by Ann Raina
Oliver was the type of guy easily overlooked. He was of average height with a few pounds more than were shapely, had a round face, curly brown hair and a nose, which--painted red--would qualify him as a clown. A dark, short cut beard covered most of his face, but left free his full lips. They gave the expression of permanent pouting, never serious, almost kind of mocking. His clothes seldom matched and today's brown pants did not fit with the pink dress shirt and the off-white sandals, but Kyra never mentioned it. He was a good salesman, a very open, honest to God man with a clear and positive view of the world. Someone who did not complain, but handled the situations as they appeared. He was all smiling happiness when they met. He stooped to her, voice low, eyes wide and curious, and his left hand gently touched her brown wavy hair. "Did everything go as planned?"
Kyra laughed. "You sound like a secret agent. Will you flash your ID now?"
His hand dropped. "Aren't we? And you're okay?"
"Everything's fine, Oliver, no need to worry. The guards were very helpful."
"I bet." He frowned. "And he? Did he protest? Struggle?"
"Oh, yes." She nodded. "Oh, yes."
Oliver smacked his lips. "Against what? Everything?"
"The moment I took out the stuff, he was really stressed."
"I thought so. He called you names?"
"You should've accompanied me then you wouldn't need to ask that many questions."
"Oh, no, Kyra, me and prison doesn't go along well."
"You never told me you were in prison." She smiled impishly.
"I was not. But still I don't want to be there. It…" He twitched his fingers before his chest. "Gives me the creeps." He pointed over his shoulder. "So he was not behaving the way he should, which leads to the one solution--he needs a lesson. Right away."
"So you really think we should do this?" Kyra flinched. Oliver's proposal had sounded good the moment they had talked about it, but now she was not sure anymore.
"We have to. You have to. Believe me." He sighed, seeing her discomfort and hesitation. "You gotta learn some more things before this will work. Really."
"We were clear about this before, but you stopped teaching me."
"That was after you lost yourself in work."
She got serious again. "Sorry, but, yes, there were some preparations to be done at work, too, right? I couldn't just dump him there and see what happens."
"You made preparations to secure him, I hope."
"Yes, but also to inform my staff about him working there."
"Ah, yes, of course." He glimpsed into the car and took a deep breath. "Is your car so small or that guy so big?"
"It's a Grand Cherokee, Oliver." She grinned lopsidedly. "And he didn't quite fit."
Oliver swallowed visibly. "Let's get him out. If he didn't get stuck already." He hesitated a moment. "So you're with me on this? We stick to the plan? Not a word until he's safely in your kitchen." She nodded heavy-heartedly, still insecure if the decision was right.
Oliver watched silently when Kyra opened the passenger door and released the convict from the seatbelt. Julian lifted his chin, breathing hard enough to make her understand he wanted the gag out. Kyra ignored his wish, helped him stand and took his elbow to guide him. His next action broke the grip and lifted his chin with a headshake. She took his elbow again. Behind them, Oliver failed complete suppression of his laughter. Kyra silently scolded him for his amusement, but tried again to lead Julian to the garage. He followed, but with obvious reluctance. "Move!" she finally ordered. "Or you won't get rid of the cuffs today!" That made him huff and flinch. Kyra was not sure anymore if he was just uneasy or truly frightened. The garage was large, built for two cars and now half of it was filled with items usually filling Oliver's place.
"Stand still." She took a snap hook from the ceiling, put it through the D-ring at the collar and pulled it tight with the winch Oliver had built at the wall. The prisoner felt the tightness and made a sound deep in his throat. "I'll help you change clothes so don't try to kick me." She watched him for a moment as he tried to calm his breathing.
Oliver silently entered the garage and moved closer, careful not to let Julian know.
When Kyra thought it safe, she opened the foot chains and took off his boots. "Violet! Your socks are violet!" She chortled. "And why do people keep telling me I have no sense for colors?" His only answer was a sound of frustration. "But maybe you didn't choose the clothes, hmm? Let me bet you didn't." She lifted the belt of the chains to open his pants. His breathing stopped. He swallowed and Kyra hurried to make it less awkward for both of them. The boxers followed.
Oliver had gotten close enough to watch, and there was much to be seen. He licked his lips while she rummaged through the sports bag to find briefs and faded jeans. "That's very nice," he whispered in her ear.
She smiled in return. She knew Oliver had not just come to give her a hand. Or maybe he would have. Literally. She better did not think about it. Dressing Julian was the easier part--he wanted it and helped as best as he could.
"Now the shirt." Kyra snapped open a jackknife.
Julian tried to step back. The chains clanked. He turned on the spot, unable to get away.
Kyra frowned because he knew the sound. "I won't harm you, but the shirt has to go." She cut through the fabric along his sternum, watching him draw breath and inching his head away the farthest he could when the blade reached the collar. She cut along the sleeves and pulled the shredded fabric away.
Oliver ran a hand over his mouth. There was no doubt he was excited about the show.
Muscles and more and all of it bound to be watched or…touched. Kyra could not help being fascinated. Her fingers wanted to trail the waves of his tight stomach muscles, but she held back. "Better. I'll let you dress in the kitchen." He raised his brows. She smiled, glad he could not see her. She threw his shirt over her shoulder and stood on tiptoe to take out the hook. He relaxed a little. She led him through the hall and living room into the kitchen. Kyra had prepared a mattress behind the counter, which divided the kitchen from the living room. A long chain with a cuff was wound around the major pillar close to it. She had secured the chain short enough so he could not reach the main cabinets. She made him stand still and locked the cuff around his ankle. He took a step, but the chain held him. "Now hold still." She unlocked the handcuffs and retreated immediately. "You can take off the gag and blindfold now."
Julian did not need another invitation. He literally ripped off the Velcro and thrust gag and blindfold on the kitchen floor. Blinking into the sunlight pouring through the large windows, he searched for Kyra. "You twisted bitch! How could you fucking do this! I'm not your goddamned galley slave!" He caught the shirt she threw him. "How could you dare touch me?" He slipped into the shirt. "Answer me!"
Oliver had stayed well behind in the living room, out of sight. He signaled Kyra to keep going then left her house.
She cleared her throat. Again the thought that he might not be cooperative crossed her mind. His brown eyes were large and glowing with anger. A thin film of sweat covered his brow. His forward step caught by the short chain again was punctuated by a curse. If the chain broke… Kyra shoved the thought away. The chain would hold an elephant. No need to worry. "You chose to work for five months instead of being in prison--"
"Yeah, I did! But that didn't include being gagged and blindfolded for starters! Not to mention a knife at my throat!"
"I do what I see fit, Julian, and your treatment would have been better if you hadn't fought in the first place."
"Fought?" His voice rose to screaming. "You haven't seen me fight, you freak! Don't you ever do that to me again!"
Kyra let go of her breath, leaned against the counter, which faced one side of the garden, and folded her arms beneath her breasts. Her shirt and jacket were sweaty and she longed for a shower. "I'll do what is necessary to keep you under control. If you offer me to fight whatever I order you to do this will be a short stay at my house."
&
nbsp; "Your house, hmm?" He took a look around. "You plan to keep me like that? Chained to a pillar?"
"I can offer you a dog kennel outside if you prefer."
"Bitch." He tore at the chain again, testing it, testing the firmness of the pillar and venting his anger. He looked around intensely as if the furniture and decorations would tell him about Kyra and what to expect. "You didn't answer me. Will you keep me chained?"
"Yes."
"It's not allowed to imprison me like this."
"Says who?" She turned to pour a glass of water.
"You're not allowed to treat me like a slave! You can put me to work. Everything else is over your head."
With the glass in hand she looked back at him. "Isn't it over your head to argue with me? This is my home, Julian. And over here I set the rules. And rule number one--you will behave yourself."
"Oh, fuck, yeah, and do what you want? Perish the thought!"
"If you misbehave--"
"I know you'll send me back. An easy threat, right? Fuck! Don't think this gives you the right to do everything with me." He shook his head and put his hands on his hips. "I didn't know women were allowed on this program."
"I didn't know a jerk like you would take the first chance to be such an asshole."
"Great. And what the fuck shall I do? This doesn't look like a firm, does it? Or did you think I was a house slave?"
"Would you prefer that? Or are you gay so that being at a woman's house is oh, so disgusting?"
"Don't gimme that wisecrack shit!"
She wanted to answer, but the same moment the telephone rang. She took it in the kitchen with her back turned to him. "Hello?"
Julian huffed and, after giving the pillar a jab, sat down on the mattress.
"I just heard the news." Kyra's father sounded out of breath. "Why did you join the program, Kyra?
"I was finally on their profile list. They offered and I agreed. I can always use some strong hands in the firm."
"You chose a man? Kyra, are you out of your mind?"
"No." Kyra frowned over the phone. "I don't think that they got girls in it." She did not mention that Oliver's influence had kept her from thinking about a female delinquent. The realization was worth a smile.
"Oh, please." Milton Jennings let go an exaggerated sigh. "Didn't they offer you a woman or did you plainly think there were only men in the program?"
"They didn't offer anyone in particular. I just said yes and they made the choice for me."
"Great. Kyra, you know that no matter what size the man is you can never handle him. He's always more muscle and more strength that you got."
Kyra glimpsed around the corner where Julian sat on the ground, chained to the pillar and looking grumpy. "I agree with that, dad."
"Thank you. Now, better get off the list before they send you someone."
"He's already here."
Milton gasped and coughed. "He's what?"
"I fetched him this afternoon."
"And…" He had to take a deep breath. "And is he…"
Kyra knew he would be stroking back his hair now and taking off his glasses a moment later. "He's a hunk." She smiled to the phone, enjoying rendering her dad speechless. It was rare and did not last long.
"They gave you a tall, strong criminal?"
She nodded and knew he had perfectly understood her.
"Dear, don't let this happen! Call the next police office and let them bring him back! You can't handle him!"
The underlying panic caused her to frown and stirred anger somewhere deep inside her. She voted for challenging her old man a bit more. "I think I'll give it a shot."
"No! Don't you know why they did this?" He did not wait for her to reply. "They want to fool you! They want to prove you wrong! That you cannot do this! And I tell you, you can't!"
"Dad, what's this all about?" She stood close to the counter to watch Julian. He looked up, deep brown eyes meeting hers. They held a fire that was both frightening and fascinating. She knew the fight with him was not over yet.
"They're already bets out that you won't make it through the first week."
"Great."
"But that's not all." Milton went on, his voice touched by despair, "If you give up, no matter when, they'll make fun of you."
"I don't care. I don't work there anymore. And it's none of my business what they talk at the station."
"It's still my business," he replied sullenly.
Kyra felt anger rise, but controlled her answer. "So you thought that I better chicken out before I got started. Is that right? To save you the trouble?"
"I don't care about the jokes, Kyra. I care about you. And I advise you to send him back to prison rather than try employing him as a worker in your business. It runs well without him giving you a hard time."
Kyra took a deep breath, once again fighting a harsh reply that would ruin the whole conversation. She could not count the times her father had accused her of being the shame of the family to give up a police career for a stinking normal business. The same way he had turned down her brother for not becoming a policeman. He was a studied pharmacist by now and had broken with the family. "It's my decision, dad. I'm old enough to know what I want and, to keep you out of trouble and save you from the big boys' mockery, I think I'll try to be even better." She hung up before he said another word. Kyra held the phone in her right hand, swinging it while she thought about his words. Her father was already a captain, so why did it bother him so much that his daughter might fail? Who would dare to mock him aside from the commissioner?
Julian lifted the foot chain. "For how long are you going to leave me like this?"
Kyra put the phone on the wall hook, took a chair and straddled it. She crossed her arms on the backrest and looked Julian in the eyes. "I showed you this afternoon what I'm capable of. I can do that again every day. Chain you, keep you blindfolded and gagged." His eyes twitched. He held her stare, letting her know she would have to fight to blindfold him again. "You chose the program to avoid prison. I chose a delinquent to give him work plus a chance. You either do work and keep the chance or ruin it. It's your choice. Follow my rules and I don't need to punish you. I will only be rough with you if you bring it upon yourself."
"Did you rehearse that speech long?
She tried her best to ignore the scathing undertone. "In fact, I took the time to list up the rules and your duties. They're on the door to your right. If you fail you'll be punished. If you fail once too often, you're back in jail. Three years at least."
"Two."
"You didn't read the fine print, did you? If you're brought back because of severe misbehavior one year is added to your sentence. If the failure was so severe someone was harmed it might be more. You cannot join the program again and no commutation will be granted." He looked stunned, beaten and all color drained from his face. It was such a strong change Kyra was out of words for a moment. Her voice was soft when she asked, "You truly haven't known, right?"
"No." The words came out breathless, a whisper. "Why didn't anyone tell me?"
"Because they thought you read it, maybe?"
"They only said I could do it because I fit the program. They didn't tell me the consequences if it goes wonky."
"Now you know and you better behave yourself properly. I'm not buttering your ass. If you fail, you leave." Kyra waited for him to say something, but the news had gotten the best of him. Anger and agitation vanished. He swallowed, looked through the window and back into her face. "Now that we got this settled, let me tell you what I want." He was so still it was unnerving. "I run a business. I produce greeting cards, calendars and other office supplies. You'll work in the packing area." He nodded. "And you'll clean up my place, do what needs to be done and what I tell you." He opened his mouth for a reply, but she was faster. "There'll be no argument about the tasks. I don't want to hear a word about how you feel or if you like doing what I order you to do. Just do it and we'll get along fine."
"Whatever you sa
y." He lowered his head and let go of his breath slowly as if composing himself.
Kyra did not like that he had been sent into this program without proper information. There were evenings offered for those participating in the program. She would ask for confirmation of what the delinquents knew in advance. Maybe he was playing on her emotions. She did not want to be fooled. She stood, waiting for another question. He remained silent. "You were told that the collar gives the police a signal? That they know where you are?"
"Yes."
"You also know that breaking it causes you to be sedated on the spot?" His head was up again in a flash. The lost and beaten look was back in his eyes. Kyra thought of a child who found out that the breadcrumbs did not lead out of the magic wood. "Now you know. So trying to run away is futile." Unless you kill me first because then there's nobody calling the police and telling them that you're on the loose. He gave another small nod. Kyra turned and left the kitchen. She needed a drink.
CHAPTER 2
The news of being back to more years in prison if he misbehaved left Bithrell taciturn at the dinner table. Kyra thought about her father's strange demand and the way he still tried to force himself into her life so she was not interested in conversation either. She cleared the table, put the dishes in the sink and shoved the table back to its place, out of reach for the prisoner.
"May I use the bathroom?"
Kyra's first instinct was to say no. Oliver's words that he might use every excuse to put his hands around her throat were on her mind, but she had to be brave or would never make it through five months with Bithrell in her house. "Close the foot chains."
"What?"
"You heard me right."
Bithrell frowned. "I got the message. I just need to see a man about a horse. And brush my teeth, if you allow that."
"And I don't want you running through my house."
His eyes twitched and never left her when he closed the cuffs around his ankles. "You're afraid of me."
