Taken: A Romance Novella

by J.C. Valentine

  Well, she wasn’t about to start with his!

  A door creaked open, and Elise felt the air change as they stepped into another room, the musty smell of dirt and dust thicker than in the rest of the place. Spinning her around, Manhandler gave her a gentle push, and Elise plunked down onto the edge of the bed, its springs screaming in protest as she bounced and fought against rolling backward into the center of the mattress.

  “This thing must be ancient,” she commented without thought.

  “I’d say seventies, at least.”

  “Seventy years?” Elise screeched in disbelief. She almost leaped clear off again, considering what manner of filth it must harbor.

  “Seventies as in what decade it’s from,” Manhandler clarified.

  “That’s not much better.”

  “Suck it up, buttercup.”

  And so she would. Elise glared behind her blindfold at him, hoping he could at least feel her indignation and resentment. Except she hardly felt it herself, so he probably couldn’t either. Drat. She was a piss poor hostage. Where was her fire? Her raging sense of self-preservation? That snappy attitude all the fictional heroines in her plethora of romance novels had?

  Left all that back in Neverland, she thought to herself. A self-deprecating smile began to form. Elise had never been much of a fighter. Just a sad and lonely girl living in a lonely world. Blah, blah, blah. Guess I’ll go eat worms.

  “Whatever you’re planning, don’t,” Manhandler said in a calm manner that belied the threat inherent in his statement.

  Elise wiped the smile off her face instantly. “I’m not planning anything.”

  “Right.” He didn’t sound convinced. “Let’s keep it that way, shall we?” His hand smacked her thigh, startling her. “Lie down. Get some sleep.”

  Elise eased herself down onto her side, grimacing as she thought of all the critters that were probably living among the blankets and within the mattress. God, was the pillow even safe to touch? “Where will you be?”

  She heard Manhandler move around to the opposite side of the bed, and when he sat down, her body rolled to meet him in the middle. “Right here, buttercup.”

  Elise gasped, scrambling for the edge of the bed—as far from him as possible without defying his orders.

  “What,” he said with a laugh. “Did you really think I was going to leave you alone in here, so you could get up to mischief? Not hardly.”

  That wasn’t exactly what she’d been thinking, but Elise would have done some snooping around, maybe searched for an exit. Not that she expected either man to leave her in any position to get them into trouble. They seemed to be one step ahead at every turn. Turns that were few and far between.

  Elise froze in place as he settled in behind her. Releasing a little groan of approval, he shocked her to hell and back when he grabbed her around the middle and hauled her back up against his chest. Breath puffing against the back of her neck, Manhandler said in a sleepy voice, “This is for your protection as much as it is mine. Don’t get any ideas, just sleep, and we’ll get along just fine. Deal?”

  What could she possibly say? No deal? He had her right where he wanted her, leaving Elise no choice but to play the hand she was being dealt. Unable to make her voice work, Elise simply jerked her head in affirmation.

  “Glad you agree, buttercup.” Within a matter of seconds, he was out cold, his arm a vice holding her in place. And Elise? Well, she wasn’t going to sleep anytime soon.

  Chapter Five

  What was that she’d said about not having encountered a penis is ages? Well, Elise was getting an up close and personal introduction with Manhandler’s member, and it was rock hard and ready to please, judging by the way it was prodding persistently between her legs as if demanding entry.

  And Elise was one sick pup, because, after managing to fall asleep then waking up to the feel of it wedged between her thighs, coupled with the hardness and warmth of her captor firmly wrapped around her, she had become wetter than the Niagara Falls.

  This was what happened when you went without proper male attention for too long. Clearly, her body was looking for love in all the wrong places. Holy crap! She needed to get her head screwed on straight. Nothing about her sudden and growing desire was okay. Not a damn thing.

  She wasn’t sure how long she laid there, feeling the gentle throb of his cock against her buttocks, his soft breath tickling her ear, sweating from the immense heat of his body against hers—he was like an inferno!—and keeping track of the thump of his heart pounding against her back. Thanks to her lack of sight, Elise only knew sensations, and they were more than enough to send her thoughts spiraling down a rabbit hole she had no business exploring.

  So when the door slammed open and Driver burst in, Elise was both terrified and relieved.

  “Rise and shine!” Driver shouted at the same time Manhandler yanked Elise beneath him, covering her body with his, and roared, “What the fuck! I could have shot you, you motherfucker!”

  “You’re not that trigger happy,” Driver said confidently.

  Elise heard the distinct metallic click of what she assumed to be the hammer being reset—on a gun!—beside her ear.

  “You’re damn lucky for that,” Manhandler snarled. “You dumb fuck.”

  “Got your heart pumping. You’ve been needing to get more cardio in anyway. Get rid of those love handles.”

  Manhandler growled his irritation. “Get out before I put a bullet in your ass.”

  “Need a few minutes alone with the missus?”

  It was then Elise became highly aware of exactly where Manhandler was positioned. Or more specifically, how. And judging by how Manhandler stiffened, his whole body going rock steady, she knew he’d realized it too.

  “It’s not what it looks like.”

  “Hey, I’m not saying anything. You wanna shit where you eat? Fine by me. Just don’t let it go to your head. Well, the one that counts anyway. We might have to shoot her later.” With that little gem of advice, Driver closed the door, whistling a cheery little tune as he went.

  Elise, though highly disturbed, was also keenly aware of the man on top of her. His body was everywhere, so much wider and heavier than her own…and it felt amazing. Even more amazing was the hard ridge of his cock pressed right up tight against her cleft, which wouldn’t have been an issue at all had she not inadvertently opened her legs when he’d rolled on top of her, creating the perfect cradle for his hips to rest in.

  And without her sight, all she could do was lie there and focus on what was going on below the waist.

  “Well, this is an interesting turn of events,” Manhandler said with a casual flair that Elise found admirable, considering she was beginning to experience heart palpitations.

  “Why are you on top of me?” she demanded to know, her tone fraught with irritation.

  “Don’t get so defensive, buttercup. I’m not the one who spread his legs like butter.”

  She gasped, affronted. “You’re the one who climbed on top of me!”

  “To protect you!”

  “From your egotistical asshat friend!”

  “I was half asleep. I didn’t know who the hell it was,” he hissed back. Then, with a grunt, he shoved away from her. The bedsprings squawked loudly as he sprang to his feet. “You act as if I stripped you down to your panties and tried to get inside you.”

  God, just those words were enough to make Elise shiver. And not in a bad way. Not at all.

  Apparently, her silence was enough to give him pause. “Wait…is that what you’re pissed about?”

  “What?” she asked through clenched teeth. She already knew where this was going, because she was thinking it too.

  “That’s it, isn’t it?” There was a smugness to his tone that she didn’t appreciate one bit. He came closer again, and she could feel him looming over her. “You liked me on top of you.”

  “No, I didn’t.” Rolling away from the sound of his voice, Elise’s feet found the floor and she popp
ed up, wanting desperately to run away but not knowing where to go without removing the blindfold, which could very well be a death sentence.

  Manhandler came up behind her, his smug attitude full-watt. “Yeah, you did. You wanted the D. Just admit it.” She felt his heat a second before she felt his lips beside her ear. In a low, gruff voice laced with desire, he said, “If you wanted it, all you had to do was ask, buttercup.”

  Elise’s stomach clenched and her nipples hardened to painful points. He was right, she did want him. She wanted all of him, and she couldn’t explain why, but she’d be damned if she admitted it out loud. It was one thing to think it, and another thing entirely to voice it. Voicing it made it real. Right now, all it was, was a fantasy. One that would remain forever unfulfilled.

  She hoped.

  Elise stepped away, putting distance between them. “The only thing I want, is for you to let me go.”

  “Behave yourself, and maybe you’ll get your wish.”

  “Maybe?”

  “Did I stutter?”

  Lips thinning, Elise wrapped her arms around herself. “You’re an asshole.”

  “Get used to it.”

  Oh, she would. She’d remind herself every second of every minute if it meant avoiding making her life suck any worse than it already did. The last thing she needed was to get herself emotionally attached to a criminal on the run from the law.

  “You know you can’t keep me here forever. People will notice I’m missing.”

  “Yeah, what people?”

  Elise’s mouth opened but no words came out. She should have expected the question, since it was an obvious follow-up, but she hadn’t, and she didn’t have a ready answer. The problem was, she was bluffing. There was no one in the world to miss her—not a friend or boyfriend or even family. She was alone in the world. Well, except for Mr. Nuttingham, her squirrel friend who frequented her front stoop morning, afternoon, and night for the assorted pile of nuts she left out for him. Over the last couple months, however, she’d noticed him putting on a bit of weight, which led her to believe hers wasn’t the only stoop he’d been frequenting. So, basically, her life was so pathetic that she didn’t even have the loyalty of a rodent.

  Suddenly feeling drained, Elise reached out and felt around for the bed. Finding it, she slumped down on the edge and released a long-suffering sigh.

  “You’re not going to cry now, are you?” Manhandler asked, sounding just a touch concerned, but whether that was for her benefit or his, she didn’t know.

  Snorting, Elise shook her head. “No. I don’t cry.” Especially in front of others. Especially if they were the cause of it. Why give them the satisfaction?

  “Good.”

  “Grand.”

  “Do you always have to get the last word in?”

  “Yes,” she said, for the sake of being argumentative.

  He chuckled. “Reminds me of someone else I know.”

  By that, she assumed he meant his partner. “You don’t know me.”

  “No, I don’t. But I’ll learn.”

  Did that mean he meant to keep her there as a prisoner for a while? Elise wanted to shout, rail at him and demand he release her immediately, but she didn’t. If he intended to get to know her, then that meant she still had some time. Killing her wasn’t on the top of the list, and she’d learned enough from her true crime show addiction that making an abductor get to know you meant you could possibly get him to sympathize with you. It was a form of manipulation, to get them to view their victim as a human being instead of a disposable piece of meat.

  Elise felt a rush of renewed hope course through her.

  “Is that before or after you put a bullet between my eyes and dump me in a shallow grave?” she asked.

  “Wow, you’re a morbid one. Why the preoccupation with death? Do you want me to kill you? Are you suicidal but too chicken shit to pull the trigger yourself?”

  What. A. Jerk. “If I was, would you do it?” she retorted.

  “Nope. I don’t do other people’s dirty work for them. You want to check out early, do it yourself.”

  Good thing she wasn’t looking for an early out, because with an attitude like his, she might have done it. Which made her realize he was just as defensive and combative as she was. He wasn’t an easy target. He had a sharp mind, and she was going to have a hard time getting past his defenses—she was certain of it.

  “Fine, give me your gun and I’ll take care of it then.”

  There was a brief moment of silence, and then Manhandler said, “Is there stupid written on my forehead?”

  “I’m not sure. Let me take off my blindfold and check.”

  “Touch it and you’re going to be the proud owner of a new hole. Regrettably, of course.”

  “Of course. Thanks for the warning… I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”

  Elise could hear the faint smile in his voice when he said, “I’m going to have to keep a closer eye on you.”

  Yeah, he would. Apparently, Elise could give as good as she got. The more Manhandler pushed against her defenses, the more she pushed against his. There was a power struggle going on between them…and she liked it.

  “So, are you going to sit here and guard me forever, or can I take a shower and get something to eat?” Elise waited patiently while Manhandler worked to get over his shock and come up with an answer. Secure in the knowledge that he wasn’t going to outright kill her, despite his claim to do so—how would he get to know her if she was dead?—Elise all but smiled. She had some wiggle room that helped alleviate the worst of her fears. For the moment, anyway.

  “You have ten minutes. Try anything and I’ll—”

  “Give me a new hole. I heard you the first time,” Elise droned.

  Grabbing her by the arm, Manhandler manhandled her out of the room muttering, “Have to keep an extra close eye on you…”

  Chapter Six

  A good shower has the power to wake a person up and get them ready for the day ahead. A great shower makes a person feel transformed. Elise was enjoying the latter, because there was nothing quite like a hot and refreshing shower after far too many hours spent in the same clothes and cooped up in a dank cabin on an ages old mattress filled with God only knew what kind of vermin.

  Elise only wished she had fresh clothing to dress in when she was finished. The idea of putting on the same underwear was appalling, but she didn’t have much choice in the matter, unless she wanted to go commando—which she didn’t. Especially considering her current situation.

  Matters were only made worse when Manhandler, King of the Assholes, informed her that he would not be leaving her alone to perform her business. In fact, after a loud shouting match and many threats of bodily harm issued from both of them, she’d been all but shoved into the shower stall. He’d then told her she had five seconds to strip or he’d do it himself. Then he’d slammed the sliding glass door so hard, she’d thought it would shatter.

  Needless to say, she’d gotten down to her birthday suit—against her better judgment—and gotten down to the business of showering.

  And it was the most uncomfortable shower in the history of mankind.

  A wide band cutting through the center of the glass door was frosted, creating a modicum of privacy, but there was a considerable area left clear at the top and bottom, allowing a clear visual of the person inside.

  All Manhandler had to do was look up and they’d be staring at one another. A fact made even more uncomfortable now that he was openly using the facilities.

  Elise had never occupied a bathroom at the same time as a man in her life, so showering while he relieved himself, in plain view of one another, was a crash course of sorts.

  She was trying her best not to look, figuring if he was offering her a shred of respect she should return the gesture, but it was a huge test of her resolve. It probably said a lot about her moral compass, too, since she kept stealing peeks from the corner of her eye.

  Unfortunately, she couldn�
�t see much. Not from that angle. And of course, there was the open threat that she’d better “keep her eyes forward or else.” So even though she was relieved of her blindfold for the moment, she had been expressly forbidden to look at him.

  But she had looked—kind of—so she had a vague impression of what he looked like. He was tall, solidly built, both of which she had already perceived from their prior interactions. But the dark shadow around his head told her he had brown or black hair, cut short, but not buzzed—there was a bit of length to it. Likely enough to run a person’s fingers through and grip tight. He stood like a sentinel, stock still, and when coupled with his generally abrasive demeanor, she wondered if maybe he’d been military at one time. It would explain his commanding presence and domineering attitude. That said, she also had the impression that it wasn’t all there was to him. She’d glimpsed a softer side, multiple times. A cold-blooded murderer wouldn’t let a person take a shower or be concerned with them being fed or protect them in the midst of perceived danger.

  In fact, Elise was growing even more confident by the second that the only real danger she was in came directly from the man located at the front of the cabin—the loose trigger. She even wondered if all the trouble they were caught up in—whatever it was—was directly the fault of Manhandler’s partner and he just somehow got caught up in the whirlwind. A case of wrong place, wrong time. Kind of like her.

  She chanced another look from the corner of her eye, catching movement as he flushed the toilet and put the lid down. His mom must have taught him that, she mused, and she might have smiled if, just then, the water’s temperature hadn’t gone from warm and steamy to Holy Hades in a literal hot second.

  “Oh my God!” Elise screamed, leaping backward to escape the scalding temperature. Her feet slipped on the slick basin, and she threw her arms out, grabbing for anything she made contact with.

  Shampoo and conditioner bottles, a bar of soap, and a disposable razor clamored from their shallow shelf, landing on her toes, but for all the pain that caused, she was in for a bigger world of hurt as she went down hard…