51. Anything but That
anything but that
. . .
Sadie
Sadie’s Guide to Hostage-Taking Being Taken Hostage Forming a Partnership with Your Hostage Embracing the Hostage Lifestyle Not Freaking Out Escaping Being Taken Hostage (Again), Tip #31: Just because YOU are opposed to torturing your hostages doesn’t mean all hostage-takers are. It helps to keep in mind you’re more useful to them alive.
At least, I hope that helps.
One second, Fessy had been threatening to smother me with duct tape. Then the next, Zain stormed into the room like a crazed barbarian out for blood.
He charged at me without a moment of hesitation, and I saw my short—yet joyful and love-filled—life flash before my eyes as I braced myself against the chair.
When he reached me, he grabbed my jaw tight enough that I whimpered—jerking my chin until I was looking into his furious gaze.
But it was the knife he wielded that stole my breath.
Fessy hastily tottered over on his crutches. “Bro, what the heck are you doing?”
Zain ignored him and kept a firm grip on my jaw as he lifted the knife toward my chest.
Oh no .
This was taking a turn from very bad to potentially catastrophic.
“Oh god. Oh god. Oh god,” I chanted as he moved the weapon closer to my breast. My heart pounded against my rib cage hard enough that my head swam. This was my worst fear coming to life. “Please don’t cut off my nipples!”
The sharp blade froze a hair’s breadth from the fabric of my shirt, and Zain’s dark gaze flicked up to mine. “…What?”
Each breath felt like it was ripped out of me.
“I have a phobia of someone cutting off my nipples and eyelids. Please, anything but that!” I cried, trying to suck in my chest while pulling harder against the stubborn ropes around my wrists—but the knots were impressively tight. If the Ali brothers hadn’t already chosen a life of crime, their knot-tying skills would’ve given them a leg up as Boy Scouts. “I’ll tell you whatever you want to know. You want my peanut butter dog treat recipe? It’s yours. Code to the shelter’s medicine supply? Eight-Four-Nine-Zero-Two. Just please don’t chop off my?—”
“ Stop . Talking .” He swiped downward, and the knife sliced through the front of my shirt like butter, making me stiffen with an undignified squeak. The ruined shirt gaped open, leaving only one final barrier between me and these hooligans—my pink demi bra with cartoon cupcakes.
At least Davian had chosen a cute one.
“I’m making sure you’re not wired, you moron,” Zain grumbled, acting like I was the one pushing the boundaries of acceptable hostage-situation behavior. “Something that should’ve been done before loading you into the car.”
The last bit was barked at Fessy, whose brows pulled together. “No one told me to do that.”
My chest heaved with uneven breaths, but relief had me slumping back in the chair as Zain let go of my jaw.
My nipples were safe.
“Oh. Okay.” Though I wasn’t sure why he thought I’d be wearing a wire. Did Zain think I was a spy going undercover to infiltrate Davian’s compound? I mustered a shaky smile, all too aware how much skin was on display now. “See? No wire here. Just a cute bra I got on sale at that boutique downtown that has the pink churro stand out front. Best churros in the city.”
When Zain’s only response was a twitch of his left eyebrow, I looked down again at my bra and all the cleavage on display, then swallowed. “But, um… if it’s all right with you, I’d prefer to keep my bra on. It’s embarrassing enough that I’m not wearing any underwear.”
Zain’s continued blank stare warned me—once again—that it was time to shut up.
He glanced down at my lap before frowning at Fessy. “You’re positive this is the girl Reed’s screwing?”
“Hey, we are not screwing .” My cheeks must’ve been bright scarlet as I shifted in the seat. “I mean, sure, there were some close calls… Not that my sex life is any of your business.”
But Fessy ignored me and nodded. “It’s her. They were all over each other. He even came to my headquarters to get the mutt back for her.”
“Could everyone please stop calling Bear names?” I muttered.
A quick rapping on the door made all three of us stiffen before a stout middle-aged man poked his head inside. His gaze went straight to Zain, not even acknowledging me tied to a chair in the middle of the room. “I sent the link to Reed. The call starts in a few minutes.”
I perked up. A call with Davian sounded promising. He would know what to do.
“Good work, Nasir. Get everything set up,” Zain ordered. “And there was no wire under her shirt. Could something fit inside a bra?”
Nasir finally acknowledged my existence. He eyed my bra with a measuring look that wasn’t at all leering, while rubbing a hand over his thick beard. “It’s possible, depending on how sophisticated Reed’s bugs are.”
The other two followed his lead and stared at my bra, lingering a little longer than necessary.
But no way was I letting them take off any more of my clothes.
“Hey. Buddy.” I snapped my fingers at Zain, grateful to have at least that much movement with my wrists tied. “This is getting weird. Let’s all just keep the rest of our clothes on, okay? You can play your little fetish games later?—”
“It’s not a fetish game, you freak.” Zain’s withering glare and the tension in his shoulders told me he regretted not getting that duct tape. “It’s payback.”
He jabbed a finger at me—bringing the knife blade dangerously close to my chest again—and I squeaked in fright, sucking in my torso as best I could.
“Are you serious?” Zain’s nostrils flared. “I didn’t even touch you.”
I shuddered, leaning as far from him as I could with my bindings. “I’m sorry, but I can’t stop thinking about you cutting off my nipples. Whatever happens, can you just promise you won’t do that? Anything but that.”
When Zain only stared down at me, Fessy coughed lightly. “It’s a really dumb move to tell us your weaknesses.”
“I don’t care! I’m already freaking out at the possibility. Please promise?”
The brothers exchanged a glance, which led to Fessy shrugging.
“Fine. Whatever,” Zain muttered, lowering his weapon. “We promise not to cut off your nipples.”
Exhaling, I slouched against the chair. “Thank you. That’s all I ask.”
He frowned, seeming to regret agreeing so quickly.
“But that doesn’t mean we won’t do other things if you and Reed don’t cooperate,” he warned, voice guttural, his patience thinning. “Painful things.”
My answering nod was grim as my heartbeat returned to a normal rate. “I understand.”
“C’mon, Zain. We won’t actually hurt her, will we?” Fessy looked between both of us, fingertips rapidly tapping his thigh. “Reed shot me just for talking to her. Imagine what he’ll do if we?—”
“Shut up!” Zain rounded on his brother, shoving a finger into his face—sans knife this time, I noted. “Question me in front of her again, and she won’t be the only one worried about chopped-off nipples.”
“Dude—”
“Either get on board or get out, Fes.”
Fessy chose to get on board, and he slowly retreated to the corner to lick his wounds.
To distract myself, I watched as Nasir lugged a folding card table and a laptop into the room. He set them up in front of my torture chair and hooked up a few other devices to the computer.
“Well, this looks official,” I muttered, eyeing the fancy equipment.
Once the laptop was open and facing me, Nasir held out a long, thin handheld device to Zain. “Use this to check her for a wire.”
Zain wordlessly took the wand and waved it in front of my bra like a seasoned magician. When the device didn’t beep, Zain returned the wand to Nasir without another word.
No apology. No offer to reimburse me for the ruined shirt. Nothing.
I blinked at his back, thoroughly unamused. “…You couldn’t have done that before destroying one of my favorite shirts?”
Zain was no longer acknowledging my existence, instead watching as Nasir hunched over the laptop and typed a stream of commands before straightening. “You’re good to go, boss. It’ll start as soon as Reed joins the call.”
“And there’s no way Reed can trace it?” Zain asked, giving me a sliver of hope. Was Davian capable of something like that?
“None,” Nasir confirmed, making me slump back against the chair. “The signal is encrypted.”
“Good. Go wait out in the hallway.”
While Zain got into place beside me, I eyed the laptop. A little rectangle in the corner of the screen showed Zain fussing with his hair, Fessy hiding in the corner, and me sitting half-naked and tied to a chair.
Turned out, I’d been right about not wanting to know what my hair looked like.
“You keep your mouth shut and let us do all the talking,” Zain warned me while straightening his sleeves. “Understood?”
Like the good girl Davian claimed I was, I pressed my lips together and nodded obediently. Whatever got me out of here alive.
“Bro, wait.” Fessy waved a hand in my direction. “It’s a video call. We can’t join with her shirt ripped like that.”
I glanced down at my exposed cleavage, silently agreeing. It wasn’t anything Davian hadn’t seen before, but I didn’t usually make a habit of publicly prancing around in my underwear.
Or lack thereof.
Zain mumbled a few choice words under his breath and looked over the room. He zeroed in on the futon and snapped his fingers. “Grab that blanket. Hurry.”
I watched in horror as Fessy grabbed a nasty tattered brown blanket and shook off the rusty nails that’d been on top before limping over to me.
But I didn’t want that horror show anywhere near my delicate skin. “Wait, maybe there’s a clean shirt I could borrow instead?—”
“Remember the duct tape,” he hissed, and I snapped my mouth shut again.
Fessy draped the blanket over my front just in time for the laptop to ding, and it couldn’t have been a closer call if he’d tried.
Because Davian’s handsome face had popped up on the screen—stealing all our attention and making me forget all about the itchy blanket when his glacial gaze collided with mine.
I gulped.
He did not look happy.