Stockholm Syndrome (7 page)

“Yes, you can. Just relax, and it won’t be so bad. Don’t
fight it.”

He reversed the van out of the trees then drove along the
dirt road for about ten minutes before indicating and accelerating onto a
smooth surface, the highway, no doubt. As the van picked up speed, she wriggled
around until she maneuvered her head onto a pillow.

At last she found a less uncomfortable position, and settled
down to think about escape. He was very strong and she was no match for him
physically, but she was quite sure that she was the smarter one! He didn’t know
it yet, but he’d met his match.

Unfortunately Mason’s assessment of her situation was
accurate. Nobody would be looking for her for at least two weeks. She was on
leave from work and from the family counseling center where she volunteered on
Tuesday and Thursday evenings. She’d told all her friends and family not to
expect any calls or texts—she was heading off to Africa, to wild regions where
there was no mobile phone signal and no Internet.

When they finally realized she was missing, they’d have no
clue where to start looking for her. It wouldn’t take the police long to
determine that she’d never caught her flight to Tanzania, and they would soon
find out that she’d used her access card that night at the university, but
after that…

There was no logical explanation for her kidnapping, no
motive to provide any clues. It was a freak accident. And now Mason was taking
her far, far away from where it happened. Her trail would be long cold by the
time the search started, and would lead to a mystifying dead end. She had no
hope of rescue in the foreseeable future, unless she could save herself.

Feeling very brave and proud that she’d faced the reality of
her situation without crying or panicking, Evelyn turned her thoughts to her
captor.

What a mass of contradictions he was, filled with regret
about what had happened, yet ruthlessly determined to see through his crazy
plan of keeping her prisoner until he somehow convinced her not to turn him in
to the police. He’d openly admitted that he had no idea of how that was ever to
be achieved, but was sure he’d think of something. In the meantime, he was
adding to his list of crimes and inflaming her desire for revenge. Just look at
the undignified and uncomfortable way he’d trussed her up!

And speaking of inflaming desires, he wanted to fuck her. He
made no effort to hide it, the arrogant bastard! Though honestly, if she’d met
him under any other circumstances, she would have been so on board with that,
which was a huge issue in itself given that she’d sworn off men for life. God,
what a mess!

But she prided herself on her ability to solve problems, and
the dilemma in this case was clear. She had to persuade Mason that she wouldn’t
go to the police. And she’d have to be very, very convincing.

A plan formed in her mind. A risky, terrifying, audacious
plan. She wouldn’t even consider it if she could find another way. She needed
to see where he was taking her first, in the hope that there would be some
other option, but if not…

***

Mason negotiated the traffic of Rockhampton with care.
Evelyn was very quiet, but he doubted that she’d fallen asleep again. While he
was grateful that she wasn’t fighting with him, the silence made him uneasy.
What could she be thinking?

He considered what to do with her once they reached his
ranch. His plan, such as it was, was to treat her like a guest and get to know
her better. He hoped that she would likewise get to know him, and realize that
he was a decent guy.

If he could persuade her to accept money, his problems would
be over immediately, because if the police got involved, he could claim that
she agreed to sleep with him for payment, then changed her mind afterward. It
would be her word against his, but the transaction would support his claim. He
was man enough to admit that it felt like a cheap trick, but there were more
people involved, so he’d do it if he got the chance. But she’d refused his
offer of financial compensation, and he wondered if she’d guessed his strategy,
or if it was simply because of anger and hurt.

So unless she changed her mind, he was back to getting to
know her, and hoping that something would come up.

He snorted. Something was up and it wanted to get to know
her inside and out. But of course, that was the one thing he mustn’t do.

It was late afternoon when he turned into the long, winding
dirt road that was his driveway. He caught glimpses of the house through the
trees as he approached, a magnificent old Queenslander. He loved those flashes
of pale walls, the gray roof, and the crunch of gravel under the wheels as he
pulled up next to the kitchen door—the sights and sounds of home.

His Range Rover stood on the other side of the door, and as
he turned off the engine, Owen came out of the house.

“Brother, what the fuck took you so long? I’ve been here for
almost an hour!”

Mason arched an eyebrow at the van. A loud ticking noise was
emanating from the general vicinity of the engine. “Need you ask?”

“It’s just cooling off. You obviously don’t have the touch
for driving my old girl.”

“No I don’t. And I hope that I never have enough experience
to acquire it. The driver’s seat’s given me a backache!”

“My heart bleeds for you. Where’s Evelyn?”

“Tied up in the back. I’ll get her now.”

“She’s tied up in the back of my sleeper van?” Owen groaned.
“I’m not gonna fucking sleep tonight, picturing that!”

“Bugger off, you little perv!” snapped Mason, going ’round
to the back of the van. Owen had clearly recovered from his fright of the night
before and was back to his typical irreverent manner. “You will treat her with
nothing but respect. Make yourself useful and go ask Edna to put out some
snacks. All we’ve eaten is the junk you put in that Esky.”

“It’s already laid out on the deck,” said Owen smugly. “I
also told Edna and George they were done for the day and could go. Thought you
might like some privacy when you bring home the girl you kidnapped.”

“Piss off, Owen! This is not a joking matter.” Mason glared
ferociously and Owen retreated into the house.

“Caveman!” he taunted as he disappeared from view.

Muttering curses, Mason opened the doors.

“Let’s get you out of there.” He pulled Evelyn closer and
released the rope that bound her hands to her feet.

“About bloody well time!” With a pained groan, she slowly
straightened out. He started unraveling the restraints from her feet, relieved
that there was no bruising, just some dark-pink compression marks. He rubbed
her ankles and she kicked weakly at him.

“Get your hands off me, damn it! Untie my wrists.”

He undid the remaining bonds rapidly then stepped back to
allow her to get out of the van.

Her legs quaked. He took her arm to support her, tightening
his grip when she tried to shake off his hand.

“Don’t, you’ll fall.” He moved closer, slipping his arm
around her waist and pulling her against his side. “Come through to the deck.
You can sit down and have something to eat.”

They squeezed clumsily through the kitchen door in tandem,
and he led her across an enormous country-style kitchen and down a long, wide
hall with polished wooden floors and a lofty ceiling. She peered into rooms as
they passed on the left and right, getting a fleeting impression of a spacious
and comfortable home.

They crossed a large sitting room and went through some
wide-flung sliding doors onto an expansive deck. Evelyn gasped at the view.

Positioned on the brink of a hill, the house overlooked a
sweeping panorama of nature. A large lake, lined with trees, spread up to the
lawn turf, and horses grazed on the banks. Behind the lake, forested hills
stretched away as far as the eye could see.

“Welcome to Brady Ranch.”

Chapter Four

As far as prisons went, this was pretty classy, thought
Evelyn as Mason pulled out a chair for her and helped her sit down. Everything
was so huge—the view, the house, the deck, even this table! It was long enough
to seat a dozen people. One end was laden with food, and plates were set out
invitingly. Her mouth watered at the sight of the cheese selection and
crackers. There was also fruit salad, a cold meat platter, salmon spread, and
crusty white bread with butter. A jug of iced orange juice shed beads of
condensation, and a bottle of white wine wallowed in an ice bucket alongside
some glasses.

“Wine or juice, Evelyn?” asked Mason, handing her a plate.

“Both, please.”

He chuckled, and poured her drinks while she piled her plate
with food, then he and Owen dished up. They ate in silence for a few minutes.

She took a deep breath. There were things she needed to
know. Some of them she wanted to discuss with Mason in private, but there was
at least one thing that she could ask with Owen present.

“Mason, will you please explain what happened last night at
the university? You said that you were playing a game and you mistook me for
somebody else. I think I have the right to know how I ended up in this
situation.”

The brothers exchanged glances.

“Yeah, you do,” said Mason. He paused for a moment.

“Well, are you gonna tell her, or should I?” prompted Owen.

“You should go away!”

“Fuck that! I haven’t finished eating. Besides, I was there!”

Mason sighed and turned away from Owen. “Have you ever had a
rape fantasy, Evelyn?”

She choked and spluttered into her orange juice. “That’s
none of your business!”

He eyed her keenly. “Well, I think you have. I think you
know exactly what I’m talking about. Don’t look so shocked! It’s more common
than you’d think. And it doesn’t mean that you really want it to happen. It’s
only a fantasy, but it can be a very exciting and arousing one.”

Evelyn felt her cheeks blazing. She didn’t know what to say.
This was dangerous ground.

“Well, I… I’m taking postgrad psychology. I’ve encountered
the concept, of course.” She was babbling, and they both knew it. “There are
studies, you know. Statistics. But there are problems—”

Mason cut her off. “Let me put it in terms you might find a
little more…palatable, Evelyn. Maybe you’ve had fantasies about a man being so
crazy for your body, so out of his mind with desire for you, and you alone,
that he can’t restrain himself. Can’t hold himself back. So he takes what he
wants. He surrenders to the undeniable craving. To you…” His voice trailed off
in a low whisper. She stared at him, her heart pounding. Owen watched them with
an amused expression on his face.

Mason blinked and cleared his throat. “Anyway, every September
break, a game called The Chase is played at the university. It’s been going on
for years. A group of men and women get together and act out a rape fantasy.”

Evelyn gasped. “There were rumors about that! When I was
doing my undergrad studies there was a lot of talk about students getting
together to play some sex game, but we could never find out if it was true. I
never believed it personally.”

“Well, it
is
true. It’s a very well-kept secret, and
I’m surprised to hear that there were so much as rumors about it.”

“It was more like an urban legend. But nobody knew anything
solid. I haven’t even heard about it since I came back to study postgrad, but
then I don’t really socialize with the students.”

“Participation is highly exclusive. You have to be invited, and
the organizers are very careful about whom they ask. You’re not the type who
would have received an invitation.”

“Why not? What’s wrong with me?” She realized that she
sounded indignant and blushed.

“Nothing at all, but it’s obvious you’re an innocent.”

“I’m not innocent! I’ve been married, for goodness’ sake! I’m
not some blushing virgin!”

“Really? Then you won’t get embarrassed if I remind you how
I made you come with my mouth?”

Her wineglass went flying and shattered on the deck. She
wasn’t embarrassed. She was appalled. Her face burned and to her horror, her
pussy spasmed violently.

“I… I’ve had too much wine!” she blurted, distressed.

“No, you haven’t. You’re just a good girl. Has anyone ever
made you come like that before?”

She looked around in dismay, seeking an escape. Owen was
gone. She hadn’t noticed when he’d left, but she was profoundly grateful that
he had. Mason pursued the subject with the tenacity of a starving dog hanging
on to a bone.

“Tell me, Evelyn! Has anybody ever spread you open and
sucked and licked you ’til you came apart? Has any other man ever tasted you
there, and swallowed your juices? Has anyone ever told you how sweet you taste—sweet
and tangy? You’re completely addictive …”

“Stop! Oh god, please just
stop
!”

He hadn’t moved, but his eyes burned into hers across the
corner of the table. He was doing something to her, reminding her of the one
thing she’d resolved never to think about—her moment of greatest shame…and
greatest pleasure. She sank back into the cushion of her chair, shaking.

“That’s why you wouldn’t have been approached, Evelyn.
Whatever private fantasies you might have, you wouldn’t dream of really letting
a strange man hold you down and fuck you.” His voice dropped again, roughened. “That’s
what they do when they play The Chase. What
we
do. The men wear masks
and the women wear veils, at least until the game is underway. There’s no
pairing up with boyfriends and girlfriends. You might end up with somebody that
you know, but you probably won’t. And that’s what we want.”

“What do they do?” she whispered, repelled and fascinated at
the same time and wet between her legs. The combination of arousal and
embarrassment confused her.

“Do? Anything. Everything! The women run away, but they want
to be caught. They walk into dark places. They hide and scream, and sometimes
they fight us, but they want us to take control. It’s our will, our way.” He
held her pinned in his gaze.

“What I did to you was just a beginning, Evelyn. I could
sense your fear. I wondered if you were a first timer. I took it easy on you.”

She plunged back into the memory. He
had
been gentle,
with all the massaging and touching, and his lips on her breasts. Her nipples
tightened, and there was no way to hide it from him, braless as she was. His
eyes flicked down and back to hers, darkening. The air between them sizzled
with intensity.

She looked away first, unable to bear it. “Isn’t it risky?
What about STDs?” The tension was broken, replaced with an edgy sense of
stress.

“All right,” he said. “I’ll let you change the subject since
I wanted to talk to you about that anyway. From my side, you’ve got nothing to
worry about. I get tested often, and I’m healthy. You have my absolute
assurance.”

As if she’d been holding her breath for hours, Evelyn
exhaled in a long sigh.

His eyes were sympathetic. “You were worried about that?”

“Very. When I got divorced, it was because I caught my
husband cheating on me, with two women. He’d never been tested, and I was so
terrified that he might have passed something on to me that I had a test every
month for six months after we split. I was worried about window periods and
every time was awful, waiting in suspense for the results. I thought I was
going to have to go through it all again. You are sure…?”

“I’m not in a window period, Evelyn,” he said gently. “I’m
sorry you were so frightened. Until last night, I’ve only been with one person
for the last four years, and I always used condoms. It really is okay.”

“So you’ve got a girlfriend?”

“No. It’s just an arrangement. There are no strings
attached.”

“A four-year arrangement?”

“Yes, she’s married. And before you judge me, let me assure
you that I’m not in any danger of breaking up that family. If anything, I’m
helping. But I can walk away at any time.”

“Oh. So why didn’t you use a condom last night with me?”

“Believe me, I wish I had. But before any of the players can
join The Chase, they have to produce evidence that they tested clear for STDs
and the women have to be on birth control, so it’s a safe environment for play.
But those rules don’t apply to you, so I have to ask…could you be pregnant?”

She was tempted to keep him in suspense, to pay him back for
some of the anxiety he’d caused her, but his handsome face was tired and
concerned. She just didn’t have the heart.

“I won’t be pregnant. I’m on the pill.”

He leaned back in his chair and covered his eyes with his
forearm.

“Thank god,” he whispered. “I was more worried about that
than anything else.”

A moment later, he sat forward again. “Why are you on the
pill? Earlier you told me that you’re not having sex with anybody. Is there
something that you forgot to mention?”

“No. I’m on the pill because I travel a lot.”

He shrugged. “What’s traveling got to do with being on the
pill?”

She sighed. This was such a personal thing to discuss. In
all respects but one, Mason was a stranger to her. But he’d been honest with
her. She closed her eyes so that she didn’t have to look at him while she
explained.

“I use it to control when I get my period. I can delay it,
or even skip it if I’ve got a trip planned. I do a lot of hiking and physical
stuff, and I don’t want the inconvenience.”

“I didn’t know you could do that.”

“You’re not supposed to. It’s probably not great for my
health, but it’s just occasionally.”

“Well, whatever your reasons, I’m damn glad you’re on it.
But who do you do all this traveling with?”

“I go alone.”

He raised his eyebrows. “What,
always
?”

“I got married too young. I never had a chance to travel, or
do any of the things that I wanted to do, so after I got divorced, I decided to
remedy the situation.” She shouldn’t be telling him so much about herself, but
after the other intimate subjects they’d broached, it seemed pointless to be
cagey over discussing travel.

“Don’t you get lonely, or frightened?

“Yes, of course, sometimes. But I manage, and it’s always
been worth it. I’ve had some amazing experiences.”

The expression in his eyes resembled respect, or she hoped
it did, but he said no more. The silence grew uncomfortable.

He stood up abruptly, and she jumped at the scraping of his
chair on the wooden deck. “Shall I show you to your room now, Evelyn? You might
like to have a rest or a shower.”

She got to her feet. “Thank you, I’d like that.”

He led her through the cool interior of the house to a
beautiful bedroom with polished wood floors and a high, wood-beamed ceiling. A
fan stirred the air lazily above a green-quilted king-sized bed, and a pale-green
armchair stood in the corner next to the window, alongside a bookshelf crammed
with books, magazines, and interesting ornaments. A television mounted on the
wall opposite the bed, a chest of wooden drawers with a mirror, and a plush
woven rug on the floor completed the furnishings. Peering through another door
on the far side, she discovered a small en-suite bathroom with a shower.

“This is charming.”

“Good,” he said. “You should find everything you need in
here. Your backpack is over there, next to the bed. Dinner will be at seven. I’ll
see you then.”

“Okay.”

He paused at the door and removed the key. Then he closed it
behind him, and she heard him lock it. Her heart sank. They might be out in the
middle of nowhere, but he was taking no chances.

She checked the window to see if it offered any
possibilities for escape, but the house was raised high on wooden stumps on
that side. The ground fell sharply away toward the lake in a two-story drop.
The bathroom window was the same. There was no way to get out. She ran her
fingers through her hair, rubbing her scalp and neck, trying to ease the
tension in her muscles. It was looking more and more likely that she’d have to
resort to the desperate plan she’d thought of earlier, but she wasn’t quite
ready to give up on other avenues of escape yet.

She showered and washed her hair. She helped herself
liberally to wonderful, indulgent toiletries packed in the bathroom cupboard.
She dressed in another floppy white t-shirt and soft, gray leggings from her
backpack, comfortable clothes that she’d intended to sleep in on her trip. Her
hair hung loose over her shoulders in a mass of dark curls. The only shoes she
had were her trainers and hiking boots, and they were much too hot, so she
stayed barefoot.

Mason knocked on her door at precisely seven o’clock. “Are
you ready, Evelyn? Can I open the door?”

“Yeah, I’m ready.”

He turned the key in the lock and swung the door wide. They
stared at each other. He’d also showered, and his hair was still damp. It
looked as if he’d tried to brush it back out of his eyes, but it flopped over
his forehead already, obviously annoying him. Dark stubble shaded his cheeks
and framed his taut, sexy lips. He wore board shorts, black with white
scribbles all over them, and a black vest that revealed his powerful arms. Just
visible above the neckline of the vest, she saw the start of the line between
his pecs below the sinewy muscles of his neck. She moistened her lips with the
tip of her tongue.

He was barefoot, like her, and his calves were powerful and
well developed. She couldn’t help but compare him to her ex-husband, Joel, who
had such spindly legs because he only worked on his upper body at the gym.
There was nothing disproportional about Mason Brady. He was big, strong, and
muscular everywhere.

She flushed hotly. Damn, she’d been gaping at him like an
idiot for at least a minute. And she just hated how she blushed so easily!