by Vivi Paige
Her gaze flashed to my crotch for a split second. I didn’t know if it was subliminal or a calculated manipulation. In either event, it worked because I pitched a tent right there and lost my train of thought. But then she spoke again.
“Look, I’ve seen enough shows and movies to know how this works.” Her voice wavered and tears glistened in the corners of her eyes. “I’ve seen your face, so that means there’s no way I’m walking out of this mess alive. Right?”
She sobbed, and I moved quickly over and kneeled in front of her chair, resting my hand on her bare knee.
“Hey, cut that out,” my voice more pleading than insistent to my own ears. “You’re going home in one piece.”
“But I can…” she sniffled. “But I can identify you… you can’t afford to let me go. I know how it works.”
“Do you?” I asked. “Let me lay this on you, Scarlett. Did you know that less than ten percent of robbery suspects—unmasked, caught on multiple security cameras—get caught?”
“No,” she said hopefully. “That doesn’t sound right, though. I mean, if they were on camera…”
“Yeah, but surely you’ve lived long enough to have seen a person who reminded you of someone else? Maybe a lot like someone else. The truth is, eyewitnesses and even photographic evidence can’t garner a conviction on their own. What are you going to tell the police? That some white guy with black hair took you captive? There’s four million mooks just like me in New York City alone.”
She laughed but still seemed unconvinced.
“I’m afraid you kind of stick out in a crowd, Wolf,” she said. “For one thing, most guys aren’t drop dead gorgeous in New York. Not even close.”
There she went again. Trying to manipulate me. Still, I wound up smiling in spite of myself.
“That may or may not be true, but still… there are a dozen people who will swear to God and everyone that I was on a fishing trip upstate over this weekend. Prominent people, with connections. If the cops want to check, they’ll even find that my cell phone data backs up this alibi. I’m a professional, Scarlett. I’ve babysat a ton of clients before you, and guess what? They all went home alive.”
“Thank you,” she wiped her tears. “I don’t know if you’re being honest with me or not, but I think you are, and it does help me feel better.”
I nodded, but then heaved a heavy sigh.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“I’m going to have to leave and collect some supplies,” I said. “And that means I have to make sure you won’t get up to any mischief while I’m gone.”
Her eyes went wide, and she paled by several shades. After a shaky laugh, she lifted her chained ankle for my inspection.
“Come on, Wolf,” she said in a pleading tone. “What am I going to do? Snap my chain and then pull a Princess Leia and choke you with it when you come home?”
I didn’t change my expression or offer a comment.
“I’m sorry, for what it’s worth.” I headed out to the garage. I recovered some items from the trunk that I’d packed without ever intending to use them. Truly, I never thought I would leave her alone once we got to my safe house, but now I supposed it was a good thing I brought them.
Of course, I wished at the time that I’d had less foresight. I could have used that as an excuse to just trust the chain to keep her out of trouble. But my conscience wouldn’t let me not use what I’d brought with me. I had to think about more than just me, or Scarlett for that matter. I had to consider my family, and the firm, and the fact that if she escaped, she would ironically be in more danger.
Scarlett whimpered when she saw what I brought in.
“No,” she said. “Please. I’ll just sit right here in this chair until you get back. I promise.”
“I’m sorry, Scarlett,” I whispered, handing her a pair of foam sponge balls. “Squeeze them tight, make a fist.”
One thing about a babysitting gig is this: it’s really, really, really hard to restrain someone in a way that they won’t eventually be able to get out of. That crap you see in the movies doesn’t fly. In order to ensure your guest remains out of trouble, you have to make them pretty uncomfortable.
She did as I told her, squeezing the foam balls. Then I slipped a pair of my—clean—calf-high sweat socks over her hands up to her elbows.
Scarlett’s eyes welled with silent tears, but she made no more protests as I used a fuck ton of rope to lasso up her sock-shrouded arms. This took her fingers out of the equation.
I really didn’t want to use the handcuffs, because they could damage the radial nerve during a struggle. And I knew she would be struggling as soon as I walked out the door and left her alone. Instead, I pulled her arms behind her back behind the chair and securely bound her wrists together with some rope.
Scarlett heaved an exasperated sigh as I wound tape around her waist and above and below her breasts.
“Jesus Christ, man, will you give it a rest? I’m obviously not going anywhere.”
“I’ll see to that,” I muttered, though I’ll admit I was probably going a bit overboard. I really didn’t want her to get hurt, though, more so than I was worried about being caught.
Pro tip: you don’t want to ever put duct tape on bare skin, unless you don’t mind losing said skin. And I was determined that if I had any say in the matter at all, not one hair on her head would be harmed.
“Open your mouth,” I said, holding up the device that made her whimper the most, a plastic ball gag with holes. No chance of it slipping down her throat and choking her, and the holes made it easy to breathe.
“No,” she shook her head. “Please, I’ll be quiet, I swear…”
“Open.” More insistent that time. Then I added, as banal as it sounded, “For your own good, open up, Scarlett.”
Sniffling, she closed her eyes and did what she was told. I shoved the ball into her mouth and pulled it deep behind her teeth. She groaned in protest, but if you didn’t make these things really tight, the wearer could push them out with ease. Once it was buckled behind her head, I stepped away and felt a terrible stab of guilt looking at her trussed-up form.
“I’m sorry.” It sounded lame to my own ears and I kissed the top of her head. “I’ll be back soon, okay?”
Then I turned away and left quickly on legs rubbery with fading resolve. I went to the side of the room, dug out my phone and called my big brother Devlin.
“How’s the gig going?” Devlin asked by way of answering his phone.
“How you think it’s going, you son of a bitch?” I snapped.
“What’s wrong? Did the client get away?”
“The client is secure.” A stab of guilt hit me right in the heart. “But I’m heading on a grocery store run because some asshole forgot to stock up the beach house.”
“Oh yeah, I did say I’d take care of that,” Devlin laughed. “Sorry.”
Fucker didn’t sound sorry.
“Sorry? I’ll show you sorry, pencil neck,” I sputtered. “After this job is done, me and you are going to have words.”
“Like the last time we had words, right before you left? Dental work is expensive, you know.”
He was referring to my knocking out his front teeth after he stole my girlfriend, not threatening me with a beating. But I took the hint anyway. Family did not fight family. It’s the first cardinal rule of the firm.
“Never mind,” I muttered. “There might be another problem. Turns out the baby girl is estranged from dear old daddy. He might not cough up.”
“He’ll cough,” Devlin assured me. “But if he doesn’t… well, you understand the firm’s reputation has to be… protected.” I grew silent, and his tone was harsh when he spoke again. “Do you understand, Will?”
“Yeah. I understand,” I snapped, ending the call.
If Scarlett’s father didn’t pay, Devlin had ordered me to kill her.
Chapter Eight
I tried not to look like I was eavesdropping. Technically, I wasn’
t. This place wasn’t very big, from what I could tell. I heard his end of the conversation from where he stood. Aside from static mutterings through what I assumed was a burner phone, I couldn’t make out what the person on the other end of the line was saying.
I’m sure the Big Bad Wolf got new instructions from some Bigger Badder Wolf.
“Stay here.” My Wolf tugged on a jacket.
You’re kidding, right? I wanted to say as much, but the ball gag made it impossible. Instead, I made a show of rattling my chains.
“Right,” he chuckled. “Good point. I’m not worried. Any food allergies I should know about?”
I fixed him with the coldest stare I could muster. What was he? My fucking flight attendant?
“I’ll avoid peanuts just to be safe. That’s one of the most common ones. If you’re allergic to processed wheat or something… well, you’re shit out of luck.” He reached for the door and then hesitated. “You’re not one of those all-organic, free-range, fair-trade vegans, are ya?”
Again, I could only narrow my eyes.
“If you are, I’m not sure I can accommodate that,” he continued. “We’ll be lucky if I can get to anything more substantial than a 7-Eleven. I hope you like Cheeto puffs and powdered doughnuts. That might be all you get until tomorrow. I assume beer is fine?”
I let out an indignant squawk which only made him smile more.
Bastard. This isn’t supposed to be fun for either of us.
“Do me a favor, will ya?” he asked. “Don’t scream or anything. This will go better for everyone involved if you follow the rules like a good girl.”
Oh, I’m definitely going to knock at least one of his teeth out before I’m rescued. That’s a goddamned promise.
“You look like you’re thinking very hard.” He tilted his head. “Don’t wear yourself out.”
I rolled my eyes. He was lucky I had a gag in my mouth.
He hesitated by the door. Maybe he was trying to decide if leaving me unattended really was a smart idea. He didn’t look back. Instead, he sighed and headed out.
Weirdly enough, now that I was alone, the realities of my situation felt far more terrifying. According to every crime show ever, this was the time I should have felt braver.
My wrists ached from my bindings. Getting free would be the first step to getting out of here. There might not have been much I could do about the handcuffs, but I could work with ropes.
I didn’t notice it before, but I was quite familiar with the sort of knot my Big Bad Wolf has used to tie me up. Looked like I wasn’t the only one with a little experience in this area. Shame he didn’t take me up on my offer. I believed we could have a ton of fun in bed.
Thanks to a childhood of ballet and gymnastics, combined with yoga classes a few times a week, I was a spry little lady. It hurt like hell, but after twenty minutes of bending and twisting, I was able to get myself into a position where I could bite at my bindings.
Except, I’d forgotten one small detail. The fucking ball gag. That should have been a tip-off that the Big Bad Wolf was into some big bad things in bed.
Without free use of my hands, getting the ball gag off was going to be a unique challenge. I bent forward and turned my head as far to the side as it could go. Lifting my leg so that the side of my knee pressed against the gag fastening, I started moving my head. All I needed to do was loosen the restraint just enough to slip the gag down over my jaw.
I felt completely ridiculous, but I was now glad for my costume. My legs were mostly unrestricted, allowing that kind of movement to be possible. The fastening gave a tiny amount.
“Yef!” I cheered through the gag. A few more wriggles and the fastening was loose enough to slide down.
I stretched my jaw and rubbed my lips together. As far as ball gags went, that one wasn’t the worst I’d ever experienced. They weren’t my cup of tea in the first place, though, so what did I know?
The ropes would be another challenge. The Big Bad Wolf was pretty damn good at knots. If I didn’t know which bit to tug on, I’d certainly be stuck here forever.
I took the bindings between my teeth and thrashed my head. It hurt. My jaw was still tender from being held open in such an odd way. I considered tearing through the rope with my teeth like some kind of goddamned woodland creature, but I didn’t think I had enough bite power to pull it off.
Then again, some say we have the bite power to take a finger off as if it were a carrot. I didn’t want to be the one to test that theory. Years of expensive retainers, braces, and other hardware made my pearly whites a well-earned prize.
Finally, the binding gave a little. More tugging, biting, and some uncomfortable tonguing ensued until the bindings went slack. Arms free, I tore the ball gag off completely.
“For fuck’s sake,” I muttered.
Once on my feet, I tried to take a look around the place. There must have been some kind of clue as to where I was. We drove for some time, but it felt like we sat in traffic for part of the journey. Either that or the Wolf delighted in stopping and going in rapid succession just to fuck with me. That seemed like a distinct possibility.
I took a step toward the kitchen when my leg was nearly yanked out from under me.
Right.
The fucking ankle chain. Even worse, I had to pee. The bathroom was too far away.
There had to be something nearby I could use to pick the lock. Unfortunately, the Wolf must have thought of that. There was nothing remotely useful within reach of me. I couldn’t get to the kitchen—just the edge of the kitchen island. All of those sharp, pretty knives and tools weren’t an option.
There was a coffee table pushed into the hallway with a few small drawers. I got on my hands and knees, crawled as far as I could, and reached for the closest drawer. It was empty.
“Bastard,” I shrieked. “Fuck you, you stupid Big Bad Wolf Bastard! Fuck you! Fuck you! Fuck! You!”
I felt ten times better after that little outburst. It was quite cathartic. With a little luck, maybe someone heard me. With no other option, I continued to scream.
“Can anyone hear me?” I screamed as loudly as I could. My throat burned and ached, but I kept trying. It occurred to me that if anyone could hear me, they likely couldn’t communicate that to me. Or maybe they were trying their best, but I couldn’t hear them over my own screams.
I fell silent and waited for a few moments. When nothing happened, I began shouting once more.
“Can anyone help me?” I couldn’t keep screaming like this. My throat was going to give out. If the Big Bad Wolf heard me, he might go back on his word about hurting me.
Dejected and out of ideas, I shuffled back to my chair. I wasn’t about to put the bindings and ball gag back in place, but I figured I might as well get comfortable while I waited.
Twenty minutes later, the door unlocked, and the Big Bad Wolf stepped inside.
“Good news,” he said. “I found an actual grocery store. Neither of us will have to eat like shit while we wait for your father.”
“You’re still convinced you’re going to get your money?” I asked.
“Yes, I—hey, what the fuck?” He set the grocery bags down on the table before whirling around to look at me. His mouth dropped open in shock, but he quickly recovered. “Remind me to tighten the ropes next time. I was trying to be a gentleman and not cut off your circulation.”
As much as he tried to resist, his eyes raked over my body. My bare legs were slightly parted, just enough to put myself on display. I felt what I felt when we were making out in the club. He wanted me. I just had to push him to the point where he could no longer resist me. It wasn’t my favorite way to get the upper hand over a guy, but it was effective.
Besides, he looked like he’d be amazing in bed.
A lazy smirk spread across his mouth. “Nice try. That’s not going to work.”
“Are you sure?” I licked my lips.
“Positive.” He returned his attention to the groceries. I couldn’t help b
ut notice the growing bulge in his pants.
“You didn’t happen to get a change of clothes for me, did you?”
“Maybe I did,” he shrugged. “Maybe I didn’t.”
“Bastard.”
“That kind of talk isn’t going to get you new clothes anytime soon,” he tutted. “How did you get out of your bindings?”
“You don’t tie knots as well as you think you do,” I snapped. Now that the adrenaline had seeped out of my body, the cold set in. Goosebumps rose over every inch of my exposed skin. My teeth wanted to chatter, but I wouldn’t let that happen.
“I know for a fact that’s not true,” he smirked. “You must be flexible. Yoga?”
“I—yes, actually,” I muttered. “Good guess.”
“Not a guess,” he shrugged. “What about the ball gag? How’d you manage that?”
“I’m not going to tell you.” I kept my eyes trained on him as he moved through the house, stocking the fridge and cupboards. Anxiety twisted in my stomach. Any moment now he’d snap and punish me for being disobedient. He must not have known I screamed for help. Fat lot of good that did me anyway. No one came running to my rescue.
Even if someone did come to my rescue, who could say whether or not they’d help me or take advantage?
God, I was so screwed.
“You look like you’re about to panic.” he called out to me.
“Is that so hard to imagine?” My heart threw itself against my ribcage. “I’m sure you’re some kind of sociopath but can you at least imagine what this must be like from my point of view?”
“Did anyone ever tell you it’s not wise to threaten your captor?” he shot back. “I’m not a sociopath, by the way. If I had a choice, I’d do this differently.”
“Yes, they did. However, I’ve never been known to stick to a script,” I said pointedly.
“You’re joking, right?”
“I’m the daughter of one of the wealthiest men in the country. My father has literally made me sit through PowerPoint presentations on what to do if I’m kidnapped and held for ransom,” I replied.
