RANSOM (3 page)

   I walk over to the edge of the window and barely pull open the curtain enough to see outside. Not a soul in site and the street is dead, which is understandable being as we are in my hometown of Ellabell. The population is so low here that most tourist driving through, heading to Savannah, think it’s a ghost town. What few people are in Ellabell are like family to me.

   I am brought from my thoughts by a shaky voice. “You live here?” Sage asks.

   I glance over my shoulder at her still cowering in the corner and say, “Welcome to my shitty world.”

   I wait until after she lies down and her breathing evens out before I come to sit outside. I pull one of the plastic chairs the hotel has out here and sit it next to the door. My mom always told me that revenge never ends the way you expect it to, and now I am holding this girl for ransom to get back at her father. I drop my head into my hands and ask myself, “What the hell have you done?”

   My ‘act now, think about the repercussions later’ behavior has yet again gotten me in trouble. My whole life I have acted as soon as an idea pops into my head. I will never forget the time I conned Jennifer into going into the woods one day because I got the bright idea to own a skunk. Needless to say, the idea stunk. Literally. Jen has been there for me on her fair share of my ideas and supported them even if she knew the outcomes where going to be disastrous.

   I pull my phone out of my pocket to text Jen and let her know about my current predicament to see if her amazing problem solving skills can help me through it. When I open the screen on my cell and see the time, I stuff it back in my pocket. If Jennifer worked a normal job texting her this early wouldn’t be a problem, but she works at the one and only bar here. That means she didn’t get home until about an hour ago after ushering the local drunks out the door.

   Just as the cool spring air starts to relax me a bit, a noise comes from inside the room and I sit up on alert. After a few minutes of not hearing anything again, I run my both my hands down the side of my face and sit back and write it off as nerves. Just after I lean my head back and look up at the stars when a loud bang comes from the other side of the door.

Sage

Does he really expect me to just fall soundly asleep when I have been kidnapped? I don’t want to piss him off again, so I do as he says and lay down with my back to him. I force myself to calm down before I set on a panic attack, which I really do not need. Not long later, I hear him moving around the room and the door opening and closing. I stay completely still internally debating on turning over to see if he really left.

   I count to ten and take a deep breath. I take my time rolling over, careful not to make a noise. Now on my back, I lift my leg to turn the rest of the way when something rattles and hits the floor. My whole body freezes up. I’m not even sure I am capable of taking in air. Seconds tick by and he doesn’t come storming through the door. I look over the edge of the bed to find what made all that racket and almost want to do a face palm when I see the medicine bottle staring back at me.

   I sit up and ease my feet to the floor. I step over the bottle, and walk to the window, and peak out to see if I can find my kidnapper. I scan the parking lot and come up empty until movement next to the wall captures my attention. He looks aggravated as he runs his hands down his face and looks up at the sky.

   This is my chance to try and get out of here. I let go of the curtain and turn around to see if there is a back door to this room, or maybe even a window. I turn too quick though, causing one of the chairs at the table and me to play chicken. We both lose and fall to the floor. I don’t bother rushing to my feet, because I know there is no way in hell he didn’t hear that.

   The door is thrown open, and I am greeted by a towering silhouette. He flips on the light and looks over me tangled up in the chair. A smile appears at the corners of his mouth, and he asks, “Did the chair attack you, or did you go at it first?”

   I kick the chair off of me and stand up to say, “It was mutual.” I walk over to the bed and flop down against the headboard, folding my arms over my chest with a huff of embarrassment and anger.

   I raise my eyes when I hear a bubble of laughter coming from him. It’s almost like he is trying to keep it down but some escapes anyway.

   He catches me watching and clears his throat. “What were you doing really? Did you think I left you alone?”

   “It was worth a shot,” I tell him.

   “I’m not an idiot,” he says.

   “Could have fooled me. I mean you did kidnap one of the most powerful men in the
south’s daughter,” I explain.

   He walks to the foot of the bed with purpose. “He deserves to feel what it is like to have something precious ripped from you.”

   “What did my father do to you that was so awful?” I question.

   “He flushed my life down the toilet.” He shakes his head and continues, “You wouldn’t understand.”

   “And why is that?”

   “Because you haven’t had to work for a thing in your life,” he states.

   I drop my arms to the bed and lean forward, “Who says I haven’t?”

   “Daddy’s wallet.”

   “Just because we have money doesn’t mean I am incapable of working,” I bite out.

   He takes two strides to stand directly in front of me his brown eyes looking almost black. “Really? Tell me something you have had to work for in your life.”

   Huh. I stand there and ponder it over in my head for several minutes. What have I worked for? Well, shit. “Maybe I haven’t worked to earn money or material things before, but I have worked for things you can’t buy. I have been in a great relationship with my fiancé Richard for almost two years.”

   He moves in that last inch separating us and towers over my five foot five frame by almost a foot. He bends his head closer to me and says, “Exactly.”

  I angle my head so that I can look him in the eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean? It may not be physical work, but it is something. You probably don’t even have anyone in your life that cares enough to fight for you. So I’m sure you couldn’t understand that,” I throw his own words back at him. We stand there staring down each other for several tense minutes, neither willing to give in and say something first. When the tension almost gets to be too much I open my mouth, but not faster than him.

   “You don’t know the first thing about my life or the people in it so don’t pretend like you do.” He speaks with so much venom that I flinch with every word.

   I can tell I have hurt him somehow and almost go to apologize, when I remember that this son of a bitch has taken me away from my life so that he can get some freaking payback against my father. What I don’t get is why someone with a lifestyle like my nameless assailant would have any ties to a man like my father. I can’t stop myself before I ask, “What’s your name?”

   He seems caught off guard for a second but he recovers quickly. “Billy Bob,” he replies, and then turns and walks toward the bathroom door.

   “You’re full of shit if you think I am going to believe your real name is Billy Bob,” I shout at his back.

   He doesn’t bother to reply, just walks into the bathroom and turns on the water to the tub. When he comes into view again, he is pulling his shirt over his head. It doesn’t surprise me to find him covered in tattoos. What does surprise me is the fact I can’t take my eyes off of them. I have never thought tattoos were attractive on anyone, but hot damn! He is all around lean and ripped. Thick arms and chest that lead down to a tiny waist, and follows the ever loving ‘V’ that disappears into his jeans that are low and unfastened on his hips.

   The top of his underwear peak out of the top where his button is undone and I suddenly find myself wondering what is hidden underneath the rest. I don’t even register that he is walking over to me while I roam his body with my greedy eyes until he pushes me to the bed and leans over me. I don’t even put up a fight when he grabs my arms and pulls them above my head. Nope, I just soak up that body being so close to mine. When I feel a pinch to both my wrist I finally wake up from my fantasy and look up to where he releases my hands.

   Freaking handcuffs. He freaking handcuffed me to the headboard of the bed. I jerk my head back to him to find a smirk on his face. “That was a lot easier than I thought it would be. I’ll keep in mind that you are more compliant when I’m shirtless. Now, don’t you go anywhere,” he says with a wink.

   I start yanking at the handcuffs to try and break free. He just lets out a laugh and shuts the door. I keep tugging, hoping that the old metal headboard will give somewhere. I give up when my wrist start to hurt and turn red, then turn to internally kicking my ass.

  
What the hell, Sage? You seriously were so busy gawking at the man that kidnapped you, that you didn’t notice him handcuffing you?

   You saw that body. I mean shit, I think my freaking panties caught on fire when he took his shirt off.

   Who cares if he is freaking Apollo himself? He is the bad guy here. The one that is holding you for ransom. Get a grip and keep a level head.

   After spending an hour in the bathroom, the door opens and he walks through in some cloth pajama bottoms. No shirt,
again
. But this time, there is some moisture left on his skin from the shower. He picks up a glass and pours some of that God awful whiskey into it. Then he takes a seat in the chair against the wall and uses the other as a prop for his feet.

   I catch myself before I get too deep into devouring him with my eyes and try to roll over. Try being the key word. The handcuffs I am in aren’t like ordinary ones, there is no chain in the middle, more like they are hinged together like a door. With my hands above my head and no give, it is hard to do anything other than lay on my back. I roll just enough to get my head propped on my arm, but after a minute it hurts my neck and I go back to looking at the ceiling.

   Eventually, sleep begins to take over but before I fall completely under, I feel one of my hands release. “I can’t leave you completely free while I sleep, but you looked uncomfortable.”

   “Thank you,” I say. Before he walks away, I ask him again what his name is.

   “Why? What does it matter?”

   “
I think I deserve to know my kidnapper’s name,” I reply.

   “Lynkin. My name is Lynkin. Now get some sleep, Beauty.”

   Lynkin. Lynkin? I don’t know any Lynkins, but that rings a bell somehow. Before I can delve too deep into it, sleep overtakes me.