she could throw it at her captor’s head? Cotton balls, hand cream. Nail clippers. Forbidden in the cabin of a plane, so they had to be dangerous somehow?

She grimaced. Her humor was slipping as rapidly as her sanity, and her time was almost up. She closed the mirrored door and completed her bathroom business in double time, pulling the blindfold back into position before calling out, “Ready.”

“You tampered with this.” Angry fingers jerked the knot tighter.

“Ouch, you’re hurting me.”

“I told you not to touch it.” Her kidnapper sounded agitated.

“I dropped the soap and couldn’t find it. I had to take a peek. Look, I pulled it back into position. Believe me, I really don’t want to see you. I’ll have bad enough nightmares after this without your face being in them.”

The blindfold was tested with a rough pull that caught her hair. Her nerve began to falter. She couldn’t bear it if her captor was going to be sadistic. The freak could flip out and kill her at any moment, for all she knew.

“Please stop. Does it have to be so tight?”

“You have only yourself to blame,” her tormentor replied.

“I see. You’re getting off on this. It’s a power trip.” The words spilled out in a rush of fear and anger before she could censor them. She caught at her breath, terrified that her stress had caused such a dangerous outburst.

How were people supposed to behave in situations like this so they would survive? She was confident in dealing with most opponents, but some lunatic who’d snatched her from her own home? How could she relate to a mindset like that? She drew a steadying breath and tried to redirect her thoughts along a more positive track. Hey, she’d won the right to pee alone. That was major. And her abductor didn’t even seem to know she’d lost the first important skirmish.

When the hands returned, promising more pain, she said hastily, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.” Instead, a modicum of slack entered the blindfold knot, relieving the hateful pinching.

“The sooner you’re outta here, the better,” said her captor.

❖

Once she was seated in the kitchen, the aroma of fresh coffee and bacon felt comforting and lifted her spirits.

“Okay, Ginette. I got eggs, bacon, pancakes, or just cereal if you like? What’s it to be? What can I get you?”

“Your name would be good.” She took a chance.

“I can’t do that.”

“I need to call you something. White slaver? Human trafficker? How about Snatch?”

“How’s your headache? Do you need any painkillers?” Okay, so her attempts at humor were going to be ignored. Pity, people gave away so many clues through jocularity.

“You mean after you just hauled half my head off?” She decided to go for guilt, as humor wasn’t getting her any leverage.

It worked.

“Hey, I know you’re caught up in the middle of a bad situation. I know you’re completely innocent. I’m trying to make it as easy as I can for you.”

The defensive whine tinged with self-justification was infuriating. To hell with censorship, she wanted to rip the head off this mewling jerk. Didn’t she realize what she’d put her “victim” through? The shock, the stress, the sheer terror?

“You
kidnapped
me. How easy on me is that?”

“I already acknowledged you were innocent.”

“Innocent of what, for fuck’s sake?”

“Hey, watch your mouth. You can be gagged again.”

“Yes, threaten and bully me, you…you kidnapper. The least you can do is tell me why I’m here and how long until I can go free.”

Silence.

Shit. Had she pushed too far? Was the gag going to reappear?

That would be a total step backward. She crammed her rage back down, deep inside. Nobody, especially this incompetent amateur, was going to keep her there any longer than necessary.

“Mickey. Call me Mickey.” It seemed an impasse had been broken. Again, guilt seemed to be the trigger with Mickey. That was very useful to know.

“Thank you, Mickey. That wasn’t too hard, now was it?” Another victory. So what if it was a fake name? Given enough time, she could wrangle “Mickey’s” favorite grade school teacher out of her. The more Mickey talked, the more she revealed herself.

Her levels of competence were incredibly low for a felon. A smart captive could work her, unsettle her, then soothe her. Keep her off tilt and hope she spilled even more information.

“How long until I can go free?” she asked again.

“That depends on how quickly your girlfriend answers my demands,” Mickey replied.

“Which are?”

“None of your business.”

“Hey, you’re the one treating me like currency. The least you can do is tell me my market value.”

This time her outburst didn’t gain her anything.

“So what do you want for breakfast? I can make you some oatmeal if you want.”

“No. I’m on a hunger strike until you tell me why I’m here.” Just then her stomach growled like a grizzly.

“Humph.” She could hear humor buried deep in Mickey’s voice. “Wonder how that will go? Should be a long, hard fast.” She bristled with anger. “I mean it.”

“I’m sure you do. I really believe you’re one determined little lady. But trust me, the less you know, the better. I’m gonna have some bacon with my pancakes. And a fresh cup of coffee.  So if you’ll excuse me, I’ll just take you back to the chair in the gara—other room.”