Snatched (9 page)

She definitely had to get away
from here
.
From him.

He discarded the trash in a bin next to the bed. Still the smell lingered. Mixed with the smell of the jacket. She wouldn't forget these smells anytime soon…if she managed to get out of this mess alive.

"So what do we do now?" she asked. The sun wasn't due to set for hours. The thought of just sitting there was maddening.
If he didn't kill her, she'd die of boredom.

He sat back down, this time with his back to the headrest. He leaned back, pulled his legs up on the bed, let them stretch out over the bottom of the bed. He was much taller than its length.

"Sorry I couldn't provide you better accommodations. I wasn't expecting any guests tonight. Since I don't have the bare necessities like a TV, we might as well talk."

"I don't want to talk."

"
That's u
p to you
. But I've found that time goes a lot faster when you
're not just sitting around."

"So you've found that talking keeps your hostages happy?" She just couldn't seem to stop her tongue.

He chuckled softly. "You've got
some
lips on you. And you'll be honored to know that you're my first hostage."

"I feel so privileged."

"As well you should. I can be an engaging kidnapper when I want to be."

"So what's going to happen in two days that's going to allow you to release me
?
"

He
was
quiet
for a few seconds before he finally answered.

"There's something that's got to go down first. Then all of this will come to an end. Just trust me."

"You're asking a whole lot of me."

"Yes, I know. And don't think I don't know how scared you are. I would be too in your position. To be honest, I'm scared for you, too."

"Well, that's very nice of you since it's you who's keeping me here now."

"I've told you why it's necessary. Don't relish dying."

She sat quietly for a minute. The thought of death – anyone's death, especially hers – was too disturbing to contemplate.

Curiosity began to nag h
er. "How did you become a gang memb
er? I mean how did you join up with those hoodlums? They're so horrible. And you're…"

"I'm what?" He was looking at her again. And her stomach was doing that fluttering thing again, too.

She looked away from his eyes.

"You just seem to have more decency than them. You don't belong with them." She meant this last part.

"Is this you trying to save my soul?
Turn me onto the right path?
"

"I'm not trying to save anything. I was just stating what I thought was a fact. I'm not so sure now."

"Oh, so you're taking back the compliment."

"
Oh fuck it
. You're twisting everything I
s
ay
."

"You're right.
S
orry
about that
.
It's just something I do.
So Nailah, what are you
when you're not being my hostage?
"

"
Why do you need my
bio
?
The less you know about me the better."

"OK, no personal facts then. Let's talk about the wea
ther. Or sports. How about those Packers?"

Silence.

"What, not a Packers fan?
OK t
hen let's talk about favorite pets. I had a bird once
when I was about twelve. A parakeet. Had it for a full week
…before my cat ate it.
I still miss
that bird."

She didn't know why the tears started. Maybe the stress had finally gotten to her. It was just that normal talk made her realize how abnormal everything was now.

He stopped,
rose from his lounging position, walked over to her.

She stiffened as he placed a hand on either of her arms.

"Look, it
is
going to be OK. There's a lot going on, stuff that I can't tell you. And it's just bad luck that you got pulled into it."

A finger brushed
at a
tear. The finger was callused but the touch was surprisingly comforting. She felt at that moment that he was telling the truth.

But she still had to escape. One man couldn't outgun a whole gang. And if he took her back to them she would die. Or face something much worse.
The memory of the simulated rape was horrible. The thought of a real gang bang was unfathomable. She'd rather die.

Ingenuity took over. Playing the soft damsel in distress could work for her.

"I hate the idea of being locked up. Even for just a few hours. Do you really have to handcuff me tonight?"

He straightened up, looked at her suspiciously.

"If I was going to run away, I would have already tried to. It's just that I miss my family. My mother's sick. And I do have a pet…a cat. And she's probably starving now. And now I have to deal with all of this. Please, do you really have to treat me like a hostage?"

He was quiet as he walked back to the bed and resumed his position.

He didn't outright deny her request. Which meant she still had a chance.

She would just have to wait it out to see what he would do.

Sunset brought with it a whole set of problems
to add to his already complicated life
.
Right now
Eric
–
aka Dele
– w
as
at war
with all of his senses.
Common
sense told him to
handcuff her for the night
.
Yet
a
contradictory
sense of humanity
made it hard for him to
refuse
her
plea
since
he was the one who had disrupted her life
in the first place
.
And his
ever-present
sense of danger
that constantly nagged at him
told him he couldn't possibly get both of them out of this situation.

And then there were
his
other senses
that were equally disturbing
.

In the quiet hours following their
earlier attempt at
conversation, he'd contemplated the idea of lying next to her
for a whole night.
Not that the thought didn't have an edge of pleasure
. She was very attractive.
B
ut he needed all of his faculties
, especially in these next few days
. Any distractions could prove deadly
for either of them
.

She
was slumped
in the chair,
her eyes half closed, her whole body
looking considerably uncomfortable.
About an hour ago, h
e'd turned on the lamp on the night stand. The harsh light
cast
the room
with
a sickly pallor, showcasing
all of its hard
dinginess.
He was used to living
in these types of environs
.
Being
undercover
for a long stint basically
ripped away those small privileges one got used to: being able to wash when
ever
you wanted, to relax in clean clothes on
comfortable
furniture.
And t
o not have to
look
over your shoulder all the time.

He imagine
d
the creature comforts she was
missing
right about now
.
Maybe back
at her house or apartment
she
would
be sipping a glass of wine, probably sitting on a terrace or veranda where she
c
ould enjoy the evening breeze.
In this mental tableau, h
e ima
gined her in something silkier and revealing, not the
casual
shirt and jeans she wore now
. At least she struck him as a woman who appreciated the finer things. Those women were few in his life right now.

The least he could do was make her stay
here
as comfortable as possible.
Especially after what he'd made her do back at the house.

More
importantly,
he wanted
to make her comfortable in these hours
b
ecause if things didn't work the way he needed them to, these might be her last hours on this earth.

He rose, walked to her
chair
and lightly touched her shoulder. She jerked fully awake. In those seconds of
arousal
he saw her expression morph from
initial
lethargy
to
momentary
confusion to
burgeoning
fear
with the awareness of her surroundings. These all morphed to an ultimate
resignation
as memory set in
. She had awakened to a reality that she'd probably hoped was the stuff of
a temporary
nightmare.

She looked up at him, fully awake.
And f
ully resentful.

"
Time for bed. And we don't have to be cuffed. But you have to promise me you won't try anything. For both our sakes.
"

She simply nodded her acquiescence then rose and let him lead her to the bed.

###

The night was stifling and
oppressive. As was the arm that lay across her stomach. Heavy in its lifelessness,
it was
now
he
r
only barrier to freedom.
Although s
he
couldn't see his face in the darkened room
,
she
knew by
the
deep
, r
egular breaths that he was
asleep
.
Or at least she hoped he was.
She'd waited for what seemed like an eternity for him to finally drop off
after they'd
settled on
the bed
. Thankfully, he'd kept on
his clothes; the thought of him without clothes
was disturbing on
several
levels.

She shifted
her weight on the bed
, waited for
a response
.
Waited to see if he was
only
pretending.
But there was nothing.
N
o
shifting nor change in the breaths that were softly audible
.
She began shimmying to her edge of the bed
, at the same time nudging away the burdensome arm
. If he was
truly
faking, now would be the
moment
his hand
would
shoot out to grab her back.
Instead it settled on the bed
space as she moved away from him. Soon she was on her feet, looking down onto his dark silhouette.
She
stood there a few seconds longer until she'd reassured herself that he was not awake.

She
felt for her
sneakers
on the floor
near the bed, gingerly
slipped
them
.
Since he'd taken the side nearer
to
the door, she had to circumvent the full
width of it as she tiptoed in the dark
.

Standing a
t the door
she realized she'd forgotten
to grab
his
jacket. It had been discarded on the bottom edge of the bed.
As much as she wanted to cover up her ripped top, s
he couldn't risk
going back
.
M
odesty
could very well
cost her
her
freedom
. 
F
eeling out the
door
locks in the dark
was particularly difficult
; harder still
was
sliding one then turning the other
as quietly as she could
. Desperation made her want to rush. It also made her
desperately
careful.
She was too near to her goal
now
.