Текст книги "Meet Me in the Dark"

Автор книги: J. A. Huss

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Текущая страница: 7 (всего у книги 18 страниц)

“Always know when to give in.”

– Sydney

I come to hog-tied. Hands and feet bound together. Some kind of tape over my mouth. He’s got me positioned in front of him on the other snow machine, and the wind and snow is whipping against my face.

I struggle enough to make him swerve and angry at the same time. He stops the machine and grabs my shoulders, pulling my face in close to his.

Breathing is difficult. For the life of me, I cannot get enough air into my lungs, but I’m trying my best. I wheeze with each intake, the tape against my mouth giving way just the slightest bit as I try to gulp oxygen. It’s a trick though. Everything is always a trick. Because whatever slight bit of air getting through is just enough to suck the tape against my mouth even more when I try to inhale.

“Look,” Case says in my ear. “If I don’t get us home, we’re gonna freeze to death. You get that?” He pulls my hair, yanking my head back. “You drugged me. I’m half asleep right now so our chances are not looking good. And now I’m stopped, trying to keep your bitch ass from making me ram this four-hundred-and-fifty-pound machine into a goddamned tree. So how do you want this to go? Freeze to death? Crash first and then freeze to death? Or make it home in one piece, alive?”

I can only suck on my tape in response, but that must be all he’s looking for, because he straightens out my body a little, and then we lurch forward.

He weaves in the tracks we made coming out this way, not on course at all. And this is when the panic hits home. He really could crash. Or fall asleep. And we really will freeze to death out here.

My eyes close, looking for a way to escape my terror. I hold very still as we start and stop. His coordination is getting worse by the second. And after what seems like hours, we pull up to the cabin. He stands up, hauls me up over his shoulder, then drops to his knees in the snow, spilling me face first as he does it. The snow blocks my nostrils, making me panic and wiggle. Noise is coming out of my mouth, but the screams for help are mistaken for resistance. And so he handles it. The hard whack against my head makes the whole world spin and while that is happening, he gets back on his feet and drags me by the arms, my body finally limp.

I am pulled inside and left near the kitchen table as he falls to his knees beside me.

Oh, God. If he dies, I will be left here in the middle of nowhere, tied up and helpless.

I start shivering uncontrollably. My teeth want to chatter very badly, but the damn gag stops them. My body convulses to make up for it.

Case turns his head so I can see his face. His eyes are very heavy, like he’s about to pass out. But he reaches for my arm and slides me over next to him, embracing me with his body heat. I tip my chin up and find we are face to face. Very close together. He reaches up and pulls on the tape over my mouth. It takes him several tries to get a good grip, and then he rips it off.

I sob after that. It’s all too much.

“Look at me, Sydney.”

How he can be so commanding when he’s about to fall unconscious, I have no idea. I look at him. He’s my whole world right now. This cold, heartless killing machine who has no aversion to violence against women. He’s all I have. So I look up at him.

He’s barely there. His eyes are tiny slits, his mouth going slack from the drugs. But then he opens his lids once more and says, “If we’re going down, we’re going down together.” And then he has another syringe in his hand. He stabs me in the arm. The needle goes through the coat and pierces my skin. I watch the burning anger in his eyes as he presses the plunger.

I just watch helplessly as his eyes close, his grip on me weakens, and his breathing becomes heavy.

I try to push him off me, but he’s too big.

It’s cold in here. The fire is very low. With no one to feed it, it will probably go out before he wakes up. And when he does wake up, he’s gonna kill me anyway.

So I stop struggling and just enjoy the warmth from his body instead. Thankful I have clothes on. Thankful I’m not outside. Thankful he’s asleep. For now.

My eyes get heavier and heavier as the minutes tick off, and just as I’m about to close them and give in, he whispers, “You know why I hate you, Syd?”

I force myself to wake a little. Make my lids open.

His eyes are open too. Just barely.

“Why?” I slur back.

“Because you love him.”

I know he’s talking about Garrett, but why does he care?

“And it kills me.” His eyes close, flutter, and then open again. “It kills me that you fall for it. You’re in the dark about everything. Why can’t you fucking see it? Why can’t you see through it?”

“Maybe I don’t want to.”

I wait for another response, but it never comes. He’s out.

“Or maybe you’re the one in the dark and not me.”

“Pick and choose your battles, Syd.”

I look up at Garrett and smile. “I always do.”

“No,” he laughs. “You’ve got a little too much fight in you.”

I shake my head and cast out my fishing line. “How do you figure that?”

“You want to stay when you should go. You want to go when you should stay. You want to fight when you should yield and yield when you should fight. You’ve got it all backwards, Syd.”

I draw in a breath of fresh mountain air. “Says you.”

He chuckles with me. “When someone has the upper hand, you let them keep it.”

I give him a sideways glance. “That sounds a lot like giving up.”

“Nope,” he says, reeling in his line. I wait for him to check the bait—gone—and then change to a lure before casting out again. He looks over at me then, his eyes gold in the sun, his body tanned and muscular. He’s shirtless, because it’s very warm today. “It’s not giving up, Syd. It’s strategy. You gotta let them think they’re winning when they get the upper hand. But you never stop fighting. Even if it’s only on the inside.”

I wake up blind. My bindings are gone, my clothes are gone, my body is freezing. I crawl over to the fireplace but when I touch the metal, there’s no warmth.

He died.

“Don’t be stupid,” I say out loud. He drugged me again, untied me, took off my clothes, and dumped me into this room.

Why didn’t he light a fire? He must be cold.

But I can already hear water running. For half a second this makes my heart stop. He’s coming with the hose!

But then I realize that’s not what’s happening. He’s in the shower, I bet. Basking underneath hot water.

I tremble, cold. And I hate him. I hate that man so bad. Why is he doing this to me? Why?

“You are stupid,” Case says off to my left.

I sit up and look around in the dark.

“I mean…” He laughs a little. He sounds like he’s sitting down on the floor only a few feet away. “If it had worked it might’ve been a great plan. But I told you that machine had no gas. It’s twenty below outside and snowing. And that house you thought was your salvation? Is empty.”

“You’re lying.”

“Really? Which part of that is unbelievable?”

“I think there’s people in that house. I saw lights.”

“There’s no light out there, Sydney. It’s winter in Montana. People who own big log cabin homes like that don’t come here for the winter, cowgirl. You know better. You were cold and delirious from too many drugs. There was no light on in that house. You saw the moon reflecting off the windows, that’s all.”

Montana. But he’s right. Rich people who buy big homes out here come for the summers. For fishing, and hunting, and rafting. All things you don’t generally do in January.

“I know you dream about him. So that’s where this is gonna start.”

A chill runs up my spine and manifests as the hair at the nape of my neck standing on end.

“Oh,” Case says, getting to his feet with a shuffle. “You didn’t think this was over, did you?”

He pulls me to my feet by my hair and then half drags me, half walks me, over to the door. When he opens it, the light blinds me for a moment and I have to close my eyes. He doesn’t stop, just pulls me along a hallway until we get to the bathroom where warm steam rushes out in a mist. I inhale, enjoying every bit of warmth, and when I crack open my eyes, taking care not to look up into the light, I see the feet of an old white cast-iron tub.

I force myself to look up now. Right at his face.

“You smell,” he says, reading my mind. “You shit yourself. Which is why I took off your clothes.”

I look away, embarrassed, of all things. I shake my head a little to make that go away. Of all the things I should be ashamed of, shitting myself isn’t even in the top one hundred.

“And you’re covered in blood. I’m sick of looking at you like this. So wash. And be quick because you don’t deserve it.”

“Then why not hose me down?” I cringe as soon as the words come out. Shut up, Syd!

“I’m a little bit tired,” he says, ignoring my sarcasm. “And holding a hose filled with freezing water isn’t on my list of things to do right now. You have two minutes. And if you don’t get yourself clean in that time, I will get the hose.”

I take a deep breath and step towards the tub, then look over my shoulder to see if he will leave me alone.

“In your dreams.”

I step in and lower myself down into the hot water. It stings bad, since my body is so cold. But it feels way too good to stop, so I sink all the way in and allow a sigh to escape.

I lie back and dunk my hair, closing my eyes to fully become submerged. The outside goes away for a moment, making things seem peaceful. But then his grip on my upper arm pulls me back up.

He squirts some shampoo onto my head, a thin, cold stream that makes me look up at his intentions. But all he says is, “Wash.”

I do wash. I scrub my hair good. Hell, if he wants me clean, I can get on board with that. When my hair is all lathered, he reaches over to the counter for a bowl, and then scoops up water and pours it down my head to wash out the soap.

I look up again. Because I’m just not getting it. But he simply points to a white bar of soap in a dish built into the cabin wall.

I take the hint and wash my body, certain that more than two minutes have passed. But he doesn’t rush me, or even speak again. He just waits until I’m all soaped up and then pours the water over me. Down one shoulder, then the other. Several times, actually. And I’m just starting to relax when he leans over and pulls the plug. The water starts rushing out with that sucking noise that tubs make when they drain. He stands before me, his arms open with a waiting towel.

When I step out, he looks my whole body up and down. I look him up and down as well. He’s got a bruise on his arm where I stabbed him with the syringes.

I look down at my own arms and find the same marks. Another on my thigh. Then the other thigh.

When I look back up he cracks a smile. “I got more where that came from. But let’s try to move forward. I’m not getting anywhere with the drugs, and to be quite honest, I’m on a schedule.”

I furrow my eyebrows. “For killing me?” I ask in a whisper.

He ignores my words. Just wraps me up in the towel and flips the light off as he walks out.

“Follow me,” he calls over his shoulder.

And what choice do I have?

So I do. I follow him down the hallway and meet him in the dark.

“I walk that line between monster and savior, and I use it against them.”

– Case

She steps back into the room that has become her prison, only this time she does it of her own accord.

I need to adjust. Because so far, nothing is working on this girl and I need answers. Time is running out. When this all started I thought the whole thing would be over in two, three days, tops. But we’re on day twelve now. Day twelve.

I take her hand and this must frighten her because she pulls back instinctively, but my squeeze reassures her. She’s warm now. And clean. And calm. So my squeeze is a reassurance that she is still going to be all those things if she gives in. I lead her across the dark room until I get to the far wall, and then I place my hands on her shoulders and push her until she bumps into it with her back.

“What—”

I put my fingers to her lips. “Hush.”

She starts breathing hard and I swear to God, I can almost hear her heartbeat. But I don’t say it again. I don’t want whatever it is that Garrett turned her into. I just want Syd right now.

I wrap my fingers around both her tiny wrists and bring her arms above her head. “Grab hold, Sydney.” She reaches until she finds the chains hanging from the ceiling and they clink a little as she grips them.

I smooth her wet hair down. “Good girl.”

She whimpers.

I lean down to her ear and say, “Shhh. Be still. I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Let me go. Please.”

I know she’s looking up at me with those eyes and I have a sudden urge to see them. “If you can behave, I will go open the fireplace. Do you want a little heat, Sydney? A little bit of light?”

“No,” she says back. “I like the dark.”

Shit. That one hush was all she needed. Up until now, it’s been three times to get compliance. But when I need her to resist, she gives in. Fucking figures. “We’ve been in the dark long enough. Let’s meet up in the light.”

She starts to say no again, but I interrupt her with another, “Hush.”

Her shoulders relax a little as she continues to cling to the chains. I wonder what word Garrett uses to bring her out of it? It would be nice to have that.

“Stay here. Just like you are. I’ll be right back.”

I leave her there, walk out of the room, down the hall a few paces, and then stop to listen.

Nothing. She stayed.

OK, Merc. Let’s figure this shit out. I go back out to the living room and throw a few logs onto the dying fire, then press the button that will lift the steel plate on the other side of the wall.

Her feet come into view first, then her legs. I can’t see anything else unless I get on my knees. So I just grab the rug in front of the couch and take it back into the room and drop it down on the ground in front of the fire.

“Case?”

I turn to look at her. The shadows from the flames are dancing up her body, licking them in places I’d like to lick myself. “Yeah?” Is she back? How did she come back?

“Why did you leave me there? Was it because you thought I wasn’t worth saving?”

I walk forward a few paces and stop about four feet in front of her. “What?”

“He said you’d save me. That I shouldn’t worry. Because you’d save me.”

“Who?”

“My father. He said he told you to save me and so no matter what happened, you’d get me out because I was the job. Was I not worth it? Didn’t he pay you enough? You punched me in the face. I was waiting—” She starts to cry and I take a step back. “I was waiting for you. I saw you and that other guy moving in the bushes, and I was waiting. Garrett came in and then—” She lets her chin fall to her chest.

“You knew I was coming?”

She nods, but doesn’t look up. “I think I know why.” She does look up after this, and I wish she hadn’t. She’s got more hurt in that one look than any living creature I’ve ever seen. And I’ve tortured my share of people over the years. Killed too many to count. I’ve seen fear before.

This is not fear.

This is sadness.

“I think it’s because he lied, didn’t he?” She swallows hard, like she’s steeling herself to admit something she’d rather not. “He lied to me. He never sent you to save me. You were always there to kill me, weren’t you?” I shake my head. But she doesn’t see it, or she ignores me, or whatever. “They always wanted to get rid of me.”

“Who?” I take the two steps that separate us and cup her face in my hand. “Who, Sydney?” She might have the answers after all. She might give them up without having to go through with this stupid plan.

“Those people.”

My hope dies a little. “What people?”

“Those people my father has running his PR. They found out about me two years before all this happened. I was living with my mom out in a small town, just east of Cheyenne. And they found out about me.”

“Oh,” I say, for lack of anything else to say to that. Those people. I took care of them years ago. Plus, she doesn’t even have a name for them. PR people is not what I’d call them. But if you’re a kid, you’d probably assume your father was on the up and up instead of a malicious child-killer. So I can’t blame her for that. “No, Syd. He did tell me to come save you. He didn’t lie about that.”

Her face crumples a little, like I just delivered bad news. “OK.”

Something is happening here, but I’m not quite sure I know what it is. But I am damn sure I need to move this shit forward. I had a spark of hope for a second there that she might tell on her own. Admit to lying, and tell me where I can find Garrett. Cop out to seeing him all these years. Cop out to being in on the plan.

But I think she’s telling the truth. And that’s so much worse for her than if she had been lying. Because I think she’s gone. I think she’s fucked up beyond all repair. FUBAR, we call it in the army. Sydney Channing has been a big surprise from beginning to end. But never in a million years did I see this coming.

“Syd,” I say, getting ready to explain what’s gonna happen now.

“Why do you call me that?” she interrupts. “No one calls me that. I hate it.”

I think back. Is that true? Didn’t Garrett call her that? Never mind. I wave a hand in front of me, trying to clear the air.

I place my hand on her head again. Smoothing her hair. It’s starting to dry and it will be just as FUBAR as her once it does.

Get a grip, Merc. This bitch is over as soon as you get her to talk.

Right.

I drop my hand to her throat and flatten my palm against her throbbing artery. She’s not tied—not her hands and not her feet—so I expect her to fight a little. But she doesn’t, once again showing me that she is unreliable as far as reactions go. I even squeeze it a little, just to test this theory out. Again, no reaction until a few seconds pass and she begins to choke.

I ease off and press my body against hers. My chest is bare, so we are skin to skin. She is warm and so am I. Together we heat everything up. I lean into her ear and give her a kiss. She shudders, but her hands remain grasping onto the chains, just like I told her to.

“Did he tell you you were pretty?” I don’t know why I ask that, but I feel the need to know.

“No,” she says. “He told me I was expendable.”

“Channing said that?” I just can’t see it, to be honest. I mean, yeah, the girl was illegitimate and that’s a pretty big deal in his world. But… expendable? He hired me to save her ass. So maybe he was setting all of us up? I dunno. I never pegged him as a Sydney hater. Sure, the kid was inconvenient, but why raise her up to age sixteen and then—

“Garrett,” she clarifies.

“Oh.” Jesus fucking Christ, Merc. Back on track!

I trace a finger down each side of her body, feeling her ribs. They are prominent when she’s got her hands above her head like this. And she might be ticklish, because it makes her squirm. I adjust my position and then cup her breasts. It makes me feel dirty for some reason. This whole thing makes me feel dirty. I’m tired of playing with her. But I have to know.

She moans a little and this gives me what I need to continue. “Do you know what the hard fuck is, Syd?”

“I’m a virgin.”

I laugh. Like hard. It startles her and she drops her hands and covers herself. It startles me too, because I actually take a step back instead of correcting her.

“Please, I’m a virgin.”

“You cannot be serious.” My tone has changed. It’s harsh. And this makes her reach up and grab the chains again to try to placate me. “Why are you lying? I already fucked you in the ass once. I’ve seen him fuck you dozens of times.”

She doesn’t react. Not to any of that. Not to the fact that I fucked her or the fact that I watched Garrett fuck her.

“That bullshit might’ve worked on Brett—” I stop talking and stare at her. “That’s why you never let Brett fuck you?”

She lifts her head and her eyes, but only for a moment. Only to nod.

She’s telling the truth. Well, no, she’s lying her ass off. But she thinks she’s telling the truth.

I step forward again and reach down to find her pussy. When I hit her clit with the tip of my thumb, she moans. I insert one finger and she thrusts her hips to force me to go deeper. “Let me ask you this question again, Sydney.” I grab her hair with my other hand and yank her head back so she has to look at me. “Do you know what the hard fuck is?”

“No,” she says, emotionless.

I lean into her ear and whisper, “You’re about to find out.” She just stares straight ahead. “Do you understand me?”

“Yes,” she says, still no emotion.

“That yes is permission.”

I wait to see if she will object, and in truth, a part of me wants her to. I want her to knee me in the balls. Scratch my eyes out. Spit in my face. I want her to fight.

Because if she did all those things, I might stop. It might be enough to stop me.

But again, she’s compliant when I want resistance.

And then she takes it one step further. She covers the distance between us with a kiss.

My hand leaves her hair and I find her throat again. Because we’re on. “Let me explain what the hard fuck is, Sydney. OK?” I growl it into her mouth, because she’s still kissing me. “It means I will push you beyond all your limits. I will make you cry tears and writhe in pain and pleasure at the same time. I’m gonna make that fuck so hard you’ll weep. But you will beg me to keep going. I will make your body sore, your muscles shudder, and your mind exhausted. I’m gonna take you, Sydney Channing. I’m gonna take you and once I do, I’m never gonna give you back.”

“Take me,” she whispers back. Her warm breath intertwines with mine, making us intimate for a moment.

But only for a moment. Because I push her to her knees, fist her hair, and drag her face towards my cock.