Taken
Cold air slid down her aching throat.
Wait, pain… That’s good. Pain means… I’m alive. Someone found me in time.
Her eyes shot open.
Darkness. She wasn’t in a hospital bed, and there was no nurse telling her that she was safe. But if no one had found her, that could only mean… she was dead. A low rhythmical hum purred in her ears. Light snapped over her.
Again. Again.
She shut her eyes against the invasive flashes. Maybe this was heaven, and the hum was the escalator to that Godly place. But the intense pressure pushing down on her throat told her heaven wasn’t her current destination, and that she hadn’t imagined the death of her foster family.
She blinked, something hovered above her. Kate reached out to touch it… only to have something yank her wrist back, biting deep into her chafed skin.
“Good to see you’re back in the land of the living.”
She flinched. The last time she heard that voice… the owner had been right beside her ear, muttering an apology while his arm had been squeezing the life out of her. How then… was she still drawing breath?
He kidnapped me…
The slight rocking of her body, the lights… a vehicle.
She’d been dumped in the backseat of a car.
Kate pushed up, the warm, fuzzy blanket that had been draped over her pooled together in her lap. In a flash of light she saw it, a thin strap of rope.
He tied me up.
Her heart squeezed tight, like a stress ball in an anxious person’s hand.
Breathe Katie. Not now.
Drawing in a choking breath, she raised her gaze to the mirror.
Green eyes stared right back at hers, she flinched back in her seat.
He left her alive. Even though she’d felt herself slip.
Darkness taking a hold. Maybe that… was what got him off.
Letting people slip off to death, only to tug them right back before its embrace lasted forever. Twice. She’d nearly died twice.
Her heartbeat climbed.
No… Deep breaths. You’re alive. Gather info, look at your surroundings. What do you see?
A man in front of her. Mid thirties, if she were to guess by the small lines etched on his face, which multiplied generously next to his eyes and the corners of his mouth. Probably caused by his sadistic sarcasm.
Her gaze trailed over his back, easily filling the driver’s seat. The muscles in his arm moved in tune with his tapping fingers as he steered them over the two lane highway.
A man in the glory of his life. The overwhelming strength he held had been her downfall, she could see why.
Phantom fingers pressed over her injured throat, pinching her airway.
Tighter. Tighter.
A panic attack isn’t going to help. Breathe!
But logic, it mingled with urgency, battering her mind.
Out, I need out.
The rope groaned under her wriggling fingers. There it was… the pins prickling in her hands and feet.
A final warning.
“Would you be more… comfortable,” Her focus snapped to him, eyes blurry. “If I took those off?”
It took everything within her not to beg for her release. Instead, she nodded. The movement small, but telling enough.
The car slowed, gravel crunching as he steered them to the hard shoulder. Kate blinked through the haze threatening to engulf her, watching as he pulled on the parking brake.
They were at a standstill. A wide field to her right, open, inviting.
Opposing lanes on her left, yellow lights from the occasional car passing.
Wasn’t there some sort of child safety, possibly keeping her from running off into the brush?
“Turn for me.”
She did.
It didn’t matter that her back was now fully exposed to him. No.
Everything was better than this, small spaces and movement being… limited.
A nightmare her kidnapper shouldn’t know about.
She rolled her eyes. Angry with herself.
Good luck with that. You basically offered him that information on a silver platter.
The click of a knife made her breath hitch. “Stay still.”
It was the only warning she got, before his fingers brushed over her wrist, warm… unhurried. No gloves covering them this time.
The blade sawed through the thin strap with care, the blunt side cool against her skin. She shivered, the chill of night seeping in now the blanket had slipped off.
In seconds her binds fell away.
Free at last. Well… sort of.
There was still the whole being in a car with the man that tried to kill me… twice. No pressure though.
Turning in her seat, she expected him to have backed away, instead, his eyes found hers easily, breath skimming over her face. Too close. All she wanted to do was curl up and sink in her seat, scratch that. To jump out of his car and run, run until her feet found safety.
But she didn’t back away, the relief of free movement strengthening her mind.
Show no fear. Take control.
Her fingers curled around her wrist. Steadying herself, she felt for the tiny grooves littering her arms, each a testament, a witness to her fight.
Alive, she was alive and breathing. Those wounds would heal… if given the time, the chance.
“You have that often?”
“What?” She swallowed, her voice hoarse. Remembering the force that had been pressing down there mercilessly.
“Claustrophobia?” Was that… tenderness in his voice?
She was locked in a car, with a psychopath, who had tried to kill her twice. And he had the guts to lower his voice to one of empathy? Bad luck. She wasn’t one to succumb to charm.
The answer to his question? None of his damn business.
Lights hit her face. A lone car traveling…
A guy with glasses on, full focus on the road.
Most likely heading home, to a wife or kids waiting for him to scoot in on the dining table for breakfast in the morning.
What would the man do if she flagged him down?
Kill him with the gun that clung to his hip?
The driver probably wouldn’t even see her.
Or so she thought, until his head turned, watching their car idling on the emergency shoulder.
“I wouldn’t.” His voice was steady and the threat within. Crystal clear.
“Why wouldn’t I?” The truth was she had nothing left to lose but her life, for however long that would last, she wouldn’t spend it as a victim. As long as she could move her hands and feet, she could keep fighting.
Finally, he backed away. His breath hitched.
It was subtle but repeated as he settled in the driver’s seat.
His forearms were dressed in bandages, stark white in the reflection of the mirror.
That was the reason for the burn under her nails, the pressure building beneath, her final act of defiance had left its marks.
He adjusted the mirror, the little glass now continuing their staring competition as it framed her pale face.
She looked awful. A fight with a mountain lion wouldn’t have her looking this… haggard. But he was hurt too, those ribs of his, they’d be stealing his breath for a while.
Blue eyes faced green ones. They could have stayed there the entire night for all Kate cared. Suspended in this… game of who would look away first. A silly fight that she thought she could win, silly indeed.
But the killer merely winked at her, winked! Then putting the car into first gear he said, “Let’s just say, I’ll warn against making any moves. The consequences could be… uncomfortable.” He merged onto the highway, the car she’d seen… its red taillights faded from view.
She leaned back, ignoring the cold embrace of the leather against her back, no way would she be picking up the blanket.
Cold or not, it felt too much like… giving in.
Or maybe… Next to it lay the coarse rope, discarded onto the floor beside her feet.
With a perfect length to give him a taste of his own.
“You know… You never did answer my question.”
Fuck.
Those green depths weighed down on her once more.
Her head made a somersault as she bent down to grab the blanket, sliding the rope underneath it before scooting back.
Spreading the cloth out over her legs. “Claustrophobia? No. What would your response be to being choked out, kidnapped and then tied up?” She was getting warmer alright, but it had nothing to do with the blanket and everything to do with the rope clenched in her fist. Out of view.
“Good point.” The rope dug deeper in her hands.
Now if he would keep his attention off of her for longer than five seconds.
“That said… how would you respond to a girl wanting to choke you out with the rope in her hand?” She felt the blood drain from her cheeks.
His hand raised over the gear shift, palm up. “I’d like that back.”
All-seeing son of a gun.
“What are you talking about?” She kept her voice low, innocent like a child caught with her hand in a jar of cookies.
“The rope you’ve been wanting to twist around my neck.”
“I don’t know what you’re—,”
“It would be bad for the both of us.”
“I don’t see how this…” She lifted the rope in the air, waving it around. “Could hurt both of us.”
He let go of the steering wheel, Kate watched, heart in her throat as the car veered closer to the white line. “Sorry, this isn’t a self-driving car.”
“Maybe I’ll be better off.” Whatever his plans were. If she didn’t get out. There wasn’t a future in which she could see anything but pain and suffering.
“Maybe… you need to give it another think.” He took back control over the wheel with a hand, the other still upraised between them.
That must give cramps at some point, perhaps she should just wait for that to happen.
“You won’t be fast enough. Plus, it won’t be worth the consequences.”
The rope weighed heavy in her hand. “You sure?” It was almost hypnotizing… endless possibilities raging through her mind.
But there was the one thought of the car flipping over. A memory too intertwined with another, younger version of her. It had led to her standing at a house with a hole in the door.
“I promise you.”
He was right.
She shoved it into his hand.
“Thank you.”
Kate huffed, flopping back into her seat. The cream-colored leather was barely visible in the dark. It didn’t really suit his profession.
“Wouldn’t black have been a better color?” The internal slap reverberated across her brain. Did she really just open conversation with what was most likely a… serial killer? About his hygiene, no less.
“Come again?” Surprise lit up the lines on his face.
The leather creaked beneath her as she shifted position. “You know, blood and all.” She mumbled.
A grin took over his features. Making him seem almost… boyish. As much as a man like him could ever resemble a child. “At least I see what needs cleaning.”
Right.
That explained the incessant tickling in her nose.
Bleach. He must have gallons of it stocked somewhere, ready for use whenever the situation called for it
What are you going to do with me? The question lay on her tongue, itching to slip from her lips. But asking it… bared a vulnerability she didn’t want to show. And the answer?
Maybe she didn’t want to know.