Tag Archives: abduction

Kidnapped Chapter 6


Chapter 6

Her eyes shot open as the alarm clock buzzed beside her. “Shit.” Her heart hammering, she watched as he reached over and shut it off.

“’Morning.”

“It’s only six o’clock.” She yawned, her lip cracking and creating a ripple of burning pain. “Damn it.”

“I’m an early riser. Hmmm, you opened it up some last night. Hurt much?”

“No, it feels wonderful, you idiot.” She paused, shocked that she had said such a thing to him, and waited for any response, however brutal it might be.

“Well, someone’s not very chipper in the morning.”

She cocked her head to the side, baffled by his response.

“I guess I wouldn’t be too chipper either if my lip was killing me. I’ll clean it up for you, then grab some Advil for the pain.”

She watched in complete astonishment as he walked to the washroom—he wasn’t even disturbed with her? Okay, what’s up with this guy? She needed to test the waters. “You try sleeping with your arms tied to the bed and see how happy you are in the morning.”

He stepped from the washroom with a damp cloth, moving towards her. “I wasn’t exactly comfortable either, princess.”

Hmmm. “You could have slept in your bed. I didn’t have a choice as to how or where I slept.” She snarled her response, feeling rather brave now.

“Sweetie, you are in my bed.” Leaning over her, he dabbed the blood on her chin.

Her pulse fluttered beneath her skin and as her eyes lifted to meet his, it fluttered even more. Sweet God, what the hell was wrong with her? How could she be feeling arousal from this man holding her captive?

“Liz?”

“What?” She jumped, her response quick.

“I asked if I let you go to the washroom to clean your lip, do you promise not to kick me again?”

She told her pulse to slow down, calmed her rapid breathing and nodded. She couldn’t be feeling something for him, that was just…wrong.

“I can manage from here,” she insisted as he hoisted her to her feet, trying to pull her hands from his. Her pulse fluttered again, and it pissed her off.

“I’m sure you can.” But he helped her to the washroom just to be sure.

She closed the door in his face and turned to the mirror. Her face looked pale, her lip swollen and bloody, and her jaw hurt like a son-of-a-bitch. Her mind swirled with the arousal she felt being near him. She needed psychiatric help for lusting after her abductor. Splashing water on her face, washing her eyes, then carefully wiping her sore lip, she continued to think how idiotic it was to even think she could feel desire for him.

She did her business, ran her fingers through her hair trying to smooth it out as best she could without a brush, and opened the bathroom door. She saw Mac standing to the side, the ropes dangling in his hand. Her eyes lifted to his, then down to the ropes.

“Don’t even think about it.”

Making a break for it, she jutted to her right, then, faking him out, she bolted off to the left. She climbed over the bed, the blanket nearly tripping her up, then jumping off the bed, she ran for the door. She grabbed the door knob just as he came up behind her. She let out a squeal as he grabbed her left hand and pulled it behind her back, pinning her body to the door.

“Man, you just don’t give up.”

“Of course I’m not going to give up, you jackass. Do you think I’m just going to sit by and let you keep me tied up, for God sakes?” She jerked her body, trying to break free. He pinned her good and tight against the door. Her pulse began to flutter again, making her curse under her breath. When he reached in front of her to grab her right hand, she fought to keep him from taking it. Quicker than she was, he managed to grab it and pulled it behind her.

“And how did you expect to get out of here when the door is locked?”

“You didn’t lock it last night when you came up to bed.” He spun her around and pressed her against the door, holding her in place with his body. This time her pulse didn’t just flutter, it hammered.

“Fine, so you would have made it out the door, then what? You wouldn’t have gotten far, princess, with Betty Rubble keeping watch downstairs.”

“At this hour, only a crazy person would be awake.” She jerked her body once more, trying to get away from him. She felt pretty damn hot and it was getting very uncomfortable.

“Check it out, princess, you happen to be awake. Does that make you crazy?”

She knew she was panting but couldn’t control herself. Being so near to him was making her pulse throb and her chest ache with need. “I didn’t have a choice; your stupid alarm clock woke me.” She lifted her knee, ready to strike.

Faster than she, he blocked her attempt with his hand. “I like the mornings.”

“I like to sleep in.”

Lost for words, they stared into each other’s eyes, breathless. Moments passed before Mac shifted away, pulling her from the door. He didn’t say a word to her as he led her to the chair. Knowing what he had planned for her now, she refused to allow it to happen. When he pushed her down into the chair, she stood right back up.

“Get a grip.”

It shocked her when he lifted his leg and planted his knee on her chest. And when he leaned in closer to tie her up, she could smell his cologne, and it tickled her arousal. His hair beneath the mask brushed against her cheek as he bent near her ear to tie the ropes around her and it felt like satin. Turning her head, she saw the tufts of dark curly hair, and she nearly sighed.

“There, that should do it.”

Liz sat in her chair as he left the room, her chest rising and falling with each heavy breath she took. “Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God.” Letting her head fall back, she wasn’t quite sure what to think. The man abducted her and was holding her captive, for God sakes, and she lusted after him. She didn’t even know what he looked like, yet she wanted him. God, Liz, get a grip.

Coming to her senses, she realized she needed to get out, she just didn’t know how. She’d tried to make a break for it, twice, only to be dragged back. The window, it was still her best chance, and the brief glances the night before led her to believe it would be plenty big enough for her to squeeze through. All she needed to do is break free of the ropes and she was set.

Shifting her body, she ignored the burning sensation the ropes caused as they rubbed against her skin. There would be plenty of time to sooth them when she broke free.

~

Feeling more himself after the cold shower, Mac headed for the kitchen to make some breakfast. Seeing Terry sitting at the table eating a plate of fluffy eggs soured his mood. Saying nothing to him, he moved to the fridge, grabbing the butter and jam. Setting them on the counter, he was pleased to see the coffee ready. Pouring himself a cup, adding a spoon of sugar, he pulled out the toaster and added four slices of bread, pressing the lever down.

“He called last night.”

“What?” Mac turned sharply, the coffee in the cup sloshing over the rim to scald his fingers. Setting the cup on the counter, he put his fingers in his mouth. “Why didn’t you come get me?”

Terry shrugged, lifting his own coffee cup to his lips, taking a sip before speaking. “Didn’t want to disturb you.”

“I’m in charge, Terry, you should have called me to the phone.” He turned when the toast popped, annoyed. “What did he want?”

“He was checking in, making sure everything went smoothly. I told him everything went according to plan.”

He buttered the toast then slopped jam on it. “What else?”

“That’s it. Said he would be in touch.”

Great, Mac thought, he’d be in touch. He had the easy part, while Mac put everything on the line. Not like he had much of a choice now, did he, and the guy knew that. Rock and a hard place, that’s where he sat. Pouring another cup of coffee, he set both cups as well as the plate of toast on a tray then turned to the fridge and grabbed a bowl of strawberries, fresh from his own garden. “Tidy up for me while I’m upstairs okay.”

“I’m not your bitch, Mac.” Terry snarled into his cup.

“I didn’t make the eggs, and thank you for sharing by the way.”

“Whatever.”

Clenching his jaw, Mac carried the tray up the stairs, wishing he didn’t have to be stuck with the creep. But he’d had no choice in the matter, so he just had to put up with him.

Setting the tray on the floor, he pulled the key from his pocket, unlocked the door, then, pulling the mask from his back pocket, he slipped it over his head before opening the door. “Room service.”

Her head shifted in his direction and her eyes focused on the tray in his hand. “Cheap restaurant if you call that breakfast.”

“My, what a smart mouth we have, princess.” Smiling, he set the tray on the bed and moved in behind her. “Right handed, right?” The scent of her hair tickled his nose and stirred his pulse.

“Yes.”

Shaking it off, he untied her left hand then tied the right to the ropes around her body.

“I said I was right handed.”

“I know.” He took the plate of toast, lifted two pieces off the plate for himself, put a few strawberries beside hers then set the plate on her lap. “Here you go.”

Liz looked down at the food before her, then back up at Mac. “You must have broken a sweat cooking for me. You shouldn’t have.”

Ooh, he loved her sarcasm. “All the more reason for you to enjoy it.” He took a seat across from her, the tray on his lap with his toast and coffee.

“Where’s my cup?”

“Over there.” He motioned to the night stand, taking a bite of his toast.

She glanced to her left and saw the cup sitting there. “May I have it?”

“In time.”

Her eyes shifted to his as her left eyebrow shot up. “Now what could I possibly do with a cup of coffee, aside from drinking it?”

“You strike me as the inventive type; you’d find other uses for it.”

Her lip curled up but not enough to open the wound. “Like throwing it at you?”

“Bingo, princess.”

“Afraid of me, big guy?” She bit into a strawberry, licking the juices that trickled from her mouth.

He watched her tongue as it lapped up the juices and felt his loins tighten. “Wary.”

“Then why bring me a cup?”

His eyes were glued to the way she ate that luscious red juicy strawberry and the way her lips molded its form, the way her tongue lapped up the juices. “Why do you think it’s sitting over there and not in your hands right now?”

Smiling, she licked the strawberry juice from her fingers. “And you think giving me a cooled cup of coffee is any better?”

He imagined his fingers in her mouth. “Cool coffee doesn’t hurt as much.”

“Ever had a cup smashed over your head?”

Shaking his mind clear, his eyes lifted to hers. “See, now that is exactly why I’m guarded.” He stood now, knowing that if he didn’t leave the room soon, he wasn’t going to be able to. “Finished?”

“No.”

“Then no coffee.”

“Fine, I’m finished.” She’d give up the last pieces of the overly sweet toast and juicy strawberries for the coffee any day.

“Here you go.” Taking the plate, he set it on the tray with his coffee cup then walked to the door. “I’ll be right back.”

He closed the door behind him, locking it.

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Kidnapped Chapter 5


Mac didn’t have a clue where Terry had gone off to, and he really didn’t give a rat’s ass. Just as long as the guy wasn’t around him, or near Liz. He couldn’t believe the bastard had been close to forcing himself on her. Grabbing the ice pack from the emergency kit, he gave it a snap to start the freezing process as he headed up the stairs for the antiseptic. Unlocking the bedroom door, he heard Liz sniffling and his heart sank. He didn’t say a word as he moved towards her and took a seat in the chair across from her, lifting the ice pack to her mouth. When she jerked back, flinching, he wanted to kill Terry for making her so jittery. Scaring or hurting her hadn’t been part of the plan.

“I’m sorry.” Carefully he laid the bag against her mouth. “This will help the swelling.” His eyes shifted to the open blouse and to the lush pink breasts, and his male hormones came to attention. Berating himself, he lifted his eyes.

“I…have some antiseptic here, to clean the wound to make sure it doesn’t get infected.” Setting the ice pack on the floor, he lifted the bottle, dabbing a cotton tipped swab in the solution. “He won’t touch you again. I’ll make sure of that.” She winced when he touched the swab to her cut and he apologized once more. “Sorry.”

He didn’t blame her for not talking; her lip and jaw probably hurt like a bitch, and beyond that, she was probably utterly terrified. “Um…I’m going to untie you and let you…fix yourself up in the washroom.” He stood, moving in behind her, and got busy untying the knots.

“There you go.” Leaving the ropes on the floor, he took hold of her arm to help her up. He could feel her body shaking. He led her to the adjoining washroom near the window, stopping by the door. “I’ll be waiting right here.”

She caught the warning and entered the tiny washroom, closing the door behind her. She took one look in the mirror and her legs nearly buckled. With shaky hands she quickly did up the buttons on her blouse. She’d nearly been raped.

Feeling ill, she bent over the toilet and vomited until she emptied herself. Standing, she washed her mouth, then sat down and relieved herself. If the big guy hadn’t come in when he had, she might have been—no, she would have been raped. She needed to get out of here, now. Looking around the tiny room, she threw the shower curtain open to see a tiny circular window that looked no bigger than her head. Damn it, so much for thinking she could escape from the bathroom.

She took a deep breath, gathering her strength, then pushed the door open. Seeing him waiting for her, she knew what she needed to do. With a quick lift of her leg, she kicked him hard in the gut, sending him stumbling backwards onto the bed. Dashing for the door, she yanked it open and let out a loud scream when he caught her around the waist. She wasn’t beat yet, so she kept kicking and flailing with her arms.

“Jesus,” he exclaimed as he tried to get a good hold on her. Wrapping his arms around hers, pinning them to her sides, he dragged her to the bed. It was then that he realized the ropes still lay by the chair. “Damn it.”

“Let me go.” Wiggling, trying to break free of his hold, she feared that now he, too, would take his turn with her. She saw the slimy bastard who attacked her enter the room and went completely still.

“What the hell is going on?”

“Get the ropes.”

Her body stiffened momentarily when he climbed on top of her. “No, leave me alone; let me go; let me go.” Liz grunted, fighting, trying to break his hold. The guy didn’t just look big, he was big, and muscular. He felt like a lead weight pinning her down.

“Want me to tie her up?”

“No, just give me the ropes and go.” He responded to Terry, then looked down at Liz with a thin smile. “Nice try, princess, you’ve got balls.”

Relieved when Betty Rubble left the room, Liz let out a long breath. Then she felt her arms yanked above her head. Her pulse raced and her heart thundered as Bart tied her hands to the posts. “What are you going to do to me?” Was he going to punish her for trying to get away? God, please, don’t let him hurt me.

“Tie you to the bed for one. Then I’m going to put some more ice on that lip.”

Her brow furrowed in confusion. “Are you for real?”

“Last time I looked.” He secured the knots, then lifted off of her to grab the ice.

“I just kicked you and tried to get away. I’d think you’d be pretty pissed at that.” What the hell is wrong with you, Liz? Stop egging him on!

“Oh, I am.” He laid the ice on her lip, his eyes meeting hers. “But I’m not going to smack you around for it. What the other guy tried to do to you, what he did do to you, I don’t condone that sort of thing.”

He was being serious, she could tell by the tone of his voice and the look in his eyes. “You’re a baffling man— what’s your name?” The bag of ice slid from her mouth as she spoke.

“Bart,” he said with a smile, lifting the bag, holding it against her mouth.

“Right.” How droll. “Then why are you doing this to me? Why not let me go?”

“I enjoy abuse,” he said comically, as though trying to lighten her mood.

“Yeah, well, I’ll be more than happy to give you all the abuse you like, Bart.” She emphasized his name, her eyes narrowing with just a hint of humor in them.

“Pretty hard to do that, tied to the bed. Let’s take a look at that lip.” Pulling the ice from her lip, he leaned in to get a better look.

When his finger touched her bottom lip, she felt her breath catch.

“We’ll just leave the ice on it a bit more.” He stood, inhaling sharply.

“Where are you going?”

“Getting the lights.”

“Why?” Her voice quivered.

“I told you, princess, I’m not like the other guy. It’s getting late.” He shut the light off and the only form of illumination came from the TV on the dresser.

“I really hate that name.” She watched as he moved to the TV and shut it off. The darkness filled the room and her heart began to hammer. She felt the darkness surround her, smothering her with its greedy fingers.

“Yeah, why is that?” Clicking on the washroom light, he closed the door so that only a sliver of light could be seen.

She focused on the light, however small, and reminded herself there was nothing in the dark that could harm her. “I’m not royalty for one. What are you doing?”

With the light knitted blanket in hand, he draped it over her legs. “Covering you up?”

“Why?”

“In case you’re cold during the night.” Grabbing a pillow from beside her, he saw her eyes as they watched his every move. “Do you snore, princess?”

Her teeth gnashed again to the silly nickname. “No, I most certainly do not snore.”

“We’ll see. Sleep tight now.” He carried the pillow to the arm chair in the corner beside the bed and tucked it behind his head as he sat down.

“You’re sleeping here?”

“Yep. Don’t let the bed bugs bite.”

Rolling her eyes, she thought how childish that statement had been. She lay there tied to the bed fighting the sleep. She wanted to be on alert at all times, just to be safe, and every time he moved in the chair beside her, she waited, worrying, wondering. But inevitably sleep took hold and she dozed off.

Chapter 6

Her eyes shot open as the alarm clock buzzed beside her. “Shit.” Her heart hammering, she watched as he reached over and shut it off.

“’Morning.”

“It’s only six o’clock.” She yawned, her lip cracking and creating a ripple of burning pain. “Damn it.”

“I’m an early riser. Hmmm, you opened it up some last night. Hurt much?”

“No, it feels wonderful, you idiot.” She paused, shocked that she had said such a thing to him, and waited for any response, however brutal it might be.

“Well, someone’s not very chipper in the morning.”

She cocked her head to the side, baffled by his response.

“I guess I wouldn’t be too chipper either if my lip was killing me. I’ll clean it up for you, then grab some Advil for the pain.”

She watched in complete astonishment as he walked to the washroom—he wasn’t even disturbed with her? Okay, what’s up with this guy? She needed to test the waters. “You try sleeping with your arms tied to the bed and see how happy you are in the morning.”

He stepped from the washroom with a damp cloth, moving towards her. “I wasn’t exactly comfortable either, princess.”

Hmmm. “You could have slept in your bed. I didn’t have a choice as to how or where I slept.” She snarled her response, feeling rather brave now.

“Sweetie, you are in my bed.” Leaning over her, he dabbed the blood on her chin.

Her pulse fluttered beneath her skin and as her eyes lifted to meet his, it fluttered even more. Sweet God, what the hell was wrong with her? How could she be feeling arousal from this man holding her captive?

“Liz?”

“What?” She jumped, her response quick.

“I asked if I let you go to the washroom to clean your lip, do you promise not to kick me again?”

She told her pulse to slow down, calmed her rapid breathing and nodded. She couldn’t be feeling something for him, that was just…wrong.

“I can manage from here,” she insisted as he hoisted her to her feet, trying to pull her hands from his. Her pulse fluttered again, and it pissed her off.

“I’m sure you can.” But he helped her to the washroom just to be sure.

She closed the door in his face and turned to the mirror. Her face looked pale, her lip swollen and bloody, and her jaw hurt like a son-of-a-bitch. Her mind swirled with the arousal she felt being near him. She needed psychiatric help for lusting after her abductor. Splashing water on her face, washing her eyes, then carefully wiping her sore lip, she continued to think how idiotic it was to even think she could feel desire for him.

She did her business, ran her fingers through her hair trying to smooth it out as best she could without a brush, and opened the bathroom door. She saw Mac standing to the side, the ropes dangling in his hand. Her eyes lifted to his, then down to the ropes.

“Don’t even think about it.”

Making a break for it, she jutted to her right, then, faking him out, she bolted off to the left. She climbed over the bed, the blanket nearly tripping her up, then jumping off the bed, she ran for the door. She grabbed the door knob just as he came up behind her. She let out a squeal as he grabbed her left hand and pulled it behind her back, pinning her body to the door.

“Man, you just don’t give up.”

“Of course I’m not going to give up, you jackass. Do you think I’m just going to sit by and let you keep me tied up, for God sakes?” She jerked her body, trying to break free. He pinned her good and tight against the door. Her pulse began to flutter again, making her curse under her breath. When he reached in front of her to grab her right hand, she fought to keep him from taking it. Quicker than she was, he managed to grab it and pulled it behind her.

“And how did you expect to get out of here when the door is locked?”

“You didn’t lock it last night when you came up to bed.” He spun her around and pressed her against the door, holding her in place with his body. This time her pulse didn’t just flutter, it hammered.

“Fine, so you would have made it out the door, then what? You wouldn’t have gotten far, princess, with Betty Rubble keeping watch downstairs.”

“At this hour, only a crazy person would be awake.” She jerked her body once more, trying to get away from him. She felt pretty damn hot and it was getting very uncomfortable.

“Check it out, princess, you happen to be awake. Does that make you crazy?”

She knew she was panting but couldn’t control herself. Being so near to him was making her pulse throb and her chest ache with need. “I didn’t have a choice; your stupid alarm clock woke me.” She lifted her knee, ready to strike.

Faster than she, he blocked her attempt with his hand. “I like the mornings.”

“I like to sleep in.”

Lost for words, they stared into each other’s eyes, breathless. Moments passed before Mac shifted away, pulling her from the door. He didn’t say a word to her as he led her to the chair. Knowing what he had planned for her now, she refused to allow it to happen. When he pushed her down into the chair, she stood right back up.

“Get a grip.”

It shocked her when he lifted his leg and planted his knee on her chest. And when he leaned in closer to tie her up, she could smell his cologne, and it tickled her arousal. His hair beneath the mask brushed against her cheek as he bent near her ear to tie the ropes around her and it felt like satin. Turning her head, she saw the tufts of dark curly hair, and she nearly sighed.

“There, that should do it.”

Liz sat in her chair as he left the room, her chest rising and falling with each heavy breath she took. “Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God.” Letting her head fall back, she wasn’t quite sure what to think. The man abducted her and was holding her captive, for God sakes, and she lusted after him. She didn’t even know what he looked like, yet she wanted him. God, Liz, get a grip.

Coming to her senses, she realized she needed to get out, she just didn’t know how. She’d tried to make a break for it, twice, only to be dragged back. The window, it was still her best chance, and the brief glances the night before led her to believe it would be plenty big enough for her to squeeze through. All she needed to do is break free of the ropes and she was set.

Shifting her body, she ignored the burning sensation the ropes caused as they rubbed against her skin. There would be plenty of time to sooth them when she broke free.

~

Feeling more himself after the cold shower, Mac headed for the kitchen to make some breakfast. Seeing Terry sitting at the table eating a plate of fluffy eggs soured his mood. Saying nothing to him, he moved to the fridge, grabbing the butter and jam. Setting them on the counter, he was pleased to see the coffee ready. Pouring himself a cup, adding a spoon of sugar, he pulled out the toaster and added four slices of bread, pressing the lever down.

“He called last night.”

“What?” Mac turned sharply, the coffee in the cup sloshing over the rim to scald his fingers. Setting the cup on the counter, he put his fingers in his mouth. “Why didn’t you come get me?”

Terry shrugged, lifting his own coffee cup to his lips, taking a sip before speaking. “Didn’t want to disturb you.”

“I’m in charge, Terry, you should have called me to the phone.” He turned when the toast popped, annoyed. “What did he want?”

“He was checking in, making sure everything went smoothly. I told him everything went according to plan.”

He buttered the toast then slopped jam on it. “What else?”

“That’s it. Said he would be in touch.”

Great, Mac thought, he’d be in touch. He had the easy part, while Mac put everything on the line. Not like he had much of a choice now, did he, and the guy knew that. Rock and a hard place, that’s where he sat. Pouring another cup of coffee, he set both cups as well as the plate of toast on a tray then turned to the fridge and grabbed a bowl of strawberries, fresh from his own garden. “Tidy up for me while I’m upstairs okay.”

“I’m not your bitch, Mac.” Terry snarled into his cup.

“I didn’t make the eggs, and thank you for sharing by the way.”

“Whatever.”

Clenching his jaw, Mac carried the tray up the stairs, wishing he didn’t have to be stuck with the creep. But he’d had no choice in the matter, so he just had to put up with him.

Setting the tray on the floor, he pulled the key from his pocket, unlocked the door, then, pulling the mask from his back pocket, he slipped it over his head before opening the door. “Room service.”

Her head shifted in his direction and her eyes focused on the tray in his hand. “Cheap restaurant if you call that breakfast.”

“My, what a smart mouth we have, princess.” Smiling, he set the tray on the bed and moved in behind her. “Right handed, right?” The scent of her hair tickled his nose and stirred his pulse.

“Yes.”

Shaking it off, he untied her left hand then tied the right to the ropes around her body.

“I said I was right handed.”

“I know.” He took the plate of toast, lifted two pieces off the plate for himself, put a few strawberries beside hers then set the plate on her lap. “Here you go.”

Liz looked down at the food before her, then back up at Mac. “You must have broken a sweat cooking for me. You shouldn’t have.”

Ooh, he loved her sarcasm. “All the more reason for you to enjoy it.” He took a seat across from her, the tray on his lap with his toast and coffee.

“Where’s my cup?”

“Over there.” He motioned to the night stand, taking a bite of his toast.

She glanced to her left and saw the cup sitting there. “May I have it?”

“In time.”

Her eyes shifted to his as her left eyebrow shot up. “Now what could I possibly do with a cup of coffee, aside from drinking it?”

“You strike me as the inventive type; you’d find other uses for it.”

Her lip curled up but not enough to open the wound. “Like throwing it at you?”

“Bingo, princess.”

“Afraid of me, big guy?” She bit into a strawberry, licking the juices that trickled from her mouth.

He watched her tongue as it lapped up the juices and felt his loins tighten. “Wary.”

“Then why bring me a cup?”

His eyes were glued to the way she ate that luscious red juicy strawberry and the way her lips molded its form, the way her tongue lapped up the juices. “Why do you think it’s sitting over there and not in your hands right now?”

Smiling, she licked the strawberry juice from her fingers. “And you think giving me a cooled cup of coffee is any better?”

He imagined his fingers in her mouth. “Cool coffee doesn’t hurt as much.”

“Ever had a cup smashed over your head?”

Shaking his mind clear, his eyes lifted to hers. “See, now that is exactly why I’m guarded.” He stood now, knowing that if he didn’t leave the room soon, he wasn’t going to be able to. “Finished?”

“No.”

“Then no coffee.”

“Fine, I’m finished.” She’d give up the last pieces of the overly sweet toast and juicy strawberries for the coffee any day.

“Here you go.” Taking the plate, he set it on the tray with his coffee cup then walked to the door. “I’ll be right back.”

He closed the door behind him, locking it.

Kidnapped Chapter 4/adult


Here is the next chapter in my Contemporary Comedy, Kidnapped. A bit of interesting information about Kidnapped. The book you are reading is not the original. For the most part its the same as the first draft I wrote but after submitting it I was asked to make some major changes. One of which was the scene below with the Betty Rubble character. Originally he was a meek, mild-mannered lady’s man who was a little…well to put it bluntly, dimwitted. To add some suspense and to make it seem more like a real life situation, my editor suggested I add in a rape scene. I refused but did add in him assaulting her. Do I regret changing so much of my book? Yes. But at the time I was a new author and I thought by arguing my point that the publisher would terminate my contract. Word of advice to all those newbies out there. yes, editors can suggest making changes to your books but if you don’t feel comfortable in the direction they want you to take it, speak up. It is after all, your book.

Now, on to Chapter 4.

**************

Tossing his mask on the counter, Mac set the plate in the dishwasher, then grabbed the towel hanging by the sink. Walking to the fridge, he grabbed the bag of ice from the freezer, set it on the counter, then grabbed a knife to open it.

“What are you doing?”

“Getting some ice.” His jaw began to throb now. Who would have thought the woman could pack such a hardy punch?

“Why?”

Grabbing a handful of ice, Mac wrapped it in a towel then laid it on his chin. “She clipped me.”

“What?” His blue eyes lifted to Mac’s with surprise.

“She clipped me, right in the jaw. It wasn’t much of a punch, but enough that I think it might bruise.”

“She punched you?”

“I think I said yes.”

“Shit. What did you do to her for that?”

Lifting his brow, Mac responded calmly. “I tied her up and left her sitting in the chair.”

“You didn’t hit her back?”

“No,” Mac said, aghast. “Jesus, I don’t hit women.”

“Oh come on, you’re telling me you’ve never hit a woman, not even once?”

“No, I have never hit a woman.” And it didn’t surprise him in the least that Terry condoned it. The guy was slime. He may look meek with his perfectly styled blonde hair and pretty boy face, but he’d heard stories about Terry’s temper that worried Mac. That was why he didn’t want him watching over Liz; he didn’t trust the guy.

Terry made snorting noises as he waved his hands in disgust. “You’re a wimp then. You gotta let the woman know who’s in charge.”

“You’re unbelievable, Terry, you know that?” Leaving, Mac wandered outside with the ice on his chin.

He didn’t hit women, and any man that did wasn’t a real man in his opinion.

~

She might be glad he left the TV on for her, breaking the mundane silence, if he’d left it on something other than the sports channel. The sun had begun to set; she could tell that by the lighting in the room. She’d been here nearly an entire day so far and no one had come looking for her, which meant, she was stuck here.

Yeah, Liz, that’s great, give up. Since when do you give up on anything? Struggling once more, she could feel the ropes around her body shifting, loosening. She was going to break free even if it meant skinning her wrists in the meantime.

She heard the door rattle and her heart skipped a beat. She hadn’t heard anyone on the stairs, and when the door creaked open, her worst fears confirmed, as she watched Betty Rubble enter the room.

“Thought you might want some company.”

He closed the door behind him, and she felt her heart hammering in her chest. She didn’t trust him, didn’t like him. He was the thinner of the two, yet he was the one that worried her the most.

“Cat got your tongue?” he said with a chuckle as he pulled a chair up right in front of her.

“What do you expect me to say?” She didn’t want to say anything to him.

He shrugged thin shoulders, leaning forward to run his finger along her knee. “I don’t know, you could tell me how much you want to get out of here.”

Her skin crawled beneath the fabric of her slacks, and as his fingers slid higher on her thigh, she felt the nausea rolling in her gut. “I could pay you anything you like, just name the price.” His eyes met hers and she saw beneath the mask that they were blue. She saw something else in his eyes and it sickened her. She knew just what he wanted and it had nothing to do with money, and when he ran his fingers along her thigh, up her hip, she felt the acid rise in her gut.

“The money sounds good, but I think we both know what I want from you.”

She gulped hard, swallowing back the vomit rising in her throat as his hand cruised up and along her breast. “Please, don’t do this.”

“Oh, you know you want this as much as I do. I’ve read up on you, and I know just how many men you’ve let touch you.” His hand slid to the buttons on her shirt, swiftly flicked one open, then the next.

Her entire body shaking, she knew she was going to be raped and there was nothing she could do to stop it. Your legs are free, Liz, use them, fight, don’t let him take you. She felt his fingers skim over the swell of her breasts and she knew she needed to make her move. Lifting her leg, she rammed her foot right into his crotch.

“Fucking Christ.” He buckled.

She saw the evil in his eyes through the mask when he lifted his head and the fear cut into her like a sharp knife. Keep fighting, Liz, keep fighting. “Keep away from me, you bastard.” Kicking her feet, she caught him in the shins several times. When his fist came up, she wasn’t quick enough to dodge it and felt the blow as it connected with her jaw. Liz saw stars before her eyes, felt the pain spear into her jaw and the nausea build in her belly.

“Stupid bitch, well, let’s see how feisty you’ll be while I’m pounding my dick into you.”

She screamed when he yanked her slacks zipper down, screamed as he began to work the ropes to gain access to her. The next thing she knew the door flew open and Bart came charging into the room. For a brief moment she thought he, too, would have his turn with her, but then he grabbed the slime attacking her and threw him against the wall.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“The stupid bitch kicked me in the fucking dick, man.”

“Get your ass downstairs, now.” To insure he listened, Mac grabbed his shoulder and yanked him from the room.

The door slammed shut behind them, and Liz shook with the thought of what might have just happened. She could hear their voices through the closed door, heard the deep voiced one yelling. She didn’t need to try to listen; his voice rang loud and clear through the closed door.

“You fucking bastard, you were going to rape her.”

“I just wanted a little taste. She kicked me in the nuts, man.”

“You fucking deserved that and more. You touch her again and I swear to God I will make damn sure you regret it. Got it?”

“Whatever.”

She heard a hard thud against the wall and jumped.

“You lay one finger on her again and I’ll make sure you never use that dick of yours again. Get out of my sight.”

The door opened and Liz sucked in a breath, her body still shaking. He simply stood by the door, looking down at her. She heard him mumble something under his breath, then shake his head as he turned to the door and left.

Her lip quivered once, then once more before the tears fell from her eyes. She could taste the bile in her throat and swallowed several times to settle it back down. Her jaw throbbing, she knew her lip bled because she could taste the blood. Looking down at her opened clothing, the tears slid silently from her eyes.

Kidnapped: Chapter 3


I hope everyone is enjoying my free chapters of Kidnapped. Just so you know, I am providing the entire book for you to read, chapter by chapter each week. I would love to hear some comments on how you are enjoying the book. I’ve decided to hold a contest. At some point in the next few weeks I will ask a question pertaining to the book. Everyone who answers in the comments section will have their name put into a draw and the winner will recieve a prize from my Cafe Press store.  http://www.cafepress.ca/shielasbooks

Now, on to Chapter 3 of Kidnapped.

Her stomach growled reminding her she hadn’t eaten anything since the poached egg and croissant for brunch. She had no idea of the time, but she guessed it to be late afternoon, maybe even close to the evening. She’d been working on loosening the ropes for hours now and her wrists felt pretty raw. Clueless to where her abductors were, Liz knew that at any moment, one of them could come up to check on her. So she needed to work fast.

She wasn’t going to wait around for them to get what they wanted from her father. She could hear birds chirping from somewhere behind her. Twisting her head, she tried to get a look at the window. Unable to see it clearly, she huffed.

The place didn’t look new but lived in. The walls were a light creamy color but looked as if they’d been painted that way a good long time ago. From her viewpoint she could see the door off to her left and a dresser off to her right. On top sat a TV no bigger than a microwave. How did a person watch something that small?

Wiggling, she tried to get the ropes to loosen. The heat made her sweat, her face and body growing damp from the exertion. The room was hotter than a sauna. Blowing air over her face, she longed for the cool, air-conditioned apartment she lived in. Her car, she suddenly remembered, still sat in the parking lot of the restaurant. Bonnie and Moira would see it still there, and wonder what it was doing there and why it was running. Surely they would have called the police by now. Maybe someone saw her being abducted and called the police?

She wouldn’t have to be rescued if it wasn’t for her father’s notoriety. She tugged the ropes in frustration. It had always been his fame, and she’d always been the victim of it. As far back as she could remember she had been hounded because of her father. As an infant, her parents paraded her for all to see, always dressed in the finest garments, her hair meticulously styled. She’d been sent to the finest boarding schools and spent more time there than at her home, her parents rarely having time for her. And as she matured, they insisted that she act like a lady and never do anything to sully that image, never to misbehave in public and always smile. God, there had been times she’d wanted to scream at the cameras that flashed at her from everywhere just to leave her be.

But they hadn’t, and as she had grown into a young woman, they had often caught her in the arms of her companions, writing nasty stuff about her being a lush. She had been photographed leaving a party, after having a tad bit too much to drink, and stumbling as she tried to walk to her friend’s car. She’d been labeled trouble from that day on, and so she had gone with it.

For years she listened to her father condemn her for not trying harder to be like him, for not accepting the roles he shifted to her, for wanting her to be someone she wasn’t. So she’d rebelled, and hard. Though she hadn’t touched drugs, she made good use of any bottle of alcohol handed to her. By the time she turned nineteen, she had developed a sour reputation and learned that no amount of alcohol could mask the pain she felt inside.

Under the guise of Stephanie Parsons, she fled to Paris, and to her utter relief, she hadn’t been followed. She’d drawn her hair up under a plain black wig of short hair, worn dark glasses and frumpy clothing. She hadn’t looked anything like herself, and it made her feel free for the first time in her life.

Until Jacques.

He entered her life, sweeping her off her feet and showed her the attention she so craved. There hadn’t been any clues to lead her to believe he was married. In the five months they were together, she never suspected him of having a wife or two young children. She might never have known if she hadn’t been window shopping and seen the tabloid, with her and Jacques in a heated embrace. The caption had read, ‘Mistress breaks up happy family’. She bought the paper, read the story and had been devastated.

Catching the very next fight, she left Paris with the paparazzi hot on her trail, and they hadn’t let up for months after the incident. Her father had been furious. Fed up with her antics, humiliating him in the public eye, he’d locked her in her room for two days. If it hadn’t been for their cook, Millie, she might have gone a little insane. Not only had Millie snuck her food, but came to her at night to talk. The woman had been Liz’s confidant and she’d been the one who’d told Liz she needed to make some choices in her life, choices that would allow the true Liz to come out.

But who the real Liz was, not even she knew. So she’d tried different things. The fundraisers her father insisted she do didn’t interest her; school didn’t look appealing, so she’d struck college from her list. She had no talent whatsoever to fall back on, though she’d been told by her acting coach that he saw potential. But she didn’t want to act; it was the last thing she wanted.

Then, visiting a sick friend in the hospital, she’d stumbled onto the wrong floor. The sweetest little girl she’d ever seen approached her, asking her shyly to help her find her room. Her face had been pale against a dark head of brown thinning hair. Her brown eyes were hollow with dark circles beneath the lashes and as she lifted her arm to rub her nose, Liz saw how thin she truly was. Taking the child’s hand, she led her to the nurse’s station for assistance in finding her room. It was then she learned the child had terminal cancer.

When she helped her to her room, Liz saw the many faces of the children, sick with one disease or another, looking lost and lonely. She’d realized then what she wanted to do. She wanted to help the children. So she began volunteering at the hospital, reading to them or watching movies together. Once a week, she brought people in, and gave all the girls a make over. They loved those days the most. And while the girls received pampering, Liz played video games with the boys and was getting pretty damn good at it.

Today was her day off from volunteering, and she wished desperately that she hadn’t listened to her father and gone out for brunch with Bonnie and Moira. She wouldn’t be sitting here, tied to a rock hard chair, being held by two men with God knew what on their minds to do with her

Sighing, she worked on the ropes once more, wondering what the children would do without her if she didn’t break free soon.

She heard the sound of boots on the stairs and once again her body tensed. When the door opened, she didn’t know what to expect.

“Chow time, princess.”

Her teeth gnashed together at the way he called her that silly nickname. Then she saw the plate in his hand and all thoughts vanished to her hunger. “You’re feeding me?”

“Well it’s not the finest cuisine, which I am sure you are used to, but it’ll serve its purpose.” Setting the plate on the nightstand, he moved in behind her and loosened the ropes on her hands. “There you go.”

She pulled her hands to the front of her, gave her wrists a rub and noticed the dark red rings forming on her skin.

“Bon appetit.”

She took the plate he offered and saw the plain sandwich. Lifting the top piece of bread, she saw there hadn’t been much effort in constructing this sandwich. One piece of ham, processed no less, and a glop of mustard. How appetizing.

“You’re welcome,” he said snidely as he pulled up another chair from the corner of the room by the window.

Her lip curled as she swallowed the bland sandwich. “Thank you,” she replied without a hint of the disdain she felt towards him.

Grabbing the TV remote on the bedside table, he clicked the TV on and began strolling through the channels. “How’s the sandwich?”

“Fine.” Dry, lacking in taste, and whole wheat bread would have been better, she thought snidely. “Have you contacted my father yet?” Nibbling on her sandwich, Liz examined the man before her. His chest was broad, the shirt he wore stretching to accommodate the muscles. His hair curled in black strands over the bottom of the mask. He had wide arms and big hands, long legs and big feet clad in dirty work boots. From the looks of him, he wasn’t the sort you tussled with if you wanted to win.

“You don’t need to concern yourself with such trivial matters, princess.”

“Stop calling me that,” she blurted out and instantly her eyes lifted with worry.

“I think it’s suited to you.” He pulled out a cigarette and casually lit it up while Liz picked her sandwich apart.

“Why, because I have money?” Good God, she’d lost her mind. He looked big enough to crush her with his bare hands and she boldly argued with him.

“There’s that, plus the high and mighty attitude you exude.”

She bit her tongue, preventing the many retorts that came to mind. The last thing she needed to do is piss off her abductor. “May I have something to drink?”

Without a word, he walked to the bathroom, dropped his cigarette in the toilet then taking a paper cup from the container on the wall he filled it with water. “Here you go.”

Her eyes shifted to the paper cup and the water inside of it, and she cringed. “Thank you.” Taking it, she sipped the tepid water, despising him even more.

“Finished eating?”

“Yes, I am.” Ready to use the plate to smash him in the face, she huffed when he scooped it from her lap and placed it on the floor before she could act. If she couldn’t use the plate, there were other means of defense. Curling her hand into a tight fist, she smashed it into his jaw and instantly regretted it.

Shaking her throbbing fist, Liz feared her attempt to knock him out would be the end of her. The guy’s jaw was like rock, and when he grabbed her hands, she expected he would retaliate. When all he did was tie her back up, she stared at him with complete surprise.

“You’ll have to hit me a hell of a lot harder than that, princess, to knock me out.”

She watched as he carried the plate to the door, closing it and locking her in as he left. It baffled her that he hadn’t done anything to her for her acting out. Surely the other guy would have smacked her back, yet this one hadn’t even seemed fazed.

Hmmm, she wondered, and started working again on the ropes to break free.

Shiela Stewart
www.shielasbooks.ca

Kidnapped:Chapter 2


Chapter 2

The tears rolled down her cheeks as they fell from her eyes. She didn’t wail like some women did, but instead she cried silently. She’d always been a silent crier. Why was this happening to her? What had she done to deserve this? She was a good person; she never hurt anyone, so why was she being punished? The tears fell in silence, dropping onto her lap to dampen her tan slacks.

 What were they going to do to her? Oh God, they could do all manner of things to her. Did anyone even notice her missing? What would her parents do when they found out? What if she didn’t make it out of this alive? Oh God, she didn’t want to die. She remembered Betty Rubble’s response to her question and the sickness rolled in her belly. His hands had been on her breasts, squeezing them as he carried her from the van. If he intended to kill her, it wouldn’t be before he had some fun with her. She needed to think; she needed to get out of here and fast. Shaking off the tears, stiffening her chin, Liz took a moment to look around. They’d put her in a bedroom—why would they tie you up in a bedroom if they didn’t intend on having their way with you? Their intentions clear, Liz scrambled to think. She needed to get free from the ropes that held her body in place, so she began to wiggle, trying to loosen them. They stung her hands, and she bit back the pain, knowing she would experience worse if she simply sat here doing nothing.

She was on the upper floor; she continued to think as she shifted trying to break free. And from the sounds of the silence, they weren’t in the city any longer. Where had they taken her? It didn’t matter, she told herself, shifting her shoulders, feeling the ropes slide over her arm. The instant she could manage to free herself of the ropes she would make a run for it.

Where were they? They’d left her alone in the room, but she doubted very much they had left altogether. That meant they were in the house somewhere. But where? It didn’t matter; she could climb from the window. She’d done it before, sneaking from her room at night to go out and party, or that time she’d been pursued by the paparazzi while dining with a friend. They’d hounded her all through the meal, insisting she give them an exclusive of the married man she’d been seeing. Excusing herself from the table, she’d gone to the washroom. The windows had been small, but she managed to slide herself through and make a break for it, leaving the paparazzi waiting for her. She’d had plenty of run-ins with the tabloids and the leeches they sent out to capture any unsavory thing she might be involved with. And when they couldn’t find anything, they’d made it up. She’d lived a lifetime of being in the spot light, thanks to her famous father, Jonathan Cromwell. Though lately there hadn’t been as many roles as he would have liked. In his day, he’d been renowned for his stage performances and his big screen adaptations of villains and criminals.

 And now, his only daughter had been abducted. She needed to get her butt in gear, stop whining and feeling sorry for herself, and get a grip on the situation. She struggled once more with the ropes, frustrated that they weren’t coming undone fast enough. When she heard the footsteps clomping on the stairs, her heart began to race and her mind panicked.

She heard the jingle of what sounded like keys, then the doorknob turned and the door began to open. Oh God, oh God, oh God.

As he stepped through the door, she looked up into the face of Bart. Her earlier assessment of him was grossly understated. He wasn’t just big, he was tall and muscular. The other guy had been the brutal one, but this guy looked scary.

 “How you doing there?”

“Why are you doing this to me?” Her voice sounded far too weak and she berated herself for it. Hold your chin up, Liz, be strong.

 He slipped a cigarette package from his shirt pocket and pulled one out. “Why do you think?”

She watched him put the cigarette between his lips and thought how ridiculous he looked smoking with that child’s mask on. “Money? You want money, fine, I have lots of money, just name your price.” She would easily give up everything she possessed if he let her go.

 “It’s already in the works, princess; don’t worry that pretty head of yours.”

 “Princess? I’m not a princess? You have me mistaken with someone else.” They’d abducted the wrong person; they’d mistaken her for royalty. Thank God, now that he knew his mistake, he could let her go.

“Elizabeth Cromwell, twenty eight, only daughter of Jonathan and Liza Cromwell. I know who you are, and the woman I see before me definitely looks like a princess.”

Damn it, there hadn’t been a mistake. Now what? “Fine, you know who I am, then you know I can get you all the money you need, but you have to let me go first.”

 He stared at her while he smoked for a few minutes, then shook his head. The deep rumble of his laughter startled her. “Sweetheart, you don’t have money, your daddy does, and you might as well make yourself comfortable because you aren’t going anywhere anytime soon.” His hand made quick tapping motions as he put the cigarette out in the ashtray on the dresser.

 “Fine, my father has money, then call him, demand whatever you like and he’ll pay you.” Her father wouldn’t hesitate to pay them to release her.

 “Like I said, princess, it’s already in the works. Now, you be a good girl and behave while I’m gone.”

She watched as he turned to leave, tripping over an untied bootlace. Stumbling forward, he managed to right himself quickly enough. He stiffened his back, yanking the door open then shutting it behind him with a solid click. The giggle escaped from her lips and startled her. For a brief moment she saw a glimmer of sunshine in her very cloudy situation.

************************************************

Bending down, Mac tied the loose lace, making sure to tie it tight this time. Some abductor you are, he thought to himself, tripping over your bootlaces. Lifting back up, he pulled the mask from his face, messing up his curly black hair. He took the stairs down directly to the kitchen. Setting his mask on the counter, he helped himself to a cup of coffee. It was, after all, his home. “What are you doing?” he asked Terry, who was sitting at the table, writing in some sort of book.

 “Writing down my experiences. I think this will look good on my resumé.”

 “Are you insane? You can’t put that you took part in an abduction. What the hell is wrong with you, man?”

“I’m not making it factual. I’m referencing it to a movie role. They don’t have to know it’s not true. This is good experience for me and might come in handy.”

Shaking his head, Mac added a spoon of sugar to his coffee. “I should have insisted I do this alone.”

“You couldn’t manage it alone, Mac, and we both know it. Besides, at least you’ll have company until the week is over.”

Some company he wouldn’t mind, but not this guy. He knew Terry Orsini as an acquaintance, but they certainly weren’t friends, and not everything he knew about Terry pleased him. The guy was a pretty boy who used his looks to get what he wanted, and what he wanted most was a lucrative movie roll that would skyrocket him to the top. The other things Terry wanted were women, and he had plenty of them. But he was right in saying that Mac needed him. Two heads were better than one. “Fine, but just remember, I deal with her, not you. Got it?”

“Yeah, sure, whatever.” His coffee in hand, he left Terry to his work and walked into the living room, the photos on the wall catching his attention. The picture of his father with his grandchildren surrounding him on the sofa made him smile. There hadn’t even been an inkling of how badly he was ailing. He’d done a good job of keeping his illness a secret, and his impending bankruptcy as well. Now it was up to him to make sure that never happened.

For one week he could manage to keep a woman locked in his room. It would be worth it in the end when the farm he loved so dearly would be his, free and clear, and the horse ranch that he dreamt of would come to fruition. Relaxing on the sofa, he clicked the TV on and tried to keep his mind from thinking about what he’d done. He was, after all, responsible for kidnapping an innocent woman.

Something new/Free read


Since my brain has been out to lunch lately and I haven’t been able to come up with many posts, I’ve decided to share with you one of my books. Free. Mind you, I shouldn’t be too hard on my brain, It’s had a lot to deal with lately, family issues, but back to the topic. Free read. Each Tuesday I will post a chapter from my previously published romantic comedy, Kidnapped. Your job: read the chapters, let me know what you think of it, or tell me what you think will happen next. Simple as pie.

Here is the blub and first chapter.
Enjoy!

Elizabeth Cromwell is rich, gorgeous and doesn’t have a care in the world. Until she’s whisked away in a van, blindfolded and gagged. Liz is helpless and completely unable to fight against her abductor. Or so he thinks.

Mackenzie Tyrell is a good man in a desperate situation. About to see all of his hopes and dreams die, Mac gets caught in a web of deceit that may become his undoing.

The plan was simple—abduct the beautiful blonde and hold her for ransom. But when the feisty Elizabeth escapes and then turns the table on Mac, all bets are off. Now he’s tied up and at Liz’s mercy. Was this the worst mistake Mac’s ever made? Or, will the choice lead him to discover something and someone that will change his life forever?

Her head throbbed with the mother of all headaches. And who wouldn’t have a headache after listening to the incessant nattering of the two most boring people in the world? Liz pushed through the restaurant doors and into the hot mid morning sun, looking forward to spending a good three hours at the spa, relaxing.
She simply didn’t know why she continued these weekly brunches with Bonnie and Moira; the two irritated the hell out of her. Actually, she did—it was for her father, who insisted Liz align herself with the ‘right’ sort of people. What on earth could possibly be right where Bonnie and Moira were concerned, aside from the fact that they came from money and everyone knew them? They were the epitome of snobby rich and so not like her.
She pulled the keys from her purse and noticed her handbag looked a little worn. Maybe after her spa treatment she should go shopping for a new bag. She was entitled, after all, having to deal with the gossipy twosome for the last few hours.
Flipping her long hair over her shoulder, Liz hurried to her car, her Prada heels clicking as she walked. Pressing the button on the remote, she engaged the engine, which would automatically start up the air-conditioning. There was nothing worse than getting into a hot car.
She was going to enjoy being pampered.
Approaching her car, she frowned, seeing the dark, dusty, blue van parked unforgivably close to it. Squeezing through the minimal opening, careful not to soil her slacks on the dirty van, Liz reached for the car door. She heard the van doors behind her slide open. A hand clamped over her mouth and another grabbed her around the waist. In the time it took her to think to scream, she was yanked into the van and the doors slammed shut. Before she had a chance to utter a single word in protest, someone shoved a cloth in her mouth and tied it tightly around her head. For a split second she saw the hands as they lifted a cloth to her eyes, covering up her sight. As the shock began to wear off, Liz came to the alarming revelation.
She was being kidnapped.
Despite the rag in her mouth, she screamed, though it came out muffled. Using her best defense, she began to kick wildly with her legs, her fists stabbing at air. There was no damn way she was going to sit still and let this happen to her.
Her foot connected with something solid and when she heard the wild cursing, she knew she’d hit her abductor. So she kept kicking and flailing with her hands.
“God damn bitch.”
The force of the blow to her jaw knocked her back, hitting her head on the floor as she fell. Stars exploded before her covered eyes as the pain ricocheted from her jaw to her head. The nausea began to build in her gut and she thought she might vomit as he rolled her onto her stomach, then held her.
She yelped when he yanked her arms back and tied them roughly together by the wrists.
“Serves you right.”
His nails scraped her bare feet as he ripped the shoes from her feet. What the hell was going to happen to her?
What did he have planned to do with her? She began to panic, her breathing rapid as she rolled herself over. Pulling her legs to her chest, she prayed for someone to save her.
It startled her when the van began to roll and she realized there was more than one abductor. She felt every bump as the vehicle bounced on the road, making her already jittery stomach swirl like a tornado. She swallowed it back, demanding her body not expel the contents of her breakfast because she knew the outcome would not be a pleasant one. Not with the gag over her mouth. It seemed that they drove forever, stopping here and there for moments, then rolling along again.
She knew he was near because she could hear his breathing. Her mind foggy, she couldn’t think above the pain. What should she do? What should she do?
When the van stopped and she heard a door open, then close, she sucked in a deep breath, her stomach tense as she prepared for the worse. The screech of metal startled her as the sliding door opened. Her heart began to race so fast she thought she might pass out.
“Grab her legs.”
“Her mouth is bleeding.”
“Yeah.” He laughed.
She felt hands sliding under her back as another set grabbed hold of her ankles. Her body tensed as they lifted and shifted her. Where were they taking her?
“Let me go,” she mumbled through the cloth in her mouth, jerking her body in an attempt to break free.
“Hold her.”
“I’ve got her.”
His hands slid under her armpits and grabbed hold of her breasts. She felt the nausea rising up in her throat.
“Cut it out.”
“Oh come on, I’m just having a little fun.”
“There’s no need for that.”
Liz heard a door creak, keys jingling, then another door opening. There wasn’t another sound to be heard anywhere. Silence still in the air, Liz wondered where she’d been taken.
“I can take her from here.”
“I’ve already got a good grip.”
One voice was deep, the other whiny and higher in tone. The one with the higher tone had been in the back of the van with her, and the one who’d hit her. How many others were there?
The way they shifted her, she judged that she was being carried up a flight of stairs, and from the sound of the stairs, they weren’t carpeted. The one holding her feet wore boots of some sort that made a clomping sound as he stepped. And the one near her head wore softer soled shoes, maybe running shoes. His hands were soft, despite the brutality, and he wore something with buttons down the front. He smelt like cheap cologne and sweat.
Everything she could, she put to memory. Even if she couldn’t see her abductors, at least she could identify them by smell and sound.
“Set her down on the chair.”
The deep voiced one. She felt the chair beneath her butt, then hands pressing her down. The instant the hands slid from around her chest, she bolted up, attempting to break free. It didn’t matter that she couldn’t see, she wasn’t going to sit still while they did God knew what to her.
“Hold her down, damn it.”
“I didn’t think she would make a break for it.”
The hand that grabbed her viciously yanked her down, planting her hard into the chair, and when he leaned down and whispered in her ear, she knew it was the snooty one. “Try that again and I’ll knock you so hard you won’t remember your name.”
“Hey, settle down.”
“Just tie her up already.”
The one with the deep voice didn’t seem to care much for the snooty voiced one. She felt something brush over her chest and she tensed up. When it pulled against her, she realized they were tying her up with a rope. “Please, let me go,” she mumbled through the cloth.
“Not going to happen, sweetheart.”
The deep voiced one was tying her up. He had a different smell to him, something familiar. Calvin, he wore Calvin cologne and he wore boots of some sort, his voice was deep and he didn’t seem to like his partner.
Remember it, Liz, remember every detail.
“There, that should hold her.”
She flinched as the hands touched the back of her head, then realized they were untying her blind fold. It slid away and she blinked rapidly, trying to get her eyes to focus. The hands worked at the back of her head once more, untying the gag.
“Please, please just let me go.” She wished she could rub her eyes to make them focus.
“Maybe you should have left the gag over her mouth.”
Her eyes shifted to her left where the voice came from.
Through her blurred vision, she could make out the figure standing at her side. Blinking her lashes, she saw he wore a mask, a female mask, and he was tall and thin. He wore a silk green shirt with buttons running along the front. And as her eyes focused she looked into the mask of Betty Rubble.
“She’s secured, we can go now.”
Her head turned to her right and to the big man moving out from behind her. He wore a white polo style shirt, blue jeans and work boots, and as he turned to face her, she saw the Bart Simpson mask that covered his entire head, save the eyes and mouth.
She’d been abducted by Betty Rubble and Bart Simpson.
“What are you planning to do with me?”
Betty Rubble turned to her and when he laughed her body tensed up. It reminded her of a creepy murderer’s laugh she’d heard so many times in the movies.
“Everything I possibly can.”
Her heart thundered with fear and as she watched them leaving the room, she wished she could wake up from this horrible nightmare.

……………………………………………………………………………..

“What the hell is wrong with you?”
“I’m just having some fun.”
“Well, lay off it already. This isn’t real, Terry, remember that.” Pulling the mask from his face, tossing it on the table as he passed it by, Mac ran a hand through his dark hair in frustration. Pushing through the screen door he stepped out into the hot sun and looked out at the property before him.
He couldn’t understand why the banks wouldn’t give him an extension on his mortgage and he again wished there’d been some other way to get the money to save his property rather than abducting a woman. He’d had no choice, he reminded himself as he slid behind the wheel of the van. He had a month to come up with the money to save his father’s farm, his home, and this just fell into his lap at the right time.
He started the van and pulled it around back to the garage. And besides, she was safe with him. It wasn’t real, like he’d told Terry.
Then why did he have this sickening feeling in the pit of his belly?

Shiela Stewart
www.shielasbooks.ca