Some men were just not that bright; her abductor, apparently, was one of them. “You may be wary of me, but you certainly are stupid.” Setting her coffee cup on the floor, she began untying herself. It didn’t take her long to get the ropes off, even with her left hand, given the fact that she was ambidextrous. Grabbing the chair she’d been tied to, she waited by the door for him to return.
“You messed with the wrong woman, big guy.” Giddy with excitement, she waited for him to return. She knew there would be no way she could get past him if she didn’t knock him out, and she hoped the chair did the trick. When she heard his familiar steps coming towards her, she felt the excitement ripple inside of her. Lifting the chair as best she could, she grunted with its weight; then with great patience, she waited.
The keys jingled, the door knob turned, the door opened. The instant he entered the doorway, she sent the chair crashing down on him. With a hearty groan, he went down.
“Yes!” Jumping over him, Liz darted from the room, freedom in her sights. Though she hadn’t knocked him out, she’d momentarily stunned him, which gave her enough time to make a break for it.
“She’s loose,” Mac called out, pushing the chair aside and bracing himself as he tried to stand.
She was free at last and nothing was going to prevent her from leaving. Seeing Betty Rubble blocking the bottom of the stairs didn’t faze her; she lifted her foot and kicked him right in the face. Her bare foot sang with pain. Ignoring it, she jumped over his slumped body and searched for an escape. She’d have plenty of time to deal with the pain after she was free.
“Grab her,” Mac yelled as he ran down the stairs.
“She fucking kicked me.”
“Deal with it, she’s getting away.” Jumping over Terry’s body at the bottom of the stairs, Mac ran after her.
She saw the back door and darted for it. Her hand reached out to the door knob as he caught up with her, grabbing her by the arm. She screamed, turning, fists ready.
Managing to avoid the fist flying towards his face, Mac grabbed her hand. “Son-of-a-bitch.” His shin rang with pain from the blow from her foot.
“Let me go.” She lashed out again, using her other hand to beat on his arms to get him to release her.
“The hell I will.” Spinning her, he pinned her against the door. “Get over here and help me already.”
Holding his bleeding nose, Terry swaggered towards Mac. “Just smack her, that’ll calm her down.”
“There’s been enough hitting. Grab her legs when I turn her.” Holding both arms behind her back, he spun them both and hooked one of his legs around hers to prevent her from booting Terry.
“You won’t get away with this.” Liz struggled, fighting to break free. When Betty grabbed her ankles, she bent her knees and tried pushing him away.
“Hold her,” Mac warned him with stern eyes.
“I’ve got her.”
“You’ll pay for this, you bastards.” Twisting her body wildly, she made it damn near impossible for them to hang on to her. They carried her back up the stairs and into the bedroom as she struggled. She finally managed to slip her hands free of Bart’s hold, so she struck out at him and connected with Bart’s jaw.
“Yes, take that you bastard.” Her victory was sort lived as he grabbed her hands in one of his, then released her body having her angling nearly to the floor.
“Get her to the bed.”
“Now we’re talking.”
“No, no don’t, please don’t.” Liz quivered; she knew that tone in Betty’s voice and she couldn’t go through that
“Just grab the ropes.”
The instant he set her on the bed, she tried to break free. Her breath hitched when he climbed on top of her, pinning her down. “You won’t get away with this. I’ll see you both burn in hell for what you’ve done to me.” She bucked with her hips even though it was useless given the fact the guy weighed a great deal more than she did.
“Yeah, you keep dreaming, princess. Tie up her legs.”
“Ouch,” Liz gasped when Betty yanked her foot hard.
“Take it easy. There’s no need to be rough, Betty.”
“She fucking kicked me, Bart.” Betty grabbed her other foot with as much force as he had the other.
“Get out of here, I’ll deal with her. Go,” Bart demanded.
“Whatever.” Throwing his hands in the air, Betty shot Liz a nasty glare, then left the room.
“Now, let’s get these hands of yours tied up.”
“Get off of me, you brute.” She bucked, trying to knock him off of her. He fell forwards, his head hitting hers. “Ouch.”
Her pulse began to flutter again and she felt her body react in the most pleasant of ways. They both stilled. Though she stared into the face of a silly cartoon mask, she saw the warm eyes behind it and felt herself lost in his gaze.
Holding her hands with one of his, he used the other to touch her bleeding lip. “You’re bleeding,” he said softly, his eyes shifting to meet hers.
“Oh,” she sighed, lost in his gaze.
“I should clean it up for you.”
“Uh huh,” she panted, licking her lip. She tasted the blood and it drew her back. Blinking her eyes, breaking the hold he’d had on her, she came back to reality with a hard thud. “Get off of me already, you jerk.”
“You’ve got a real smart mouth there, princess.”
“And you’re as heavy as an elephant.” She bucked again, then remembered what happened the last time and settled down.
“If you had any weight on you, you might have been more successful in taking me out.” He slid off of her and stood, looked down then quickly turned away. “I’ll be right back with something for your lip.”
The door closed and she heard him lock it from the other side. Blowing out a deep breath, Liz tried to get her system to level out. She felt hot, but it had nothing to do with the warmth of the room. She knew this feeling and it was not a comfortable one. She’d seen the bulge in his pants before he abruptly turned and hurried from the room, and lord it was doing a number to her system. How on earth could she be feeling desire? The guy was her abductor.
As she lay on the bed, her arms tied above her head, she wondered what it would have felt like if he’d kissed her.
Sifting through the medicine cabinet in the hallway washroom, Mac tried to get his mind off of Liz. There was something seriously wrong with him for wanting her. Number one, he was holding her captive, it was wrong to want her. Number two, she was so not his type. He didn’t date prissy prima donna women. She wore designer everything and came from money and walked with her nose in the air, snubbing those beneath her—not the kind of woman who interested him.
Grabbing the skin glue, he reminded himself that in a few days it would all be over, she would go her way, he would go his. Liz would pass him sometime on the street and she wouldn’t have a clue it had been him that had taken her. Sighing, Mac wondered if he would be able to forget her as easily. Lord knew the guilt nagged him, especially after Terry’s attempted rape. His hand curled tight around the bottle. Bastard.
He needed to carry through with it; there was no other choice in that matter. Grabbing a cloth, he wet it, then walked back to the bedroom. In six days’ time, he would hand the bank the money they demanded and he would have his farm, free and clear.
Yes, but at what price?
She heard the key in the door and turned her head as he entered the room. Look at him, she thought to herself as she scanned her eyes over his body. He was big, his arms were muscular, his chest was wide, most likely as muscular as his arms, and he looked like a frikin’ body builder. So not her type, not to mention the fact that he held her captive, for Christ’s sake. Then how did he manage to turn her on? Yet when he approached, the scent of his cologne floating towards her, she felt her body stirring with need.
“I should have thought of this before.”
Her mind clicked back. Looking up into that silly childish mask, she spoke without thought. “Perhaps thinking isn’t your forte.”
“Perhaps you should be grateful I’m fixing your lip,” he snapped back, just as snide.
“Grateful, yes, I should be fucking grateful your buddy smacked me, splitting my lip. Jackass.” She flinched, waiting for the assault.
Walking to the foot of the bed, he began untying her feet from the posts but leaving them tied together.
“What are you doing?” It astounded her that she constantly got away with the verbal abuse with him and never received any sort of repercussion.
“Moving you to the chair.”
“You really are a glutton for punishment aren’t you?”
He lifted her to her feet, holding her hands tight in his and met her glare. “I learn from my mistakes, princess.”
“Stop calling me that.” She spoke through gritted teeth.
“As long as it irritates you, princess, I’ll keep using it. Let’s go.” His eyes narrowed with warning. “Don’t even try it.”
With a cocky smile, she yanked her hands free.
“And how far do you think you’ll get with your hands and your feet tied together?” Reaching out, he grabbed hold of her hands once more.
“I untied myself once, I’ll do it again.” She hopped as he pulled her towards the chair, creating as much resistance as possible.
“Only because I was stupid enough to leave you with one hand untied.” He pushed her down onto the chair.
“At least we both agree you’re stupid.”
His hands holding her against the chair, he leaned down and got right in her face. “You really are gutsy for someone being held against her will.”
Her chin jutting out, she retorted. “You don’t scare me, Bart.”
“I could change that very easily.”
One look in his eyes and she knew better. He may look big, but he didn’t scare her in the slightest. “Is that Calvin cologne? I love the scent, very soft, very…nonthreatening.” She gritted her teeth in a mock smile.
His teeth grinding, he grabbed the ropes and began winding them around her body.
“Got nothing to say to that, do you, big guy?”
“You know, I still have the gag we used on you and I’m not against using it again.”
“You wouldn’t dare,” she challenged.
With a devious smile, he walked to his dresser, pulled open the top drawer and grabbed a red hanky. Turning to her, he waved it in her face. “Oh, I dare.”
“No one will hear you.”
She’d see about that. As she opened her mouth, ready to scream, she realized her mistake. He shoved the cloth in between her teeth, then tied it behind her head.
Laughing, he moved around to face her, dusting his hands. “Still in control here, princess, best to remember that.”
“Jackass,” she mumbled through the cloth, furious.
Still laughing, he opened the door and left her to fume.
“What was that all about?” Terry asked as Mac came down the stairs.
“Me having a little fun.”
“So why is it okay for you to have fun but I can’t?”
Mac turned to him with a frown. The guy was unbelievable. “Because my kind of fun doesn’t involve assault. Make something for dinner, okay?”
“I’m not your bitch, Mac, do it yourself.”
“What the hell is your problem?”
“I’m bored of this shit already.”
“Fine, then leave.” Nothing would please him more if the guy walked.
“I’m in this just as much as you, Mac, and I’m not leaving until I get what’s mine.” Terry stood, challenging Mac.
“What? An acting gig? Like that’s reason enough to kidnap someone.” Mac snorted, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it.
“A lead role,” Terry corrected, “and let’s discuss why you’re doing it, Mac. Because your daddy couldn’t afford to make the payments on this place before he died.”
Mac’s fist curled at his side but he didn’t use it, even though he wanted to smash it into the bastards face. “Make something for dinner,” he said through gritted teeth. Yes, his father hadn’t been able to make the payments, but only because his health had been failing and he hadn’t wanted his sons to know.
“What the hell am I supposed to make?” Sitting back down, Terry picked up his journal and began writing.
“There’s chicken in the fridge, cook it however you see fit. I’ll be upstairs watching after Liz.” He crushed his cigarette out in the ashtray with a great deal of force.
“Why don’t you cook and I’ll watch her?”
“Because I don’t trust you to even look at her. Do as I tell you.”
His back up, Terry stood once more. “Who the fuck do you think you are?”
“I’m the guy who’s not telling the boss what you tried to do, and you know if he found out, you would be out on your ass without that lead role, or any fucking role for that matter. Still want to challenge me, pal?”
Gritting his teeth, Terry sat down and went back to his journal.
“Didn’t think so.” Enjoying his victory, Mac headed back up the stairs.