You're Mine, Maggie (7 page)

My cheeks burned and tears filled my eyes. That hobbit-looking son of a bitch was a lot stronger than he looked. He picked up the bowl of soup again and came toward me. I glared up at him through stubborn watery eyes.

He brought the soup-filled spoon to my lips. “Come on, dear. I know you’re hungry. You’ve been out cold for nearly ten hours. Eat.”

That long?

My stomach growled and he smiled. “See. Hungry. And I’ve brought delicious soup for you, my love. Open up for me.”

I let him feed me. When he went for a second spoonful I spat the soup at him. His face grew red and I thought for a moment that he was going to hit me again. Instead he splashed the entire steaming bowl of soup at me.

I screamed. It burned like a son of a bitch.

“I’m sorry to have to do that to you, but how else are you going to learn?” He pulled in a breath and straightened his spine. “Apologize to me.”

“What?” I sputtered, trying to shake the soup out of my eyes. “I’m not fucking apologizing to you, asshole. Let me go!”

“In that case, no food for you for the next twenty-four hours. Everything you need, you’re going to get from me, do you understand?” He patted his chest. “I’m in control. I decide what happens to you and when. You need me.” He reached out a tentative hand and stroked my face with his finger. I didn’t try to bite it off. “Remember that the next time I show you a kindness.”

He backed away from me toward the door, gathered the tray and left. He opened the door a second later and turned the light off. At least I couldn’t see the photo collage of me anymore.

I shook my head, squeezing my eyes. They burned from the soup and running mascara. Damn it.

“Daryl!” I waited a beat and then tried again. “Daryl! Help!”

He burst into the room and flipped on the lights. “What is it, sweetheart?”

“Could you wipe my eyes? They burn.”

He frowned. “I suppose that would be okay.” He plucked a couple of tissues from a box and wiped my eyes. “Better?”

“Yes. Thank you.”

He started for the door.

“I have to go to the bathroom.”

Panic flittered across his features. “Let me think about this a moment.”

“Could you think faster? I’m about to have an accident here.” I pressed my thighs together to prove it.

“Okay. Okay. I’ll be right back.” He left and then came back with a device that looked like it came from one of his video games. “I’m going to untie you. One false move and I’ll hit you with this.”

“Did you get that in your box of sugary cereal this morning? It’s cute.”

“No. It’s a Taser.”

“Ooohhh. I’m scared.”

I heard a
zap
and every muscle in my body burned like the worst leg cramp ever.

“Are you scared now?” Daryl asked.

No. I was fucking terrified.

All of a sudden the cramping let up and I could move again. This guy was racking up the shit-list points with me.

“The probes are still in your arm,” he informed me. “All I have to do is hit the trigger again and you go down. I’m going to untie you now.”

He worked on my feet, disconnecting them from the chair, but he left them tied together. “So you can’t run away,” he explained.

I rolled my eyes.

“Lean over,” he said. He then untied my left arm and retied it behind my back, securing it with rope around my waist. “Sit up.” He freed my right arm. “There.” He seemed really pleased with himself.

“I have to hop one-armed to the bathroom?”

“I’m going to roll you to the doorway. Then you’ll have to hop.”

I had to admit this guy was no dummy. I had about a foot and we won’t mention how many pounds on him. I could’ve easily overpowered him.

He wheeled me toward the bathroom and disconnected the Taser probes. “Don’t try anything,” he warned.

As if I would. At this point I really did have to go to the bathroom and was afraid one more shock would loosen my bladder. So I hopped into the bathroom and did my business. I was just coming out when I heard a loud crash from somewhere in the house.

Daryl grabbed my arm, shoved me into the chair and pushed me into the bathroom, closing and locking the door after us.

“What was—” Damn Daryl tased me again!

He shoved a handkerchief in my mouth and bound my free arm to the chair. “Be quiet,” he warned. “Or I’ll tase you again.”

Like I had a choice? Finally my muscles relaxed again. Every second with Daryl made me hate him more.

“Oh, no,” Daryl breathed.

“Maggie!”

Super Agent! I was rescued.

I tried to yell, struggling in my chair to make as much noise as possible. Fucking Daryl tased me
again
. Daryl’s wild gaze swung to the rattling door handle.

“I have a gun! I’ll shoot her!” Daryl yelled.

Finally in control of my body again, I worked at forcing the cloth out of my mouth. Eureka! “No, he ugh—” The bastard shocked me again! I was really getting sick of that.

Something hit the door, splintering it. Daryl backed away, tripped on the edge of the bathtub and tumbled in. The back of his head hit the tile with a sickening
thunk
.

Freed from the effects of the Taser, I started yelling my head off and didn’t stop until I saw Super Agent come through the door.

Chapter Thirteen

“How did you know where to find me?” I asked Super Agent while the paramedics did annoying things to me.

I was fine except for the fact that I smelled like chicken noodle soup and had mascara raccoon eyes. It was going to be nothing but waterproof mascara for me from now on.

We were outside of Daryl’s house, sitting in the back of an ambulance. Or at least I was. Super Agent leaned against the opening, watching me get poked and prodded. I’d tried to tell him that I was okay, but he wouldn’t listen to me. Finally the paramedics finished and declared me fit but recommended an overnight stay at the hospital to make sure. I declined before Super Agent could agree.

Super Agent picked a noodle out of my hair. “Your microphone was still transmitting. That was very clever of you to casually mention being in his childhood bedroom so we knew where to find you. We’d run out of leads.”

I’d totally forgotten about the microphone. “Yeah, I’m clever like that.”

“Scared twenty years off my life when you screamed and it cut out.”

“That would’ve been the hot soup.”

“And when he hit you…” I felt the look in his eyes deep in the pit of my stomach before he turned away and hid it from me.

I was in so much trouble with this man. Trouble in a good, scary way.

“How’d Daryl get me out of the store?” I asked to bring Super Agent’s attention back to me. I liked his attention way too much.

“The security cameras caught him wheeling you out on the office chair and right into the parking garage. We knew he’d taken you, but weren’t sure of where until you tipped us off.”

“Did you see what he had in the bedroom?”

“The photos? Yeah.”

“I can’t believe that I’ve known him for almost two years and had no idea what he was really like.”

“You never know what will set someone off. He has a history of mental illness, but nothing that would’ve given anyone a clue as to what he’d been planning to do.”

We both turned to watch another set of paramedics wheel Daryl out to a waiting ambulance. Daryl hadn’t regained consciousness since he’d hit his head. I tried to drum up some sympathy for him, but all I had was disgust. He’d killed Shasta and kidnapped me. Who knows how long he would’ve tried and what he would’ve done to make me love him. I shuddered at the thought.

“Hey.” Super Agent took my hand. “You’re okay.”

“Yeah, I’ll live to make better mistakes tomorrow.”

“This isn’t your fault, Maggie. None of this is on you. You believe that, don’t you?”

“Yeah, sure.” No. Not really.

“You knocked out another one. You’re getting really good at that, Knockout.”

“Not my fault. This one’s on you.”

“Can’t say I’m sorry.”

“Do you think he’ll make it?”

Super Agent shrugged. “I hope so. I’m looking forward to what will happen to him in prison.”

“You have a very attractive revenge streak in you. I like it. A lot.”

He crossed his arms across his very broad chest, tucking my hand against his heart, and grinned at me. “Oh, yeah? How
much
do you like me?”

Aww, crap. The microphone. He’d heard me tell Daryl that I loved him. Damn technology!

“That’s not on tape anywhere, is it? I mean, please tell me it’s not going to be used as evidence in Daryl’s trial for the whole world to hear.”

“Oh, yes. It’s recorded.”

Shit. I really did have the worst luck.

He leaned forward, brushing his lips across mine. “I love you too, Knockout.”

“No duh. I can’t think of any other reason why you’d stick around and put up with my crap. It’s either that or you’re a masochist.”

“Maybe it’s a little of both.”

“Maybe.” I grinned up at him. “And that’s why I love you.”

About the Author

Award-winning author Beth Yarnall writes mysteries, romantic suspense and the occasional hilarious blog post. A storyteller since her playground days, Beth remembers her friends asking her to make up stories of how the person “died” in the slumber-party game
Light as a Feather, Stiff as a Board
, so it’s little wonder she prefers writing stories in which people meet unfortunate ends. In middle school, she discovered romance novels, which inspired her to write a spoof of soap operas for the school’s newspaper. She hasn't stopped writing since.

For a number of years, Beth made her living as a hairstylist and makeup artist and at one time owned a salon. Somehow, hairstylists and salons always seem to find their way into her stories. Beth lives in Southern California with her husband, two sons and their rescue dog where she is hard at work on her next novel. For more information about Beth and her novels please visit her website:
www.bethyarnall.com
.

You can also visit with Beth on Facebook—
www.facebook.com/BethYarnallAuthor
and Twitter—
www.twitter.com/BethYarnall

Look for these titles by Beth Yarnall

Now Available:

The Misadventures of Maggie Mae

Wake Up Maggie

Coming Soon:

The Misadventures of Maggie Mae

Find Me Maggie

Oh, the hoops Maggie must jump through on the way to getting horizontal…

Find Me Maggie

© 2014 Beth Yarnall

A Maggie Mae Misadventure

Tonight is
the
night that Maggie Mae Castro and her boyfriend, FBI Special Agent Clive Poole, will finally have thoroughly thought-out, all-options-weighed, completely premeditated, totally intentional sex. There’s just one little problem. Maggie’s twin brother, Miguel, is missing and his girlfriend begs Maggie to find him.

Having seen Miguel’s rap sheet, Clive is sure this is just another stunt designed to get the con artist out of whatever trouble he’s gotten himself into. But as Maggie digs deeper, she discovers that Miguel swindled a very scary man out of a very large sum of money.

Maggie strikes a deal with the man Miguel conned—if she brings Miguel back, her brother lives, if the man’s henchmen get their hands on him first, all bets are off. The race is on across state lines. But the con has gone on too long, and even Maggie’s best finagling might not be enough to convince Miguel to give the money back—or keep the man from killing Miguel just to set an example.

Warning: Contains sex talk that might lead to something other than sex; a stubborn, sex-denied woman on the edge; a super-protective Super Agent; a pissed-off con who got conned; and a baby-talking baby mama. We’re talking about Maggie Mae Castro here—you never know what’s going to go down.

Making up, making out, and tracking a murderer…

Wake Up Maggie

© 2014 Beth Yarnall

A Maggie Mae Misadventure

Rearranging your cheating boyfriend’s family jewels isn’t a crime—unless your boyfriend is an Arizona state senator. And he happens to have a bullet in his chest.

Caught at the scene of the crime, Maggie Mae Castro is the only suspect, and the only one who saw the senator’s real killer—the skank ho he was cheating on her with.

FBI Special Agent Clive Poole has been shadowing the senator’s every move for nearly a year. He’s wanted Maggie from afar and knows she didn’t kill the senator, but with temptation close enough to touch, it’s now his job to protect her from danger.