by Vivian Gray
But I’m not going to touch her. That’s not my way.
I need to clear my head. I lock the door to the basement bedroom behind me and head upstairs to the kitchen. I pull out a bottle of whiskey and pour myself a drink. As I stand there, gazing out of the window, I realize I have kind of a goofy smile on my face. I don’t know why, but this whole situation makes me feel like laughing.
It’s so completely absurd! Of all the families to start fucking with us, it had to be my ex’s family. And of all the people I’d ever have to kidnap, it had to be her little sister – her sexy little sister at that. You’ve now seen both Espinoza sisters naked, I muse as I take another sip off the amber liquor.
I pour myself another drink and sit back onto the easy chair in my living room. This was not how I expected today to go. I figured we’d ride for a while, case the Espinoza house, and eventually, Crusher would give me another project. I never in my wildest dreams expected that I’d have a naked Espinoza handcuffed to the bed in my basement – and still less would’ve ever expected that it would’ve been Maria.
I only met her once, and that’s only because she was helping Carmen sneak around when we were together. Back then, I knew her father would blow a gasket if he found out about us, as did she, so we used to see each other on the down low. But one night, I couldn’t contain myself, I was so intoxicated by her that I had to see her.
So I snuck up to what I assumed was her bedroom – but it was actually a shared bedroom between her and Maria. Carmen luckily reacted before there was a chance that she’d start screaming, putting her hand over the kid’s mouth to ensure that she wouldn’t cause a fuss. And, smart kid, she didn’t.
She was quiet, and we explained what was going on and why she couldn’t say a word to anyone, especially her dad. She was old enough at that point that she could understand the need for secrecy, and she and Carmen got along reasonably well.
So that’s how she knew me. But now, Maria was eighteen and clearly had come into her own as a woman. I wondered what her deal was. Was she planning to be a college girl? Or, more likely, was she looking to get into the same business as her asshole father? I didn’t know, but I resolve at this moment to find out.
I flip on the TV and let it run, not really caring what’s on – it’s some game show that looks like it’s based on something Japanese, something really fucking crazy. But I can’t really pay much attention to it.
I pour myself another drink and get up from the easy chair to make myself a sandwich. I pull out some ham, some lettuce, slice up a tomato, and add some Swiss cheese. I pour some mustard onto the bread, then bite into it. That’s when I realize that Maria’s probably going to be awake soon, and she’s going to be hungry. I make the same sandwich for her – it’s not much, but it’ll be something.
I expect she’s going to be pretty pissed when she wakes up. She’s not going to know where she is. She will know me, though, and that’s going to be a little bit of a problem. Don’t get me wrong – I’m glad I’m the one watching her, rather than one of the other guys in the MC. They would’ve gotten one look at that sexy, trimmed bush or those gorgeous tits and would’ve been on her like fly paper.
It would’ve been bad. But at the same time, she does know me. And she now knows – or will know, whenever she wakes up – what my basement looks like. There’s not a lot I can do about that – this was Crusher’s call, and he’s the boss, so what he says goes. But I realize now that I probably should’ve mentioned to Crusher that she might know me on sight. This could be a real problem later on down the road, one we hadn’t really thought through.
Unless, of course, she and the old man don’t get along. If that’s the case, we may have something good here. In fact, I wonder now if that’s not the case. Why was she driving around so late at night? Either she was on her way to a date, or she was driving off to get away from her father. Either way, all signs indicate that she and her dad aren’t exactly getting along – if she was going for a date, after all, it clearly was an illicit date; and if she wasn’t, it probably means they’d had a fight.
This could just be the whiskey talking, but goddamn, I’m feeling a hell of a lot better about this than I was an hour ago. Now, to wait for her to wake up.
Chapter Four
Maria
The first thing that I notice is that I’m cold. Too cold. Like, not freezing, but colder than I should be. I’ve got a headache, too, and I’m groggy. What the hell happened to me?
I go over what I can remember last in my mind. Last I can recall, I’d had a fight with Dad, and I’d stormed out. He’d deserved that, after all. He usually did deserve it. It wasn’t the first time I’d stormed out. But I’d gone further away than I usually did. And… let’s see…
I pulled into the truck stop off of Route 16, got myself a soda and a candy bar, and saw… that guy… Carmen’s ex, the one I’d met that time they were sneaking around the house… and then I’d felt a thump at the back of my head, and…
I come to as I try to move my arms to my sides. I’m sore – annoyingly sore. My left arm has pins and needles in it, and my right arm feels weird. There’s something metallic restraining me. I squirm a little bit to see, but I can’t turn around. Handcuffs. Has to be.
Then I look down and am almost amused to see my breasts beneath me. What in the hell? I begin to realize that I’m lying there, handcuffed and completely naked.
I scan the room that I’m in. There’s not much to it. There are four walls, a door, and the bed I’m strapped to. That’s it. The walls aren’t even painted; they’re the same dull grayish-white as an unused jail cell. It’s pretty pathetic. I know from experience that it’s got to be a guy’s basement. How? Well, for starters, a woman would have painted it, and second, there are no windows, indicating that we’re below ground.
“Hello?” I ask with caution. Then, when I get no response, I try again, a little bit louder, “Hello? Is anyone there?” Still getting no response, I start to freak out a little bit. “Help!” I call out in what I know is probably a futile effort but seems worth a try anyway. “Help me! I’m trapped down here! Hello? Hello?!”
No one comes to my aid. No one even seems interested in the fact that I’m there. My mind begins racing, and tears are welling in my eyes. I’m irritated with myself – this is no time to cry. But I’m sitting here, naked, alone, and afraid. I’m not sure what else I can do. I start fidgeting with the handcuffs as best I can, but that’s of no use.
That’s when I start to wonder who took me. Who would’ve done something like this? Dad has plenty of enemies, but which of them would be so bold as to kidnap me? It has to be the Blood Ravens, that motorcycle club from the west side. Dad has pissed them off a number of times that I know of, which means he’s probably done it more than a number of times. He can be a real prick that way.
So if the Blood Ravens kidnapped me, then what’s their end game? Maybe they just want to put the fear of God into my father. If they wanted me dead, I would be dead already, so I’m hoping that means I’m safe, at least for now. Whatever the case, I’m in deep shit. As pissed as I am at my dad, I’m beginning to realize that I shouldn’t have left home. That bastard’s dirty dealings have made me vulnerable.
I feel the scratchy, cheap cotton of the sheets beneath my ass, and something else occurs to me. I’m laying here naked – did they… did whoever took me… do something to me? I can’t feel around to be sure, but I sure don’t feel like I’ve been taken against my will. I feel like I would know if I’d been raped. There would be some external sign. I don’t think they’ve done anything untoward.
So, okay. I’m here, I’m naked, I’m in what’s probably the house of some guy from a motorcycle club… why here? Why not stash me at their headquarters or whatever? Because I’m sure Dad knows where their headquarters is – or, at least, somebody in his inner circle does.
I wonder if Dad even knows I’ve gone missing? I seemed ready to run away last night. Could he possibly be out looking for m
e? Would he bother? The way things ended last night, I kind of doubt it, at least not initially. But that’s the thing – there’s probably no way that he would think in his wildest dreams that the Blood Ravens have me.
Shit.
I’m about to ponder this fact a little more when the door opens. Standing there is the huge, gorgeous man I remember from last night – and from Carmen’s bedside. I try to think of his name, or his call sign, or whatever, but once again, it escapes me. So I sit there stupidly, silently, watching him enter the room, scared out of my wits that he’s going to hurt me.
He doesn’t say a word to me at first. Instead, he carries a tray with a sandwich and a can of soda with a straw to me and lays it on the bedside. He’s got the sandwich cut up into four squares, each small enough to be practically bite-size.
Finally, he asks in a husky, alpha male voice, “You hungry?”
I nod slowly before I can think about it. I am hungry. Starving, in fact. I have no idea what time it is, but I haven’t eaten since lunch – yesterday? Today? Who can tell? Since he’s brought me a sandwich, I have to presume it’s probably dinner, or maybe lunch the next day. I have no frame of reference, which scares the absolute shit out of me.
“I’m awfully sorry about this,” he says slowly as he picks up one of the pieces of the sandwich, “but I’m going to have to feed you. That’s the only way this works, see.”
I don’t say a word as he brings the first piece to my mouth. I take a bite out of it, chew, and swallow, then devour the rest of the piece. He repeats the motion with the second piece.
“Need something to drink?” he asks.
I nod again, and he puts the straw in the can up to my lips. I take a long swig. It tastes good, sugary, and it wakes me up in a way I just wasn’t before. Then he picks up the rest of the sandwich and feeds me in this infantile way again.
Weirdly, I can’t help but think how sexy it is. I don’t know what it is about him, but something in the way he’s commanding me gives me shivers in my nether regions. He’s in complete control of me, and he could take me if he wanted to. But instead, he’s gently feeding me almost like a mama bird. It would be sweet if it weren’t so terrifying. At any rate, I find being in his thrall entirely sexy.
He offers me another sip of the soda, then, when I’m finished, puts the tray down on the ground.
“Do you remember me?” he asks after a moment.
I nod slowly.
“My name is Blade. I used to go out with your sister, Carmen.”
I break my silence for the first time, but my voice comes out as a croak, so I clear my throat and try again. “I remember,” I say simply. “Why – why am I here?”
“Well, it’s not about you, if that’s what you’re wondering,” he says, almost chuckling. “Maria, your dad’s been pulling some… well, some pretty sinister shit lately. He’s been sending his thugs after my people. And we just can’t have that now, can we?”
“I don’t know,” I reply, feeling a little less abashed despite my nudity. “What did you do? Did you maybe… I don’t know… deserve it?”
“Did I deserve to get stabbed by one of your father’s goons?” There’s barely contained fury in his voice. “No, Maria, I did not deserve that. I did not deserve this.” He pulls up his shirt to reveal a barely healing scar with a couple of clearly improvised stitches in it. “Your old man ordered a hit on me after… a business meeting.”
I raise an eyebrow. “A business meeting?”
“That’s what we’re calling it,” he snaps. “Anyway, it had nothing to do with Juan Espinoza and his crew. I had nothing against him, except that… well, he’s a bit of a prick, isn’t he?”
I don’t say anything, but a part of me silently agrees. “You know,” I say, a bit of a tease to my voice, “it’s not exactly easy having this conversation in the nude. I don’t suppose you might bring me my clothes back, would you?”
To my surprise and shock, he shakes his head, and he seems almost sad about it. “I’m afraid not. Prisoners are kept naked. Those are the rules, and we’re sticking by the rules.”
“So I’m your… your prisoner?”
“For the time being, yes.”
I become suddenly fearful and painfully aware of my nakedness. Where just a moment ago I was beginning to feel confident, now I’m starting to feel like a little girl. “Are you… are you going to… to…”
“To what, girl?” he demands. “Spit it out, whatever you’re going to say.”
“Are you going to… rape me?” Tears sting the sides of my eyes.
“What?!” he guffaws, as if this is the funniest thing in the world. “Woman, you listen to me, and you listen good. If I wanted some from you or anyone else, I would get it, and you would give it. Willingly. I don’t go in for this shit about raping women. I’ve never been able to stand it, and I wouldn’t stand for it. I don’t roll that way.”
“So what you’re saying is… I’m safe,” I say, relieved.
“Did I say that?” he snaps again, this time with more menace. “No, Maria, no. You are not safe. You are in deep, deep shit. Well, your father is in deep, deep shit, and you are by association. See, I don’t want to hurt you, but I can’t say the same for my club. I’m sure ultimately they don’t give a good God damn if you live or die, so long as Juan Espinoza is strutting around like a goddamn peacock, like he owns the whole fucking town.
“What I can tell you is that, at least for right now, you are far, far more valuable to us alive than dead. Not that it can’t change – it can, in an instant, and it’ll change a lot faster if you’re not compliant with us.”
“But I’m being compliant!” I shudder. “I – I can tell you stuff. I can… I can do things. I know stuff.”
“Lady.” He laughs again. “If there were something you had that I wanted, I’d have it already, like I told you.”
“I didn’t mean sex,” I say, a little more indignantly than I meant to.
“Neither did I,” he snarls. “Listen, I—”
“Do you want money?” I ask, now beginning to get even more nervous. “I got money – lots of it. Or, my dad does, anyway. We’d pay you. I’m sure he—”
“We don’t want money, girl. I—”
“W-what about in-information?” I stutter. “I-I-I know stuff. Lots of st-stuff. I-I-I could tell you—”
Suddenly, he grasps my face in his right hand. It doesn’t hurt, but it does get me to shut my mouth.
“Would you shut. The fuck. Up,” he commands me. “Now listen to me. I don’t want information from you. I could never trust another Espinoza anyway. Not after the bullshit your sister pulled on me.”
“What did she—”
“SHUT THE FUCK UP, BITCH!” he yells.
He swings and runs his fist smack into the wall out of anger. I’m terrified, but kind of impressed when I see that his hand went straight through the drywall. He’s got one hell of a punch. I would hate to be the guy on the receiving end of it.
“Now, listen to me, would you?” It’s not a question. “I don’t want to hurt you. My role in this is just to babysit your sorry ass until my boss’ plan comes through. So I’m going to do that. But God dammit you’re not making this easy. So I’m going to say this once. Speak when spoken to. Don’t ask questions. Don’t fuck with me, and we’ll get along fine. But if you cross me, even once, I’m not going to hesitate to fuck you up. Do you understand me?”
Annoyingly, at least to me, I start to cry. I’ve never had someone speak to me like this before. I’m terrified, but I’m also pathetic. I know now that no one is coming for me, no one is going to save me from this brute of a man. He could be the one who ends up killing me, and no one would be the wiser. In fact, he may well be – why else would he not have feared showing me his face? Surely he knows Dad will kill him if given the chance. So why take that risk if he doesn’t already know what the outcome is going to be?
“Good,” he says, almost seeming to gloat over my tears. “That’s mor
e like it. That’s what I like to see – a nice, compliant girl. A woman who knows her place. That’s honest to God the best thing that I could see right now.”
I want to say, “Fuck you.” I want to tell him to go fuck himself. I want to tell him my father is going to rain down the fury of heaven against him and smite the fuck out of him and all his motorcycle-riding, drug-hustling buddies. I want to tell him that as soon as ever I get the chance, as soon as my father is done with him, I’m going to tap dance on his grave in victory.
But I can’t do any of that. I’m so lost, so alone. And so, all I can do is look up into the dreamy brown pools of his eyes and say, “Please, Blade, don’t hurt me.”
“Now, now,” he says, almost pleasantly. “Come on now. I have no intention of hurting you, like I said. Honest to God. All I want is for you to listen to me. If you don’t, you’ll be in for a world of hurt, but if you do, nothing bad is going to happen to you. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
