Chapter 3 #2
When I kick at him, I’m jerked backward then jammed over the arm of the nearest sofa.
Loxland leans down, and the asshole supreme’s face comes into view to my right.
Though I’m struggling, the stranger’s weight has me squashed to the armrest almost immovably.
I snort out my anger and glare from where I’m pinned with the side of my face jammed on the cushions.
“She can breathe.” He eyes me a second longer. “Fasten her to the chair, please. We aren’t going to hurt you, Juniper. Make sure that’s true, Tomás.” The man holding me, Tomás, grunts. I hope that is a yes.
My hands are cuffed behind me while I’m still bent forward then I’m dragged to the chair.
“Mmmph!” If that doesn’t help me, so be it. The following “Mmummfff?!” translates as what the fuck, though I doubt they got that either.
My neck is caught loosely in a loop of leather belt and tied somehow at the back of the chair—the buckle digs into my nape—and my ankles are zip tied to the front chair legs.
I’m breathing so hard that snot is ready to dribble out any second.
I need to breathe, though, and I close my eyes, trying to act less overwhelmed, trying to calm myself. I need to breathe.
When I open my eyes again, winding down some more, because there is nowhere to go, the asshole stares at me from the opposite armchair. His blond hair flops over his eyes as he leans forward, with his long-fingered hands clasped between his knees.
What are they planning to do with me? That question is on a loop.
“Let me stress that I won’t do anything to you that you haven’t agreed to.” Now he smiles. Fuck him. “I know you murdered Nathan, and I plan to help you if you let me.”
Oh crap, oh crap. He knows? How? As if him knowing that makes this worse.
I keep glaring. Help me? Sure you are. I have no idea where this is going, but it cannot be good.
I’m sorry, Riley. I tried.
“You cannot call to anyone. Screaming will get you nowhere. This house has no neighbors close enough, and I’ve tested it for soundproofing. So.” He claps his hands. “We are going to remove the tape from your mouth. If you scream, I’ll have it replaced with a smaller gag. Got that?” He waits.
Reluctantly, I nod.
“Good. Tomás?”
The man reaches around me and slowly peels away the tape. It stings but I only lick my lips and inhale, exhale, and stare back at Loxland.
“You still don’t remember me? Ten years ago I was a teacher.”
Loxland… Mr. Loxland. Oh my god. Him? I can feel my eyes wedging open for far too long. “You!”
“Yes. Me. So now we are even. I know you murdered a man, and you remember me.”
I shrug. “So? You made a mistake. If I report you as assaulting me and this.” I lift a shoulder. The cuffs on my wrists, where they are stuck behind my back, dig into my skin. “And him too. You both want that on your record?”
He only raises his eyebrows. Somehow, I feel a threat emanating from the stranger at that suggestion of mine. It’s impossible to feel threats… Isn’t it?
No one is talking. I press my lips together.
We both know Loxland can deny it, or say he had to do this because I was violent. That’s assuming he lets me go. Have to admit, if I ever confront a murderer, I would be tempted to tie them up before I chat to them. ’Cause, well, they’re dangerous. Me, Danger Woman.
And he might not, ever, let me go. How does he know what I did?
“How?”
“How did I see what you did? My secret, for now.”
I swallow, thinking, trying to see a plus in this. My heart is still flailing away, begging me to find an answer. I’m panicking in silence. I’m at their mercy, and he wants something. He. Wants. Something.
He’s still waiting, patient as a pig in mud.
“What do you want from me?”
“You. I want you.”
He’s a man, so his answer is not totally surprising. Except, he has me already.
Am I fucked? He just wants to do what they did to Riley…or not.
I guess I look puzzled.
“I told you I won’t ask for anything you don’t agree to.
I want you. I want to do things to you but with your permission.
Things that might seem unusual. That said, if you say yes to me now, I’ll take it as permission for anything I want.
Anything. Got that? I might hurt you, but won’t harm you irreversibly, unless you ask for that. ”
“Why the fuck would I—”
“Ask for that? Some like to be branded or pierced and stitched. Kinky shit.” His smile hardens. “In return, because I know this agreement may seem wronger as time passes…”
Wronger. I snort, smile back. Smiling says I have power, right?
“In return, I will help you find those other two men. As will Tomás.”
“Oh.” Oh crap. Oh to every-fucking-thing. My mouth has stayed open, and I shut it. It’s a shock even after all he’s done, that he knows this detail. I was thinking it was him. That he was one of them. Now it seems not.
He was my math teacher, a substitute one. Ten whole years ago, for a few weeks or maybe a month. Can I trust him? Can anyone trust anyone that’s into math?
That’s an inner joke and my god, it’s ridiculous what my life is doing to me.
He wants permission for almost any damn thing.
I don’t know this man other than what he has said to me and done. I risk everything pointing out the flaws, but I’m going to do it because I need this to make sense.
Same as me clobbering Nathan with a shovel. I just need to. I need his answer.
“It doesn’t add up…even for a math teacher.” I shake my head, as if to take the sting from that. “You are willing to risk prosecution for aiding a murderer in return for me agreeing to…kink?”
He eyes me for a while then puffs out his cheeks. He shrugs. “You’re right. I should just give you to the cops.”
Panic returns. “No! No. Wait. I’m lost here.
” I duck my head, stare at the floor. And I’m tied up, and really what am I doing?
If I say yes, and he means to kill me or something, then he would’ve done it anyway.
Never mind what I say. If he gets some giggles out of me saying yes, how would that matter?
It wouldn’t. Not at all.
And if he is telling the truth? Why though? It’s still crazy.
Two men cannot both be crazy? Oh yes, they can.
I’m frowning at the floor. “Do you even know why you want me saying yes to this?”
He sighs deeply. “You love pushing buttons, don’t you? But maybe that’s why I want you. How many women would kill a man with a shovel, two years after they raped their friend? If I’m not making sense—”
“Okay.” He doesn’t know why, does he? I raise my head, wincing at what I’m going to say. “I will agree to this.” I swallow. “For now. I can back out later?”
God, I hope this man is truthful.
“You can, but I will then say I discovered your crime, and I will report you, and hold you for them even.”
That’s a killer exit clause.
He places his index finger under his nose, evenly dividing his mouth. “I need a test first. I need to see you can obey me. Considering what you’ve already done for money, for strangers on the internet, this should be easy. Untie her ankles, Tomás.”
He walks around me and studies me for a few seconds. I’m holding my breath. Aaron is weird, and I cannot figure him out, but this man…he is dangerous. He also has a hard-on under those pants that’s almost in my face. A black pocket-knife appears in his hand that he clicks open. The blade shines.
I shrink backward.
Without saying a word, he bends over and kisses my forehead then goes to one knee. While holding each ankle in turn, maybe to stop me kicking him, he cuts the zip ties. The grip of his hand about each ankle echoes on my skin like a ghost hand even after he’s climbed to his feet.
By the time he returns to his place behind me, I swear my blood pressure has risen to the skies.
“Spread your legs wide, girl,” Aaron says.