by Amy Starling
“Don't you touch them! I swear if you do...”
“Too late,” I said. “I got Ceci here with me. She's tied up in the basement, crying for help right now.”
It was pretty cruel, but hey, desperate times.
“No you don't. You can't have her,” he protested. “I don't believe you.”
Dad laughed. “Oh, you hear that, son? I think our friend here needs a bit of convincing. Something to show him just how serious we are. Perhaps a video of the princess would suffice. Maybe show Mr. Trenton just what can happen to her if he doesn't cooperate.”
Roger sobbed. “No, please...”
“Don't hurt her too bad, though, okay? We gotta save some of her left for later.”
His sobs turned into shrill wailing and pleading for us to stop. Typically, people like him disgusted me. But after talking with Ceci last night, I felt kind of bad for him.
“Here's what you're gonna do,” I told him. “Forget about running away to Mexico. It won't work. We'll find you wherever you are.”
“Yeah. There are only two ways out of your debt, and one of 'em involves you in a coffin.”
“Go home, Roger. Go back to your wife.”
“I... I can't. Can't face her after this,” he squeaked. “I did something awful. I'm horrible. Don't deserve her.”
“Be that as it may, this is what you must do,” I said firmly. “Other people in Ceci's life are going to realize she's gone. You are to tell no one about any of this – including the police – or I will kill her.”
He bawled. “What am I supposed to do, then?”
“Tell her school, her friends, whoever asks that she's visiting a sick relative in another country. Phone service is spotty there, so they'll be unable to contact her until she returns.”
“Now as for my money,” dad continued. “I want it in thirty days. If I don't have that cash in hand by next month, your daughter ain't coming home.”
“Thirty days! I can't possibly come up with that much by then. What person could? I'm just a research scientist.”
“You better start thinking about it. Maybe consider selling a kidney, eh? I got some associates in China that would pay good money for one.”
As Roger wailed in my ear, my annoyance with him turned to pity. It probably was gonna be impossible for him to raise that much money in such short time. And if he didn't, that meant dad would demand his daughter's head.
Taking a life was easy to me, but Ceci...
Roger hung up, leaving only dad and me on the line. “That went relatively well,” he muttered. “Okay, son. Get that video taken and send it to his phone. He won't doubt we have his daughter then.”
“What do you expect me to do?”
“I dunno. Something... painful. You're the hitman, figure it out. Just don't beat her too badly – yet.”
Ceci was stirring in the basement. She'd be up here pounding on the door any moment now.
“You really want me to keep the girl locked up for a month? That's quite a burden. I'll have to monitor her and feed her regular meals, for one thing.”
“Just toss her a piece of bread and some tap water now and again. She ain't gonna die of starvation.” He puffed his cigar and hacked loudly in my ear. “And if you got business out of town, just chain her up and lock the place down tight.”
Somehow, I figured Miss Houdini would find a way to escape even that.
Her footsteps plodded slowly up the wooden stairs. I hung up the phone and unlocked the basement door before she could bang on it.
She stood there on the other side, her eyes half shut, her silky blonde hair sticking out in various directions. She'd slept in her clothes for obvious reasons, and her shirt hung partially open, revealing just a tantalizing hint of the cusp of her pale breast.
Mm, damn it! How long was I gonna have to wait for a piece of her? This woman drove me wild without even trying.
“What are you staring at?” She rubbed her eyes, then opened them. “And what's going on? Have you talked to my dad yet?”
“Yeah,” I said, not mentioning the part how he blubbered like an infant. “My guys found him in Arizona.”
“So he was going to Mexico.”
“Seemed that way. Whether he was merely trying to escape our reach or something more, I can't say.”
She chewed her lip and stared at the floor. If she was upset about things now, she sure as hell wouldn't be happy once I broke this news to her.
“C'mon. I got a pot of fresh, hot coffee waiting. Wasn't sure how you liked it.”
“Black.” She eyed me warily as I poured her a steaming mug. “You're being awfully kind to me for a kidnapper.”
“I already told you, this isn't my idea of a good time either. I just do what I have to for the family.”
She sipped the scorching beverage and winced. “No, you do whatever your father tells you without question.”
My hands balled into fists. “Who do you think you are, talking to me like that? I'm doing you a favor by watching out for your ass.”
“If you call what happened last night 'watching out for,' then you're doing an excellent job.”
We sat across from each other at the kitchen table. Great, now she was glaring at me like I'd kicked her puppy.
This was why I avoided relationships. I wasn't the kind of man who took shit from anybody – especially not a nagging woman.
Unfortunately for me, Ceci was so stunning that I'd probably take whatever crap she dished out with a smile.
“Let's just talk about my dad, please.”
“Well, he's on his way back home to your mother. Don't imagine she'll be pleased to see him, but we sent him back to do damage control about your sudden disappearance.”
“Wow. How'd you get him to turn around?”
Oh, it was nothing. Just told him I was going to kill you if he didn't.
“I can be very persuasive. He's running on borrowed time, though. Dad gave him thirty days to get the money together.”
She started to choke on her coffee. “But that's never going to happen! And... And what about me?”
I avoided her furious stare. When she looked at me that way, it felt like she was seeing right through me, and I didn't like it one iota.
“You'll be staying here until his time is up.”
She buried her head in her arms and cried loud, mournful sobs that made me squirm with discomfort. Crying women never bothered me much before. With her, though? The very sound of it made my heart feel as if it might break.
“I can't stay here! I'll miss my classes. I'll fail school.” She looked up at me, her eyes bloodshot. “All I ever wanted in life was to be a doctor. Are you seriously going to take that from me?”
“You're not going to fail anything.” I tried to speak slowly and calmly for her sake. “And I can't let you go. If I do, my dad will likely kill you or worse. Then, because I failed the family, I would be next in line on his rampage.”
She blew her nose on a napkin. “Someone will miss me. They know I'm always on campus. Emily will realize something's up, and then the cops will come, and your whole plan is done for.”
“We've already taken care of that. Nobody is coming for you, so I suggest you get comfortable here.”
She stared at some painting on the wall, not blinking, in a daze. Unsure what more to say, I got up to get us some breakfast. This was the fifth time her stomach had rumbled since she came out of that basement.
“Uh, you want eggs again, or cereal? I've got Frosted Flakes and Cheerios.”
She didn't answer, so I poured her a bowl of Cheerios and pushed it in front of her. She looked at the bowl, then at me, and scowled.
“You think I'm hungry after what you just said?”
“You can tell me you don't want food all you want, but your growling belly says otherwise.” I put the spoon in her hand. “Now, eat. I'm not quite done with the news yet.”
Reluctantly, she took a small bite, like she thought I'd laced the milk with rat poison. Then a
bigger bite, and another. She cried softly the whole time, but at least she was getting some food in her.
“So,” she mumbled with her mouth full. “What's the rest of this news?”
“Well, uh, you know how terrorists take videos of their hostages, right? So people know how high the stakes are. They line them up and point guns at their heads and whatnot.”
“Did you just compare yourself to a terrorist?”
“No, you're missing the point. My dad needs me to take this video because it seems your father doesn't believe I have you. Until he sees that we do, he won't take it seriously.”
“Damn it, dad.” She pounded her fist on the table. “Thanks for nothing.”
“This video's gotta be, um, convincing.” I backed away from her, preparing to be punched. “I'm supposed to rough you up a bit for the camera.”
She got out of her chair and pressed herself up against the wall like a cornered, wounded animal.
“What are you going to do to me?”
“Believe me, I don't want to hurt you. But if we don't keep up the charade, things could end badly for us both.”
She nodded as she tried to understand. I gathered my courage, took a chance that she wouldn't stab me with the end of her spoon, and gently touched her arm. Instantly, goosebumps flecked her flesh, and she looked up at me with wide, confused eyes.
“Ceci, I thought there was something magical about you when we met, and I still believe there is now. I promise you, I'm doing whatever I can to get you through this safe. Sometimes, that might mean you need to follow my orders or do something you really don't wanna do.”
Her lip trembled. “I... I just don't know what...”
I was one-hundred percent shocked when she threw herself against my chest and started to cry. I couldn't comprehend it; all I knew was I didn't want her to move.
Emotion surged through me, and I put my arms around her in a tight hug. I wanted to protect her, to save her from this mess, so badly it made my chest ache.
I was a mobster, a hitman, a killer. Used to think that was my life; that was all I'd ever be.
But with her in my arms, I began to think different.
Chapter 9 - Ceci
“So, what do you like to do?” Alec asked, a notebook and pen in his hands. “When you're not busting your butt at med school or the hospital, I mean.”
I gaped at him from my spot on the couch. “Are you seriously hitting on me again? Thought I told you I'm not –”
An extra-loud commercial for some car dealership came on the TV. Alec reached across my lap for the remote and muted it, his hand grazing my thigh. I got the feeling it wasn't much of an accident.
Our eyes met. The coldness I'd seen in them last night was gone, replaced with... What? Something new that I couldn't figure out, and it made me feel weird.
“I'm not hitting on you,” he said softly. “I'm asking because you'll be spending a lot of time in here. Thought I'd bring you some things to keep you occupied.”
My heart skipped a couple of beats. Why would he do that for me?
“You're being awfully thoughtful for a mobster.”
“Maybe I'm trying to show you I'm not the asshole you thought.”
“Oh, I know you're an asshole. You proved that to me several times over.” His stare was too intense, so I pretended to be very interested in the car commercial. “If you think suddenly treating me nice will make up for what happened...”
He frowned. “So everything I do's got to have some ulterior motive? Well, whatever. If you don't want to talk to me, then you can just sit here watching the same five TV channels for the next thirty days.”
I didn't plan to actually be trapped here for that long, though I didn't tell him that. Still, who knew when a chance for escape would present itself?
I'd already looked around a good portion of the bottom floor, and found nothing much to do here. There was a shelf full of old books, mostly crappy self-help stuff from the nineties mixed with terrible romance novels and boring fashion magazines. That, plus the TV, was the only source of distraction I had found.
Alec still waited for an answer. I wasn't sure what to tell him.
“What do I like to do,” I repeated. “It's been so long since I had any real free time, it's kind of hard to remember.”
He plopped on the couch next to me. “What about before you went to school? Or maybe there's something you wanted to try, but never got around to it. I know what that's like.”
“I liked to write once. Stories, I mean. But I sort of grew out of that after high school.” I tried hard to think back. “I used to like baking and cooking. Can't do much of that anymore with my schedule, so I kind of live off fast food and frozen dinners.”
His brow furrowed as he wrote these things down. “That's awful. You live with your folks, right? Doesn't your mother cook dinner?”
“Her idea of cooking is Hamburger Helper or heating canned soup on the stove. She certainly could cook – she has plenty of time – but she won't.” It was so pathetic, it made me laugh. “Dad gets so upset with her. It's like she does everything in her power to spite him.”
Alec appeared to be genuinely concerned. “Food's a huge deal in my family. When mom was alive, she had a feast on the table for us every night.”
I wondered what had happened to his mother. But he didn't volunteer the story, so I figured I shouldn't ask.
“So, anything else?” He handed me his notebook. “If there's anything you want, just name it. I'll see what I can do.”
“What will you be doing while I'm in here?” I watched for his reaction while I jotted down some notes. “I mean, they can't expect you to babysit me constantly. Surely you have other things to do.”
“If you're plotting some grand escape, don't bother. I think you'll find that getting out won't be as easy as the last time.”
Sounded like a challenge to me. Alec could be as sweet as he liked, but I would not be cooped up in here like a caged bird for very much longer.
When I finished writing, he had this odd look on his face.
“We still have to make that video,” he said, his expression blank and his voice flat.
I shivered. He'd have to rough me up for it, he'd said – and I did not like the sound of that.
“Any ideas? Can't you just film yourself pointing a gun at me? Uh, unloaded, preferably.”
He shook his head. “The more intense it is, the more danger it seems you're in, the quicker your father will act to repay that money. That's what my dad figures, anyway. If he thinks I'm not giving one-hundred and ten percent, he might take matters into his own hands.”
I scooted away from him to the opposite side of the couch. Alec was very good at finding ways to scare me shitless.
“Have you ever done anything like this before?” I almost wished I hadn't asked him. “Tortured people, I mean.”
He shrugged. “Sometimes people don't wanna talk. You could say I've gotten pretty good at getting them to spill the beans.”
I shuddered to think what he'd done to them. A man like him, who could kill and hurt people without a care... How could I ever trust him? One wrong move, and I may well be next on his list.
“So what are you going to do to me?”
He thought for a moment. “How good are you at holding your breath?”
“I used to swim a lot. Went diving, too. But as you can imagine, it's been quite a while.”
“Come with me. I have a plan.”
I had a feeling I was not going to like this plan, but followed him anyway. In the basement, he unzipped a bag and pulled out a video camera, plus tripod. He set these up, went back to the kitchen, then returned with a chair.
“Sit,” he ordered me.
I did so. Then he pulled my arms behind the chair and gently tied my wrists with rope. This time, unlike the last, he seemed to work carefully so as not to hurt me.
His fingers brushed my tender wrist, sending a very unexpected shiver of pleasure up my spine. I easil
y remembered those fingers inside me, and how he made me come with barely any effort at all...
I shifted uncomfortably as he filled a bucket with water at the sink. What was wrong with me? Did I actually sort of enjoy being tied up, made helpless, left only at his mercy?
He didn't seem to notice. That weird coldness had returned to him, as if he'd just flipped a switch and turned the human side of him off.
He set the full bucket on the table beside me, then took the gun from its holster.
“I really don't like you waving that thing around,” I told him.
“If it makes you feel better...” He slid out the bullets, unloading it. “At least it'll look good on camera.”
I relaxed knowing I wasn't gonna get shot in the head, but eyed the bucket with suspicion.
“Have you figured it out yet?”
“You're going to pretend to drown me. I've heard about this form of torture on TV. Doesn't look very pleasant.”
He fiddled with the camera buttons. “That's the point. It'll look as if I'm putting your life at risk, but I won't be. You hold your breath as long as you can, then just give me a sign when you can't anymore. I'll let you up to breathe then.”
“What kind of sign?”
“I dunno. A little kick or something.”
I laughed. “Oh, I'm definitely going to kick you for real once this is over.”
“And I would not blame you in the least.”
The light on the camera flashed red. I stared at it, getting more and more nervous with each blink.
“What if you screw up and drown me for real?”
He left the camera and sat on his knees before me. This was the first time, I realized, that I'd seen him without that jacket on – and he was far sexier than any criminal had the right to be.
“I won't screw up. Promise. You have to trust me, okay?”
“Trust the man who kidnapped me, right.”
Except I wanted to trust him so badly. He was a mobster, a horrible person, yet it slowly dawned on me that nobody else could protect me like he could.
Until he decided I wasn't worth the trouble and got rid of me, anyhow.
