Explicit Instruction

by Scarlett Finn

  Solid didn’t begin to describe this man. Every part of him was hard muscle, but he wasn’t bulky. His huge hand curled all the way around her upper arm, and he tugged her body away from his but he kept a hold of her with a vice grip.

  The underwear that had been torn by the other man slid downwards and Flick grabbed for it, but she didn’t get far because again his hand pulled her up – he obviously thought she was about to pass out.

  ‘Am I gonna have to carry you?’

  ‘No, my... my underwear, your friend tore it and...’ Flick didn’t want to fall over and smash her face somewhere. If she passed out these men would have free rein.

  ‘Get it,’ Rushe demanded and tossed her back to the bed again.

  Hooking it off her feet, Flick realised that she’d lost her shoes somewhere, but she didn’t care about that. As if he could see in the dark, Rushe snatched the thong from her then took hold of her again to wrench her back to her feet.

  It took him two strides to get to the door. But it took her four times that many, and still he didn’t slow down. Ripping the door from the frame, he marched out. He was angry, she could tell it just from the way he moved, and still she hadn’t seen his face.

  But in the gloom of the bar she got a better look at his frame at least. Being small she was used to people, men especially, being taller but he was a clear foot taller, if not more. He had wide shoulders and narrow hips, long strong legs wrapped in faded Levi’s.

  ‘You got our toy?’ the man Rushe had identified as Skeeve asked practically buzzing with excitement.

  There were fewer men here now, only five left including Rushe. Shiv was holding open the door she’d used to enter. One door; how could opening one door change your whole life?

  ‘Glen’s first,’ Shiv said. ‘Then I’m up.’

  Rushe said nothing; he dragged her out onto the wet street, and any whisper of freedom disappeared when she was thrown headfirst into the back of a truck that idled by the kerb. Still on her face, Rushe got in behind her and shunted her against the far door. The cold glass of the window came up harshly on her cheek.

  ‘Put your seatbelt on,’ he grumbled at her.

  Rushe didn’t look at her when he said it, but his diligence surprised her, and she did as told. Three others piled in the front and they were moving. The speed would have concerned her if she wasn’t desperately in need of a cop to stop them. But soon they were out of the street, and the town, and they were on the interstate.

  ‘If you’re not having your go, I’m going now,’ Skeeve said from Rushe’s other side.

  ‘You’ll keep it in your pants,’ Rushe said. ‘I ain’t watching that.’

  The three up front laughed. ‘Yeah! You’ll only embarrass yourself,’ Shiv said.

  Panic gripped Flick again when she realised how far they were going. This wasn’t a quick trip round the corner. They were travelling somewhere. The further they went, the greater her urge to jump out became; except they were on the interstate and had to be hovering around a ninety, so she couldn’t leap from the car and hope to survive.

  The reality of her situation clawed at her because, unlike she’d tried to claim, her family wouldn’t miss her. She hadn’t seen any of them for almost a year. None of them kept in touch. She didn’t have a boyfriend. Her date tonight was a first date, and he’d likely just think she stood him up. Hayden and she had met in a coffee shop, so he wouldn’t notice she was missing from work.

  And work, Tamara couldn’t stand her, and Geoffrey had been prickly since she’d refused to go on a date with him. Plus, this was a long weekend, and being Friday night now she wasn’t due back into work until Wednesday. They’d let her miss a few days without thinking anything other than she was being unreliable. Then the weekend would come, so it would be more than a week before anyone thought about reporting her missing.

  ‘You’re gonna be right at home little girl,’ Skeeve drawled. ‘Right at home.’

  Sitting in the back of this truck, Flick stared blindly at her knees. Rushe took up most of the space, but she was glad that he sat next to Skeeve instead of her.

  When she did glance up Shiv was peering over his shoulder at her. Skeeve was creepy and eager but Shiv was evil. With that leering smile and those narrow eyes she could believe he’d killed a woman for no reason other than his own entertainment. Killing someone in the way Rushe had described was not out of necessity. The man at Shiv’s side stole glances too but he seemed younger, jumpier, a bit twitchy, and nervous.

  ‘I say the girl’s gotta earn her keep,’ Skeeve said. He shifted his hips forward and began to fumble with his belt.

  ‘Hey, yeah!’ Shiv said from the front. ‘Give her something to eat! A taste of what’s to come.’

  All of the men guffawed. Her fingernails bit into her thighs, and Flick’s body was so tightly coiled she wanted to scream and self-combust.

  ‘You don’t touch my property,’ Rushe rumbled. ‘None of you. You not clear on the rules?’

  When he spoke, she was never aware of his lips moving, or eyes, or anything. And they weren’t words as much as a bassy variety of vibrations from his chest. The third man was nervous; she had no read on the driver; and Rushe... he was unreadable.

  Keeping her attention on her knees, Flick tried to forget her surroundings, the men here, and what lay ahead.

  The positive thing about the length of the journey was that it gave her a reprieve. Whatever her future held Flick didn’t want to think about what details it could involve.

  All of the men muttered, but none of them stood up to Rushe. If he claimed her the others would respect that. Maybe respect wasn’t the word, but they wouldn’t refute it.

  Rushe was broad but lean, and the heat of his rock hard thigh against her made her physically quiver. This man was athletic but agile, and while he might not say much an awareness shimmered around him that spoke of a quick mind.

  But these men feared him. His position had to be superior to theirs, or he’d asserted his authority somehow. The muttering continued, but Rushe was unaffected.

  The air was thick, humid, and the tension between the men was apparent; in this vehicle there was no honour among thieves.

  Hayden would’ve left the restaurant by now. No one would miss her. He’d be in a cab, on his way home, cursing her name. Flick was alone.

  When her family cast her out a year ago she’d learned the hard way what being alone meant. She’d staggered like Bambi on ice, unable to find her feet. After having her purse snatched on two separate occasions, she’d thought herself independent and bad-ass. Boy did this scenario put that into perspective.

  The black of night stretched into the souls of the men in this vehicle, and when it left the highway, they drove for more than twenty minutes into more gloom. Streetlights and civilisation were a long-forgotten dream; darkness and trees were the only things outside now.

  The trees thickened, and their vehicle swung around a narrow bend into a side lane. From the bumping and bouncing Flick knew they were off-road. This wasn’t a concrete thoroughfare. They dodged trees and the bumping increased. Cresting a ridge, they fell into a dip and Flick came out of her seat, landing on top of Rushe.

  Skeeve whooped and took the chance to grab for her breast. Rushe shoved her aside as an inconvenience but that took her out of Skeeve’s reach.

  Then after a series of mounds the whole vehicle lurched to a stop. All of the men piled out. Rushe reached over her to open the door, then shoved her outside.

  Any thought Flick had about running vanished when mud seeped between her toes and over her feet. Trees barred her view from every angle; all she could see was the truck and a shack.

  Calling it a shack was polite. A rickety old porch seemed to hold the walls in place like a belt holding in the beer gut of a darts player.

  As she was still stuttering at the view that didn’t even allow moonlight through the canopy, Rushe grabbed her arm and regardless of her unstable footing, he dragged her toward the shack in the
wake of the rowdy men, who had exited the truck first.

  Going up the creaking wooden stairs, Flick knew walking in there was final. Taking the chance, she dug in her heels and tried to liberate her arm. Rushe wasn’t perturbed. He hoisted her off her feet, and despite her struggling and screaming, he kicked into the shack and crossed the width of the room.

  Without thought for the others Rushe shoved open a door, carried her in, and threw her down onto the floor with a thud. A nearby rope was used to bind Flick’s hands, which he then attached to a pipe that ran along the wall.

  The room was small, little more than a cell, ten foot square with a single bed, and a small set of drawers at its side. Rushe yanked open the top one and pulled out a folded pair of socks, which he held up to her.

  ‘You gonna keep your mouth shut?’ he said.

  Rushe hadn’t put a light on, so she still didn’t get a good look at him. But the angles of his face told her he wasn’t to be messed with.

  ‘I—‘

  ‘There’s no one around here for thirty miles,’ he said. ‘Scream yourself raw and you’ll only piss me off. You want this in your mouth?’

  ‘I got something she can put in there.’

  Rushe spun on the man she hadn’t noticed either. ‘You get the fuck out of here.’

  After he hurled the door into its frame he came back to her.

  ‘Please let me go.’

  ‘I’m not letting you go,’ he said. ‘If you keep your mouth shut and stay put we won’t have a problem... are you gonna do what you’re told this time?’

  Any argument she had died on her lips knowing that reason wouldn’t get her anywhere. In fairness, the last time she hadn’t heeded his word she’d got herself into this mess, so she nodded.

  ‘Good girl.’

  With that he left her alone in the darkness. The finality of that closing door sent tears skittering down her cheeks. She’d never leave this house again, or at least she wouldn’t leave it alive – of that Flick was absolutely sure.

  Flick had given up her attempts to hear what was going on outside this room. Voices came and went; they got louder then dimmed; voices laughed then growled, jeered and joked. It went on for hours.

  At least she’d assumed it was hours. With her hands restrained against the pipe, Flick couldn’t see her watch. Not that it would matter, because there was no light but for the slither glowing under the door.

  Everything had happened so fast. Flick replayed events over in her mind, trying to figure out how she had found herself here. From being on that street dwelling on her crappy day, to here, alone in this small room, waiting for her jailer to return.

  Rushe hadn’t harmed her physically but Flick couldn’t be sure that would last. For all she knew they were out there getting drunk, waiting to attack her when they all got up the courage. But men like those in that back room at Dell’s didn’t need an excuse to assault a woman, they’d been willing to do it since they set eyes on her. Rushe hadn’t. He had tried to warn Flick against going into that bar. Flick had never been known for toeing any line. Perhaps she entered Dell’s in defiance of Rushe’s request. That did sound like something she’s do, once again her stubbornness had got her into trouble.

  But the how didn’t matter, she was here now. Here in this isolated shack, with at least five men, and the only thing that had prevented her from being harmed further was Rushe. His motivation was unclear, and he hadn’t given Flick any details of his intentions, all she could do was wait. Hope didn’t linger in her, if she had believed that kicking and screaming, and raising bloody hell would liberate her then she would do it. But Rushe had warned her against it. Flick didn’t want to piss off the only thing that stood between her and the depraved animals who had tethered her to the bed in Dell’s.

  Her body grew heavy. Her feet were cold and her legs had fallen asleep from the hardness of the bare boards beneath her rear. Flick’s hands had long since gone numb and the weight of the night settled on her, so her eyes began to drift closed.

  Just when the exhaustion was about to overcome her footfalls came closer and the door opened. She squinted into the burst of light that died when the door closed again. There was one step, then a squeak of the bed.

  Unexpectedly light flooded the space dazzling her. But she couldn’t raise her hand to shield her eyes, so she blinked into it. When Flick lifted her head she saw that the light came from a lamp on top of the drawers. Rushe sat there on the bed with his elbows on his knees and his hands clasped, just looking at her.

  The harsh line of his brow intimidated, but his mid-length thick dark brown hair was wild, finger-combed and curled over his ears. While it needed a wash it looked butter soft. The stubble on his jaw was more than a couple of days of growth. But his colouring and rough look was nothing in the ferocity of his black-as-night eyes. The longer he sat there looking at her the more self-conscious Flick became.

  ‘What are you looking at?’ she asked.

  ‘How old are you?’ Again his lips never moved.

  ‘Fifteen if it makes a difference.’

  ‘It doesn’t.’

  ‘I’m twenty-seven, are you going to let me go now?’

  ‘No,’ he said, still studying her.

  ‘Where are we?’

  ‘Far away from everything.’

  The noise from beyond that door had died down and she hoped the others had left but she knew she wasn’t that lucky.

  ‘What are you going to do with me?’ she asked. ‘You told me what the others were into. Are you going to turn me out to them when you’ve had your way?’

  ‘Are you going to behave?’

  ‘I’ve been quiet, just like I said I would be. Please tell me what you’re going to do.’ When she blinked hot moisture rolled over her lashes.

  ‘Don’t do that,’ he said, almost wincing.

  ‘Do what?’ she asked as another sob shook her throat. ‘Please, I want to go home!’

  With blurred vision and a gasping sob she dropped her face to her knees. Reality had become unbearable, each hair on her skin shuddered.

  Decisions she’d made in her life jumped through her mind and she had regret. Things she hadn’t considered for years she rethought, wishing she’d done things differently, and now she wouldn’t have a chance.

  Flick hadn’t heard him move, all she was aware of was the clench around her heart. The weight in her chest came with the knowledge that her life was going to be brutally cut short.

  Then someone touched the back of her head. Raising her face from her knees she saw him seated on the floor right in front of her. As more tears escaped, he tucked her hair away, and shifted closer to gather her into his arms.

  Much as she knew this man was to be feared, the strength in his hold and the stability of his chest gave her a security that she needed to lean on. He held her body against his, offering comfort without taking advantage, or copping a feel.

  Flick’s tears dried. Falling apart in the embrace of a stranger wasn’t something she’d do. But the shock of his gentle, unfamiliar act wasn’t the reason for her upset vanishing. For some reason he actually made her feel better. These arms if used for good would be formidable.

  ‘Are you going to have sex with me?’ she asked, resting her weight against him.

  ‘No,’ he said, and the vibration of bass in his chest rumbled through her. ‘But it will be in your interest to let Skeeve and the others think otherwise.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because if they think I’m doing you they’ll leave you alone... do you want them to touch you?’

  ‘Of course not,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘Why can’t you let me go?’

  ‘I was serious about there being nothing around here for miles. You wouldn’t get far. These men are into serious things. I can’t guarantee that you’re going to get out of this.’

  ‘You’re not like them, are you?’

  In an instant he let her go and got back onto his feet. ‘You better not get comfortable, Red,’
he said. ‘You walked right into the snake pit. Don’t trust anyone. Everyone here has an agenda.’

  ‘What’s your agenda?’

  Producing a pocketknife, he cut through her bonds. ‘Are you hungry?’

  ‘No,’ she said.

  The socks he’d threatened her with earlier lay on the bed until he grabbed them up and lobbed them at her.

  ‘Put those on, it gets cold in here.’

  ‘Where are we?’ she asked, rubbing the blood back into her legs.

  ‘Get up and walk,’ he said. ‘You’ll cramp.’

  While this sounded like a suggestion, he snatched her, and yanked her up to her feet. ‘You haven’t spent much time around people, have you?’

  She shouldn’t sass the man who held her captive, but it didn’t matter because just as he’d ignored her questions, he ignored her statement. Rushe retrieved a dark red and black flannel shirt, which he threw at her.

  ‘Put that on.’

  Her extremities were still tingling with the cramp he’d warned her of, but she managed to catch the items. ‘I...’

  ‘Take off the dress,’ he said, dropping onto the bed to unlace his boots.

  ‘What? But you... you said—‘

  ‘Take it off,’ he said, kicking his boots off.

  When he stood up he turned his back on her, and it took Flick a moment to realise that he was giving her privacy, he respected her modesty.

  Not wanting to miss the window she unzipped her dress and let it drop while stuffing her arms into the soft material of his shirt.

  It smelled clean, and masculine, something in it gave her refuge. The sleeves hung down well past her hands and the length reached her knees. Despite not wearing underwear, this garment actually gave her more cover than her own clothes had.

  At the same time she bent to pick up her dress he turned and snatched it away from her. His reason for doing so was no clearer to her when he ripped the silk, then flung it aside.

  ‘Why did you...?’

  ‘Do you want to have sex?’