Taken: Against My Will (6 page)

“Yes I called them,” she explained, “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking. But we have time. We can get out of here.” Tristen looked up at her and she saw the look in his eyes. They were filled with anger. It was as though the red fire of hell was burning behind his eyes.
 

“How can I trust you?” he demanded, “You’re just like her! All you do is think of yourself.” He slapped her hands away from him. Even without asking she knew who he was talking about. He was suggesting that she was like his step mother. The suggestion stung but she knew he was right. She had only been thinking of herself. She hadn’t been thinking of what would happen to him when the cops turned up. He might not even make it out of the apartment alive. Some of the cops she knew had a habit of shooting first and asking questions later when it came to criminals like him. As she thought about it she knew what she had to do.
 

                Racing toward the window, she grabbed hold of the ply wood and began to pull hard. Like it hadn’t before it didn’t budge. Her heart pounded as she moved backward a little and kicked out with her foot, slamming into the wood. When she left a small dent, she kicked out
again and managed to send the wood splintering away from her. She had made a hole that was just big enough for someone to climb out of.
 

                Even as she did so she knew she was too late. The sound of charging footsteps came from the corridor outside. Vicky raced for the kitchen and grabbed the gun off the worktop. Throwing it toward Tristen, she yelled, “Get out of here.” As though he didn’t need telling twice, Tristen gripped the gun tightly in his hand and began to scramble out of the window. Vicky watched him go with tears in her eyes. She stood shaking as she heard the crashing at the front door where her cop co-workers were trying to batter down the door. Tristen took one last look at her through the window and she saw her own emotions reflected on his face. Holding back the tears she gave a weak wave. Tristen looked as though he was forcing himself as he turned and began to climb down the ladder that was the fire escape.
 

                The front door burst open and Paul appeared in the doorway. He held a gun in front of him which he pointed around the room. Vicky threw her hands up quickly to show that he didn’t need to shoot her but his hands
instantly dropped when he realized who he was looking at. Other cops poured in around him as he moved toward her and demanded to know if she was alright. Another cop shouted toward her,
 

“Where is he?” Vicky could do nothing more than point at the window. The cop rushed to it and glanced down. When his head came back in he was shaking it from side to side.            

“He got away.” Vicky faked a disappointed expression but inside her stomach was doing summersaults. She couldn’t help feeling relieved that he’d escaped.

Chapter Eight
Vicky sat in the interrogation room looking at the mirror that was really a window. She clasped her hands in front of her on the table waiting for someone to finally coming and question her. She had been waiting for almost ten minutes and it was starting to get boring. She guessed they were trying to find someone who was willing to question a person they had known for her whole career.
              The door opened and Paul walked in. Vicky expected him to sit down in the chair opposite her but he simply walked to her left and leaned his back against the wall looking down at her. A woman came in after him. She was a tall, beefy looking woman in a grey suit that looked as though it was only just big enough for her. Her straw blonde hair was pinned back in a tight bun at the back of her head and her expression was strict. Vicky gulped as she looked at Kim. Out of all the cops in the station it had to be her. Kim was one of the very few people that Vicky hated. She was hot headed and did everything in her power to get things out of the people who Vicky would call her victims. She reminded Vicky of a snake. Her eyes pierced Vicky as she walked in, placed a report folder on the table and sat down in the chair opposite her.
“Well Vicky,” Kim smirked slyly, “I never thought I would have the pleasure of interrogating you.”
“Well you better enjoy it Kim because this will be the last time.” Vicky scowled at her with open hatred. She had no time for the woman. She didn’t agree with any of the woman’s morals or methods of getting her work done.     
               “Well if you’re so eager to get started then I guess we better had.” Kim laughed as she opened up the file in front of her and read a little before closing it again and looking back at Vicky, “It seems you were the head on this investigation.”
“That’s right.” Vicky replied with a nod.
“It’s a little odd that you end up in the apartment where you claimed Tristen was after being missing for two days yet when we searched the apartment we found a duffel bag filled with your clothes.”
“He knew I was close to catching him so he caught me first.” Vicky replied calmly. She kept her hands still on the table and stared Kim straight in the face. There was no way she was going to give this bitch anything.
“So you’re saying he kidnapped you?” Kim asked. She pulled a notepad from her pocket and began to write in it, “He must be one kind kidnapper to have packed an overnight bag for you.” Vicky shrugged her shoulders.
“Who am I to say what goes on in a criminal’s mind?” her heart pounded as she wondered how long she was going to have to sit through this. All she wanted to do was get out and go home.
               As she thought about going home she realized she couldn’t. Ian would be there. There was no way she was going to go back to him. This was her chance to get a clean break. She’d been gone for two days he wouldn’t expect her to return.
“Look are we done here? I was kidnapped, you found me and rescued me. There’s nothing more to it.” Vicky explained. Kim raised an eyebrow.
“I know your hiding something. Don’t think I can’t see right through you,” Kim assured her, “I will figure out what you’re hiding and when I do you will be sorry.” Ignoring her words Vicky turned to Paul.
“Am I free to go? I really could do with a rest after all the excitement.” She gave him a pleading look; one she knew he would not be able to resist.
“You’ve not been arrested,” Paul explained, “We have no reason to link you to any of this. You’re free to go home and get some rest. I’ve already spoken to boss. He told me to tell you to take a few days off and come back when you’re ready to work.” Kim scowled at Vicky as she stood up and headed toward the door.
“Well Kim I’d love to say this has been a pleasure but I would be lying.” Vicky laughed as she saw the angry expression on Kim’s face.
                With that she opened the door and walked out. Paul walked behind her down the corridor. Her spirits were just lifting when she saw someone turn the corner in front of her. It was another cop. He wasn’t the one who made Vicky’s heart sink. It was the man behind him. Ian looked up from his feet as he turned the corner and his eyes fell on Vicky. He scowled and walked quickly toward her.
“Vicky, what the hell is going on?” he demanded.
“I have nothing to say to you.” Vicky replied and she attempted to walk past him. He grabbed her by the elbow and pulled her back to face him. She looked down at his hand on her arm as Paul cleared his throat to show that he had seen everything.
“Vic, do you need a hand?” he asked from behind her. She looked over her shoulder and shook her head.
“Thanks Paul but I’m fine. Don’t you have a criminal to catch?” she forced a smile in his direction. Paul looked reluctant but after another nod from her, he gestured for the other cop to follow him.
“Let’s just go home.” Vicky told Ian. He instantly looked happier as though he thought that she actually wanted to go back with him.
               Her heart pounded and she felt hot with adrenaline fever as she followed him down the corridor and out of the station. They climbed into his black ford and before Vicky could even fasten her seat belt they were heading for home.
As soon as the apartment door shut behind them Vicky wished she had asked Paul to arrest Ian. Within moments she felt his fist hit the back of her head. She stumbled forward grabbing hold of the table where the bowl for their front door keys sat. The bowl slipped off the table and clattered to the floor. Vicky was relieved to see that it didn’t shatter. It was the one thing she had left of her mother’s.
            As she corrected herself she turned to look at Ian. “What the hell was that for?” she demanded.
“What the hell do you think you were doing running off like that?” he hissed at her as he raised his hand again. This time he back handed her across the face. Her cheek instantly grew red and began to swell. She felt the sting of his attack running through her face. She pressed her cold hand against her cheek, trying to ease the pain.
“I was kidnapped, I didn’t run away, you idiot.” Her ordeal had left her feeling a lot braver. In the few days she’d spent with Tristen she had realized that she was not a punching bag. He hadn’t abused her in the way Ian did. If you didn’t include the rape he had been very kind to her.
“How dare you talk to me like that?” Ian snarled as he reached forward and grabbed hold of her hair. Yanking her head back he slammed his fist into her stomach. The wind was knocked so hard from her that she gasped for air. She doubled forward as he released her hair and she tumbled to the floor.
“I won’t be your punching bag anymore.” Vicky vowed as she forced herself to her feet and squared her shoulders ready to face him. This time when his fist came toward her face she grabbed hold of it and her other hand came forward with a fist of her own. Her knuckles connected to his nose and she heard a loud crack. Ian stumbled backward with a loud caterwaul of pain.
“You bitch!” he shouted as he pressed his hands to his face, “You broke my nose.” blood oozed between his fingers. When he lowered his hands blood was streaming out of his nose, down his face and off his chin onto his tie.
“I’ll show you what you get for fighting back.” he laughed suddenly as he reached for the buckle of his belt. Vicky felt panic rising inside her. She raised for the bedroom door but didn’t reach it in time. He grabbed the back of her shirt and swung her toward the sofa. As she collapsed down onto it he brought the belt down like a whip across her back. She squealed in pure pain as the belt lashed her again and again. It tore her blouse and cut deep into her skin. Blood bubbled from the wounds as again and again more opened up. All she could do was cover her face and attempt to crawl away. She reached out one hand and it connected with the cushion that sat on the sofa. She attempted to place it over her back but he reached forward and grabbed it from her. He stopped whipping her and reached forward. Vicky’s panic increased as she felt the belt wrap around her neck. As she grabbed at the belt trying to pull it away from her throat, she could feel him moving behind her. The panic had set in now. She was panting and breathless as he reached down and unzipped her trousers. She knew what was coming. She was about to become like Tristen’s victims, but worse. The only difference was Tristen would never have beaten his victims to the point of death. He would have caressed their skin and given them the same pleasure he had shown her. Tristen might have hurt his victims physically, but that wasn’t his intent. Ian would be brutal and leave her bleeding when he’d finished with her.
           Vicky couldn’t stand the thought. Heart pounding, she reached out again. This time she could see her target. She grabbed hold of the metal ash tray that sat on the coffee table. Reaching behind her she connected the tray with Ian’s temple. He stumbled backward giving her enough time to grab hold of the apartment phone. With shaky fingers she stabbed in the number for emergency services as her feet stumbled toward the bedroom. Ian was on her heels but this time she was fast enough. She slammed the door on his fingers just as he reached the doorway. He yelped in pain and pulled his hand back out of the jam giving Vicky enough time to push it closed and lock it. Ian began to pound like a bear on the door.
               Vicky pressed her ear to the phone and listened for the voice on the other end.
“Emergency services, what is your emergency.”
“Please help me. My husband is trying to kill me.” The words tumbled from Vicky’s lips and she gasped as the door was slammed hard against her back. The phone fell from her hand as Ian slammed his way into the bedroom. Vicky found herself weeping as she scrambled away from the door. He grabbed hold of her ankles and pulled her across the floor. Carpet burns stung Vicky’s elbows as she attempted to pull herself away. She kicked out with both feet managing to connect one with his already broken nose. This delayed him but only for a moment. He pressed one hand against his nose reaching out with the other.     
“You’re just making things worse for yourself.” He laughed as he grabbed hold of what was left of the back of her top. Her back stung as he pulled her to her feet and spun her around to face him. His long fingers wrapped around her throat and he pulled her face close to his. As he breathed on her she recognized the stench of booze all over him. The smell made her nauseous and she struggled not to vomit all over him. She was feeling dizzy and weak with pain. Her eyes flickered and she struggled to hold on to consciousness.
            She knew it was all over as the back of his hand came down across her face again and everything went black.
Vicky’s head sung with pain as she blinked open her eyes. The light was too bright and it scorched her eyes. Closing them to slits, she glanced around her. She was surrounded by four white walls. The forth had large glass windows that looked out onto a corridor beyond. Vicky instantly knew where she was as she looked down at her hand where an IV drip had been implanted in her vein. She sighed with relief only to yelp in pain as the breath made her ribs hurt. Every part of her felt swollen. She was lying on her front and as she attempted to move she knew why. She quickly recoiled from moving as her back stung. The wet compresses that covered the whip wounds on her back moved a little and pulled at the open wounds.
            “You’re awake.” A familiar voice spoke from across the room. She turned her eyes and could just see Paul stood looking at her. in his hands he held a bright vase of flowers which he placed on the table beside her bed as he moved forward to sit in the chair at her bedside, “How are you feeling?” he asked as he turned to look at her.
“Like death.” Was all she could say as she tried not to move.
“What happened, Vicky? Did Tristen come back?” he asked. His voice was full of sympathy and she could feel him gawking at the wounds on her back as though they were about to jump off her and bite him. Vicky attempted to shake her head but quickly stopped herself as pain shot down her spine.
“Don’t try to move.” Paul told her as he gently touched her shoulder, “You need to rest.”
“You’re right Mr. Kilmartin. She should be resting and I should be asking you what you’re doing in here?” Although Vicky couldn’t see her she recognized the voice of Paul’s wife. She was a nurse at the hospital and had clearly jumped at the opportunity to care for one of her husband’s friends. She walked into Vicky’s view and asked,
“How are you feeling, Vicky?”
“I’ve felt better. Do you have anything a little stronger for the pain?” Vicky asked, trying to laugh a little. Joan shook her head and began to apologize,
“I’m sorry. We pumped you full an hour again. We can’t give you anything else for another hour.” Vicky sighed and closed her eyes against the light.
“Paul, I have to ask you to leave. Vicky won’t heal if you sit here questioning her. She needs peace and quiet,” Joan explained as she took hold of her husband’s arm and hoisted him up out of the chair, “Get going.”             
“Ok, ok, I’m going.” Paul put up his hands pretending to surrender as he turned toward Joan. He planted a kiss on her lips before adding, “I’ll see you at home. You make sure you look after my girl.” He pointed at Vicky.
“I will. Now go.” Joan repeated. Paul nodded quickly and swept himself from the room like a scolded child.
I had been a week and Vicky was finally allowed to move from her bed. Her wounds were still sore but they had almost completely sealed over. Every time she moved she was terrified of opening them up again. She was exhausted. Every time she closed her eyes or tried to sleep all she could feel was the belt around her throat and the pain as it had been lashed across her back. If it was just a nightmare she may have been able to handle it. The fact that it had really happened made the nightmares all the worse and before long she was forcing herself not to sleep.