by Kiki Howell
"Now, I don't mean to sound bossy, but I have instructed Jacob to do whatever is necessary to keep you safe, which to me means keeping you with him, even if he has to chain you to himself or a bed or whatever until this is all over. We all know you to be a headstrong woman, justifiably so, as you are also quite capable of taking care of yourself. It's just, in this situation, against these sort of men, I will take no chances with your life. Sylvia would have my hide. So, everything will be handled until I know you are safe. Again, you have my sincere apologies. This is why I never date a girl more than a few times, but I was doing Sylvia a favor. Not to say I didn't enjoy my time with you, I did, you are a nice girl, but this isn't what you want to hear right now, as you probably hate me at the moment anyway. So again, my apologies. You are in good hands. Please, let Jacob be your savior. And, yes, Sylvia told me to say that last line just like that, though it is true. I believe he will be." With that last bombshell of his, as there had been multiple in the speech, the phone went dark and the recording ceased.
Sam didn't relax one bit, though, rather her entire body became aware of each and every inch of where hers and Jacob's connected. She could still hear the commotion on the other side of the wall. They weren't safe yet. She blamed still being in flight or flight mode for the way her skin tingled given she had no magic to blame it on at the moment. She certainly wasn't about to admit it had anything at all to do with Jacob or how his skin felt where it pressed against hers. Nope. Not at all.
"Relax," Jacob demanded in her ear, his voice low, deep, and harsh. "I have you. I'm going to keep you safe. Nod if I can trust you not to scream if I remove my hand from your mouth."
She nodded fast multiple times until gray specks hindered her sight, which had just begun to adapt to the shadows in the darkness. With her affirmation, he slid his other hand around her middle again, pulling her in to him as if they could get any closer than they already were. Each and every muscle in her core tightened. She nodded again for some unknown reason. The muscles in her neck and shoulders were so tense they protested this movement with both pain and nausea, making her grit her teeth, as much an instinct as a means of keeping the nodded promise. His hand on her mouth moved away at a snail's pace, the distrust evident. His chest rose and fell in an exaggerated motion, even more so than it had been. This increased her own breath again, making her ache to just slouch back into him, let him protect her, be her savior. Although something stubborn, something defiant, in her kept her from doing so.
She continued to sit up straight, took in a few gulps of air now that she had more than just her nose to rely on for the basic need. Thick, dirty air, heavy with ages of mold and dust, filled her lungs. To stifle the cough that threatened, she closed her mouth tight, focused on breathing through her nose as much as she could manage. She couldn't come up with one of her breathing exercises, as just the inhale and exhale were tough enough at the moment, regulating the air in and out so as not to pass out.
"Get comfortable, if you can. We are going to be here for a while until they clear out. Even then, we will have to wait, as I am sure they will watch the place for a time. I will get the all clear through the phone to let me know when it is safe for our ride to come and rescue us."
He'd whispered all of that in her ear, sending goose bumps to rise over her flesh. She stayed as she sat, stiff frame, overly cognizant of each spot where they connected. His free hand, the one that had been over her mouth, came to rest beside her upper thigh. Given the tight corridors, it was about all he had. Heat rose from his palms, one on her leg, one on her side.
As she calmed herself, little by little, she became more aware of the filth of their dark surroundings as her sight adjusted to see into the shadows. She couldn't so much see it, as smell it, more and more. The shadows took on new meaning, her eyes playing a game with her of cobwebs and dust, until she could feel the grime coating her sweaty skin.
Chapter Five
"Listen to me, Samantha, we have been cleared to go now. But first, I need to see your wrist." he said, still a whisper in her ear.
After having sat there for hours, she now literally leaned against him out of sheer necessity, her body having given out to sit up straight hours ago. Her mind as numb as her ass, she'd given it over to let fears and fantasies run free some time ago. She didn't protest when he used the flashlight on his phone, propping it up on his leg, half blinding her. She looked away, let him take her arm, as she felt him slip something that felt like a leather bracelet over her hand to her wrist. It tightened a bit, snug but not too tight, before she heard a lock click. She jumped, no longer cognizant of the side effects of adrenal fatigue that had overtaken every ounce of her body.
"What the hell was that?" she asked, her voice a hissed whisper, though they were supposedly alone.
"Don't freak, all right? These are Ian's orders. He thinks once we are out in public that you will not listen to me, that you will stubbornly run thinking you can save yourself. While he appreciates your independence, and stubborn streak, he doesn't think it will help you stay safe at this time. So, he bought these cuffs..."
"Cuffs? As in handcuffs?" she spit out, the volume of her voice increasing, echoing off the chamber of horrors she sat in.
At one point, she knew she'd heard mice, or some sort of rodent. Jacob had wiggled as much as he could, scaring it off, soothing her with words of protection.
"Yes and No."
"Which is it? What is on my wrist," she said yanking it, not getting very far, though she hadn't a lot of room anyway.
"Well, what you have on is kink related merchandise, actually. You know, fifty shades of gray and all that shit. So anyone who sees us going into a hotel will just think us into that. Ian got them also because the leather will make them not hurt, not cut into your skin like regular handcuffs would. But, they are clipped together by a metal band that takes a key to get out of. Trust me, there is no getting out of them no matter how much you yank. The lock and chain are unbreakable, even for me."
He moved then, pushing her back upright with some effort, because she felt more like a rag doll, unable to demand anything of her limbs. At the same time, he twisted around behind her until he took her hand in his and she heard another click. With this all sinking in, given her state of exhaustion, her fight had left her physically, though mentally it was kicking back in.
"You have got to be kidding me. This isn't protection. You are not my savior, but now my kidnapper," she said, spitting the words at him as tears stung her eyes.
"See it as you will, but I will keep you safe, be your savior as everyone keeps saying, though I think the word ridiculous. I'm a damn bodyguard, saving is in the job description. It doesn't make me a savior. But, that is an argument for another time. I will protect you at whatever cost. I'm employed by Ian, not you. I'm sorry. I will be kind. I promise you. These cuffs will keep you safe. You are attached to me for your own protection, plus they do keep up our ruse as a couple once we check into a hotel."
"A hotel?"
"Yes. A hotel. What did you think, I would just let you out of here and let you go home? They have your place staked out. They are waiting for you to be stupid enough to go there. We have to run away. For a while, anyway. Ian has to get this matter handled, until then it won't be safe for you to return home. So, you are going to be stuck with me for some time. Get used to it. Don't make it harder than it has to be. I'm not the bad guy here. I'm the good guy. It would be wise for you to try to remember that from time to time."
"You have got to be kidding me? I have a studio to run!"
"You really think you do after word of this attack gets out? Can we try to gather some sense of clarity here?"
"So, you have ruined my life as well as my livelihood? All this for dating Ian, when it was just a ploy by Sylvia anyway? What the fuck?"
"Ploy?" he asked before shaking his head.
"No! Yes. Oh, forget it," she managed, spitting out one word, stumbling over the next.
"Never mind. List
en. Please, Samantha," Jacob continued, his voice harsh, abrupt, as his free hand shot up, though then it just hung there as if he no longer knew what he wanted to do with it.. "While the coast is clear, you need to calm down and keep it together. I'm going to keep you safe, but the longer you fight me, act like a petulant child, the longer you will remain a prisoner of sorts, if that is how you chose to see it, for your own damn protection. As I see it, you are more my ward, my queen, if that helps, one I will protect with everything in me, until my dying breath, by whatever means I deem necessary. It would greatly benefit us both if you would to come to see it my way. Then you can have your freedom back, or at least your arm. You want to live? Do as I say. Be quiet. Play along. Or, I can drug you, which I see as far worse than just cuffing you to me, acting as if you are my kinky date or something. So don't fuck with me. I'm warning you."
He'd scolded her into a stunned silence. She'd never heard his voice take on such a tone, so low, so angry, so on the edge of control. Without her magic, still his dark emotions came off him in waves, practically suffocating her along with the dirty air. His free hand finally gripped into a tight fist and fell to his side with a thud against his thigh.
The noise flicked at every overwrought nerve. Afraid a word would make her burst into tears, she kept silent. Too tired to argue, she gave into self-preservation. The wall in front of them opened suddenly, distracting her. She looked around her studio, instantly noticing the yoga mats and blocks, bolsters and blankets, everything that had been set out for her students to use had been thrown around, stepped on, but no bodies remained. They'd stayed in the wall as each one had woken up, she guessed, and hopefully been checked out by paramedics from what she could gather through the wall. Cops or detectives, or whatever had asked them questions, too, before they had all left one way or another. She had heard a few tearful reunions as she sat there, helpless to do anything for any of them.
Jacob had quietly whispered soothing words in her ear through all of it, trying to reason with her, trying to ease her emotions that had produced tears she kept to a silent whimpering. He'd tried whatever he could, she figured, speaking usually in response to a movement of her body, whether a reflex to emotion or from a cramping limb.
He had been quite the help through the hours of it all, a great comfort even, if she'd allow herself to admit it.
He'd saved her a million times from pushing through the door, trying to help, reminding her over and over again that to do so she would only get them both killed along with everyone else left out there. He had been her savior, in more ways than one, for the last several hours, though it seemed like days. For a moment, and a moment only, she forgave him for the harsh measures in doing so, and for the cuff on her wrist.
All in my own best interest, my ass, she countered. The wave of gratefulness gone as quickly as it had come.
Another of Ian's guards, Chris, helped her up as Jacob followed. Feeling a tug on her wrist, her gaze flashed to where, just as he'd described it, a black leather band clung to her arm, a metal lock on one spot. A dangle of chain connected her to a matching leather band on his wrist. The chain between them fell long enough for him to continue to hold her hand but not much more. They could walk side by side as if he were her Dom taking her for a night of pleasure in a hotel. What the fucking hell?
She couldn't imagine how anyone would explain away their filth within that scenario, though. They were both covered head to toe in dirt smudges and dust. Glancing behind them, she could now see where he had cut the wall, along lines in the wood, all the way to the ceiling, so when shut, no one could tell an opening ever existed there. She'd had a lock put on the door to the furnace room when she remodeled the place a bit, figuring it just best for the safely of her clients to not have easy access to the room.
She'd no idea why anyone but a repair man would want in there, anyway, but figuring safety first she'd gone with the logic, not intending the simple act would end up saving her life. She assumed whomever had come after her must have decided the lock on the door meant she wouldn't be in there. Hell, the furnace barely fit in there. Even if they had, they probably still wouldn't have seen her and Jacob, as they would have faded into the darkness and filth behind the old, clunky metal box.
Regardless of all of that nonsense now, as she stood there, alive at this moment, she wanted a shower in the worst way. While her skin crawled, and beyond that, itched, dusting herself off or even rubbing over her arms where she could see the worst of it, would be a pointless venture, probably only making matters worse. She flashed a slight grin while looking up at Jacob, noticing a dark smudge under his eye where he must have attempted to rub away sweat. As he scanned their surroundings, moved them along inch-by-inch, he hadn't noticed her at all. She could only imagine that to him she was nothing more than a body to move, a job with a heartbeat to protect.
Under the cover of night, a dreary one with a chill in the air that promised rain at that, Jacob had led her, cuffed to him so she had no choice but to keep up, to keep moving. Off the beaten path, they walked at a brisk pace. His body served as a shield from the wind picking up at a steady clip, howling through the trees, at times even shrieking like that sound often used in horror movies. She imagined someone sitting on a couch, yelling at her to not go that way, to turn back.
Though to what, she questioned the imaginary person before coming to grips with her delirium. At least the insanity had stayed in her head, though she couldn't imagine trying to talk to Jacob now would do her much good. He marched on, his head moving back and forth, his sharp gaze observing everything around them, sometimes giving her a momentary glance as well. She stumbled a few times, over a rock or branch having blown upon their path. He'd grab for her then, blindly, making sure she stayed upright before moving them on.
Shadows in the trees, changed by the close to full moon moving in and out of the deepening clouds, gave rise to new imaginings of horror, from a knife wielding human to a demonic being, each worse than the last as she swore off scary movies for good.
After what seemed like an hour walk, though she knew it could only be about ten minutes, her stiff legs still not yet relenting to her movements, they approached an old truck waiting in a now abandoned parking lot. Dented and rusted, the back filled with tools and, well, perhaps trash, she couldn't tell. At this time of night out in the woods the darkness obscured the reality of many things. At least she didn't fear the getting dirty thing at the moment. Her clothes, at this point, were just ruined anyway. If she ever made it home, she wouldn't even attempt to wash them. They'd be forever branded as bad luck, and she wasn't even the superstitious type.
She hadn't realized, however, that her current fate would see her a passenger in the bed of the truck rather than the cab. A man she didn't recognize sat in the cab. Two of Ian's guards, Ron and David, helped her and Jacob into the bed of the truck, shifting boxes, bags, and toolboxes around, giving them room to move until they sat against the outer wall of the cab where he pulled her to him again. This time her side pressed against his chest. She laid her head against the hard warmth, too, when the men covered them up with a few dirty, heavy blankets like the ones used to cover furniture when moving it. At her first sign of protest, he covered her mouth again with his one free hand, urgently trying to make her understand the need to stay silent. Again, whispering warnings in her ear, his deep voice, the rush of breath, the heat enveloping her in his embrace all combined to send goose bumps flashing over her skin. She explained them away with practical reasons rather than the fact she'd been literally attached to the man for hours on end, feeling his body against hers. While yes, in danger, many times her mind had wandered to the sensations of being pressed against him. It may have been her errant thoughts, but at a few points, she swore the lump at her ass had hardened. He'd adjusted, though he'd had little room to do so, actually only making it worse. Her body, not yet dead, had responded in kind, tightening up in some areas, dampening in others. While maybe not the right time for such thoughts or
concerns, she didn't berate herself figuring she'd rather die horny than scared shitless. There were pauses in the fear, few and far between, the trembling, the panting, the stiff muscles, the desire and need to run, when she could give into wild thoughts, run free with wayward emotions, allowing her to catch her breath. Delirium, distraction, she didn't give a damn given the moment's reprieve from the horror show that had become her life.
The truck bumped along, making its way to a highway she guessed by the change in sound and speed. At that point, rather than lose her mind over being still filthy and now covered with the heavy, musty blanket, once again in the dark, her body pressed tightly against this man, she let her weariness take her, nodding off or passing out several times, despite it all.
Chapter Six
Dopey. That had to be the word for what she felt as she stumbled into a hotel room behind Jacob, still attached to him by the restraints around her wrists. He continued to play the part while she walked with her head down, fearing someone, anyone else might walk into the empty parking lot and see them. With their hands clasped together like lovers, the handcuffs gave the appearance they were a playful couple or Dom and sub who had just finished cleaning out a filthy basement or something.
As the door closed behind them, locking them in the dingy room that probably rented out by the hour as well, she couldn't decide if she wanted to be grateful or terrified. To make strides toward some remnant of sanity, breaking it down for herself into the simplest terms, she'd essentially been kidnapped by her savior. She no longer had any doubt of the full double meaning of that name for him, though she wasn't ready to deal with the implications of either.
