Captive, Mine

by Natasha Knight

  “Lake…”

  He didn’t respond, rather he let her dread — and his anticipation — hang heavy in the air. This was a turning point, of sorts. If he could get her to obey him here, he knew there was a glimmer of hope.

  Her fingers grasped her cheeks and eased them slightly apart.

  “More than that. I’ve got all day. Dragging it out only makes it worse for you.”

  Lily pulled them fully open, her back hitching once, a quavering sound from deep in her throat.

  The dark whorl of her anus came into view, the perineum, the delicate petals of her inner lips visible between the plump lips of her sex. Unable to resist, he drew a fingertip between her buttocks, savoring the feel of the smooth flesh there. He tapped lightly on that tight, vulnerable entrance, and she grunted, her anus clenching reflexively.

  “You know what to do, Ms. Cross.”

  Her fingers paused, one of them raised, shaking, as if she were agonizing over the decision. He hoped she was.

  Then those fingers moved lower, between the soft labia, splaying them, the bright wetness within making his cock throb once more.

  “That’s it.” He turned his hand palm up and stroked a finger along that wet, pink flesh, the tip easing forward against the prominent hood protecting her clit. He worked that bundle of nerves for a moment, again curious at what she might do. He smiled at the involuntary tightening of her hamstrings and her harsh exhalation of breath, but, again, she stayed put.

  “Interesting.”

  He rose, slapping her on the hip.

  “Time for that shower.”

  She spun around immediately, her hands covering her sex and breasts once more. Her brow was furrowed, her teeth working at the corner of her mouth. She moistened dry lips with her tongue then took two deep breaths and looked up at him. But when he met her eyes, they weren’t shooting daggers as he’d expected. He saw something else there instead.

  Confusion.

  She crouched down, reaching for her clothes.

  “No. Those stay here. I need to check them too.” He stepped back, sweeping an arm toward the door. “You’re welcome to that shower now. You can close the door, but don’t lock it.”

  “I don’t… I don’t understand this,” she said, shouldering past him. “Any of it.”

  The door to the bathroom slammed, the springs of the mattress whispering as Lake sat down, studying the slippery moisture still glistening on his finger.

  “Neither do I, Ms. Cross.”

  Chapter 7

  In the time it took me to get into the bathroom, I was already blocking what had just happened from my mind. I looked at my face in the mirror. What the hell was wrong with me? I pushed the shower curtain aside, switched on the water and glanced at the lock on the door. I reached for the little button, knowing if he wanted to, he’d shove the damned thing open with his shoulder and punish me for locking it. I did it anyway though. I needed one minute where I could be alone, even if I was kidding myself.

  The tile was cold beneath me but I sat there anyway, processing. I didn’t believe my dad had hired Lake to protect me. Or rather, if he had hired Lake, Lake was no longer working for him. What had happened when he had knocked me out in the car? I had no idea and I wasn’t sure I wanted to know. I did remember the feeling moments before though. And I remembered well DeSalvo pulling on his gloves, asking me something about what I’d be willing to do to survive.

  A shiver ran through me and I rose up off the ground. What had happened a minute ago in that bedroom left no doubt as to how far I’d go to survive.

  “Screw you, Lake Freeman!” It wasn’t loud enough for him to hear and I did twist the doorknob a little to release the lock before I got into the shower. There was some noise in the hallway like he was drilling or something.

  The water was thankfully hot, almost too hot, and the bathroom had already begun to steam up. I picked up the bottle of cheap shampoo and squeezed some onto my palm, scrubbing my head furiously.

  What the fuck was that in the bedroom anyway? Checking me for a wire? Bullshit, and we both knew it. He was no different than other man — a horny fuck. He wanted to show me who was in charge? Well, I knew that. He hadn’t had to make me do that.

  And what about my reaction? Since when had I been one to strip when told to strip? Who dared even tell me to strip? Who dared tell me to bend over and…?

  Heat flooded my face. Fuck! When had I forgotten who I was?

  Blood boiled in my veins. At least I was getting angry. I might have been scared before, confused even. My body’s reaction to him puzzled me but that was chemistry. That was all it was. And Lake could go fuck himself. He got himself an eyeful today. Probably was jerking off at the memory even now.

  “Hope you enjoyed the view, Lake Freeman,” I said aloud after rinsing my hair. I looked around for conditioner but all I found was a used bar of soap. Gross. My hair was going to be a wreck to comb through without conditioner.

  Shaking my head, I switched off the water. I wasn’t here to win a beauty contest. I was here because Lake Freeman had decided to kidnap me and bring me here. His intent? That I didn’t understand. And quite frankly, I didn’t care. I needed to get out of here. All I needed was a way out of the house, a few minutes to get to the truck and I’d be gone. Hell, maybe I could run him over on my way.

  Two towels were stacked on a shelf in the corner. I wrapped my hair in one and dried off with the other before wrapping that one around myself, my clothes being in the other room where he could check them for a wire. Christ, what bullshit.

  I opened the medicine cabinet but found only an expired bottle of Advil there.

  “You about done in there?” Lake asked, knocking, making me jump.

  “No.”

  I opened the drawers beneath the sink. There I found a toothbrush, some toothpaste and floss and one other thing that brightened my day a little: nail clippers, the old-fashioned kind with the file you could turn out that had the very sharp point. I could try to pick the lock on the window with it and if that failed, stabbing Lake was a good alternative. Better maybe.

  He knocked on the door again and I palmed the clippers.

  “What, you’re knocking now?” I asked, my heart racing. What would he do if he caught me?

  “You’re right, I forgot myself,” he said, his tone flat.

  I pulled the towel tight around myself when he opened the door and looked me over.

  “Get out,” I said, meeting his gaze in the mirror.

  “Mind your manners.”

  “Screw you.”

  “Lily…” he began, drawing out my name.

  I needed a minute. “I need to brush my teeth. Can I at least get my toothbrush? I have one in my bag.” I’d keep talking, distract him until I figured out what I was going to do. “And toothpaste. You know what, just get me my purse.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “I’m not your errand boy,” he said. “Let’s go, back in your room.” He gripped my arm and pulling away was not an option. “I’ve got work to do.”

  “You’ve been busy already,” I said, eyeing the brand new deadbolt on the outside of my bedroom door.

  “If you prefer to be handcuffed to your bed, let me know. A little gratitude would go a long way, you know.”

  I looked at him, holding the towel tight to me, the clippers in the palm of my hand. I couldn’t help myself. “So I should thank you for kidnapping me?” I asked, my smile saccharine. “Is that what you’re waiting for? Is that why you’ve been acting like such a prick?”

  “Careful, Lily. You get one warning.”

  Why my belly reacted like it did to that comment, I didn’t even want to think about. I went into the room to find my purse there. It was open, and the contents had been dumped out onto the bed but it was here, at least. It was somehow a comfort.

  “Be good, Lily,” he said, pulling the door closed.

  “Wait!” I called out, running to grab it.

  He waited.

  “What’s
happening?”

  “Nothing. I have some things to do. You’ll stay here while I do them.” He began to pull the door closed.

  “Are you leaving?” My tone was more panicked than I cared to admit.

  “Are you going to miss me?” he asked, leaning against the doorframe.

  “You’re an asshole.”

  “Didn’t think so. Be good, or else.”

  “Screw you.”

  His expression changed and his hand was around my throat in an instant, walking me back into the room and holding me against the wall. I curled my hand around his forearm trying to pull him off while my other hand fisted against his chest, his rock-hard chest, reminding me that there was one person in charge here and it wasn’t me.

  “I’m sorry,” I managed quickly, a part of me reacting, surviving maybe, deciding to bow down without my permission.

  He stared at me for a full minute before his hand loosened a little. He looked like he wanted to say something but then changed his mind and released me. Without another word, he walked out the door. It was when I heard the deadbolt sealing me in that I realized I was holding my breath.

  My entire body trembled as I lowered myself onto the bed. I went to the window and pushed the curtains aside. Shutters from the outside kept the room dark. I tried to push the window open but wasn’t surprised to find it locked. I set the clippers down and quickly pulled on my clothes that he had piled on the bed. Once dressed, I took the clippers and got to work on the lock.

  I’d never done anything like this before and that was fairly obvious when I tried to stick the thing into the lock. It always looked easy in the movies, but this was reality. It didn’t take a brain surgeon to figure out this wasn’t going to be my exit.

  “Crap.”

  I touched my thumb to the point of the file. After all he had done to me, I didn’t want to do this to him. It was too close, too personal, too…violent.

  What about what he did to you?

  Close, personal and violent would about cover that. I had to get my shit together. When he opened that door and came in here, I’d have to do it. I’d have to do it fast, surprise him and run the hell out of here. I’d use his own deadbolt to lock him in here then get in the truck and go.

  Go where though? The US Marshal was ready to hand me over to Randall. Randall was out looking for me, I could bet my life on that. The police? Idiots. And the ones who weren’t idiots could be bought.

  My dad was set to testify in the next few months. I was only of use to Randall until then. I’d just have to hide out for a little while. That was doable. And I’d have to get word to my dad that I was okay.

  But first, I had to get out of here.

  I picked up my bag and felt inside it, touched the very bottom where the cash and my key to the safe deposit box were hidden, relieved to see he’d not found the secret pocket.. I only needed to make sure to grab my bag when I bolted.

  It would only be a few months. There was an end in sight and I could do this on my own.

  I lay down on the bed and stared up at the ceiling, thinking of what had happened just before my shower. I’d been with men before, not a lot but I wasn’t a virgin either. But what he had made me do, that was something different. I should have been disgusted by it, ashamed, humiliated. But I wasn’t; there was no room for that. Instead, I slid my hand over my belly and unbuttoned my jeans. The zipper came down next and my fingers slid into my panties, over my bare sex, finding my already swollen, wet clit. A sound came from my throat and I rolled over onto my belly, pressing my face into the pillow. My fingers worked that hard little nub fast, the memory of standing there like I had, the image of myself bent over, spreading myself. The feel of his fingers on me, on my clit, my pussy, my asshole.

  I swallowed, the sound loud, the pillow wet when I pressed my thighs together, pushing hard against my clit, rubbing into the mattress, hips bucking, my fingers soaked.

  I stayed like that for a long time afterward, my eyes open, staring at a white wall wondering what the hell was wrong with me that the image of myself bending over and spreading myself open on my kidnapper’s order could get me off.

  I tightened my hold on the clippers that were now under my pillow, pulled my hand out of my jeans and waited.

  * * *

  It was a long time before I heard him at the door. I had fallen asleep at some point and sat up fast now, wiping sleep from my eyes, suddenly very alert, my sorry weapon in hand.

  What if it didn’t work? He’d be mad. No, he’d be pissed.

  No time for doubt. I had one chance.

  I stood then sat back down. The lock slid and I watched the doorknob turn. I needed him to come inside. If I waited at the door, he’d know something was up. Hell, I’d be lucky if he didn’t know the second he opened the door as it was.

  My purse! It was beside the bed on the floor. Okay, it was okay. I could do this. I just had to breathe and stay calm.

  “Hope you’ve been a good girl, Lily,” Lake said, pushing the door open and walking inside.

  I stared up at him and he stared back. Something passed through his eyes and he glanced around the room. This was it. Without allowing myself to even think about it, I ran at him, the sharp point of the file aimed straight at him, straight at his neck.

  For a split second, he looked surprised.

  But I hesitated. I was inches from him and I hesitated so when I finally moved to stab him, he caught my wrist and leaned to the side so I stabbed air instead. My free hand scratched at his face, trying for his eyes but he caught that one too, pushing me back, looking at me for a moment, his eyes hard, taking the clippers from me before pushing me onto the bed.

  He looked at what he held. “Nail clippers, Lily?” he asked, laughing but not really. “Fucking nail clippers?”

  He stalked toward me and I climbed backward on the bed, feeling tears on my face but not knowing when I’d started crying. “I’m sorry!” He grabbed my arm hard, yanking. “I’m sorry, Lake!”

  His eyes were so dark, all I could do was stare up at him, my body trembling.

  He made a sound and let go of me. Without a word, he walked out of the room, and slid the deadbolt back into place.

  Chapter 8

  Lake paced the front porch, needing the invigorating chill of the fresh air, his mind a mass of confusion, disappointment, and, oddly, excitement. He knew even going outside at all was dangerous at this point, but he didn’t have a choice.

  The complication inside the house had just gotten a helluva lot more complicated.

  Fishing his phone out of his jeans pocket, he punched the number, kicking the base of one of the roof pillars of the porch, white paint flaking off onto the black leather of his boot.

  “Kellen.” A pause, and a quiet chuckle. “Freeman, where the fuck have you been?”

  “Shut up and listen. I’m gonna need you on this right away. Drop whatever you’re doing.”

  “Okay, this should be good.” Kellen’s deceptively laconic voice was muffled for a minute then he was back on. “I’ll need twenty minutes to kit then I’ll be rolling.”

  “You remember where you picked us up?”

  “Yep.”

  “I left the car in a quarry, half a click from our pickup. You think you can find it?”

  Kellen gave him a dramatic sigh. “Bailing your ass out again, aren’t I?”

  “Will need a clean. Four-door sedan. I tucked the keys inside the front bumper, driver’s side corner.” Lake lowered the phone, thumbs whirling over the screen, then put it back to his ear. “You should have the location in a second.”

  “Got it. Disposal, too?”

  “Nope. Leave it be.” Lake glanced back at the closed door. “He’ll be back for it, I have no doubt. He’s gotta keep his shit wired tight just as much as I do.”

  “Press?”

  “Would you want to be the first US Marshal in history to lose a person from WITSEC?”

  Kellen chuckled. “Poor bastard. Shitting himself right abo
ut now.”

  “I wish that were true.” Lake’s voice lowered. “I did some checking on him. He’s a heavy hitter. I got lucky, actually.”

  “Nothing Kell can’t handle, boss.”

  “I mean it, Kellen. Quick and simple — then get the fuck out of there. And stay gone for a while. He’ll have help now.”

  “I should have it done in four hours, six if you left a mess.”

  “I didn’t, dickhead.”

  “And just when I thought the day was getting interesting.”

  Kellen hung up.

  Lake stared out at the trees swaying in the stiff breeze, inhaled the fresh scent of the forest. He’d missed this place, missed the quiet, the clean air, the solitude. He reached up, curling his fingertips over the top of the beam that spanned the porch, stretching his tense shoulders.

  “Are you really doing this?” he whispered.

  The images that played out in his mind had his groin tightening. Her gorgeous body, her silence, the trembling of her limbs as she’d reluctantly obeyed him. Perhaps such thoughts made him a bastard at best, a monster at worst. His physical reaction was true though, regardless of morals, of right or wrong. She needed to understand this, the truth of it, to get it through her head just how deep she was here. Her behavior couldn’t be tolerated, and allowing her any more leeway — or leniency — was now out of the question. First, there was the near disaster at the rest stop, and now the idiotic, almost comical stunt with the nail clippers.

  Nail clippers.

  Did she think this was a fucking movie?

  Yes, he was doing this. He was going to teach her — and she was going to learn, whether she wanted to or not.

  And he was going to enjoy it.

  * * *

  Originally, he’d built it as a guest room, separated from the main house. But after he’d built it, he’d never used it. The bathroom was still unfinished, and although it did have a modest bedroom set, it had become essentially a shed.

  It took him longer than he’d anticipated to move everything out, transferring most of the tools, the extra blankets, and furniture to the garage. By the time he’d finished, he was sweating, so he shed his jacket, the dark T-shirt wet against his chest. He checked the door latches and the locks, and other than being a little sticky from disuse, they checked out. His fingers tested the steel D-rings set along one of the walls. Years ago, once he’d resigned himself to the likelihood that no actual people would be staying in the room, he’d had the rings installed, intending to use them to string chain along the wall in order to store all the tools upright and secure.