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Maria
The first thing that I notice is that I’m cold. Too cold. Like, not freezing, but colder than I should be. I’ve got a headache, too, and I’m groggy. What the hell happened to me?
I go over what I can remember last in my mind. Last I can recall, I’d had a fight with Dad, and I’d stormed out. He’d deserved that, after all. He usually did deserve it. It wasn’t the first time I’d stormed out. But I’d gone further away than I usually did. And... let’s see...
I pulled into the truck stop off of Route 16, got myself a soda and a candy bar, and saw... that guy... Carmen’s ex, the one I’d met that time they were sneaking around the house... and then I’d felt a thump at the back of my head, and...
I come to as I try to move my arms to my sides. I’m sore – annoyingly sore. My left arm has pins and needles in it, and my right arm feels weird. There’s something metallic restraining me. I squirm a little bit to see, but I can’t turn around. Handcuffs. Has to be.
Then I look down and am almost amused to see my breasts beneath me. What in the hell? I begin to realize that I’m lying there, handcuffed and completely naked.
I scan the room that I’m in. There’s not much to it. There are four walls, a door, and the bed I’m strapped to. That’s it. The walls aren’t even painted; they’re the same dull grayish-white as an unused jail cell. It’s pretty pathetic. I know from experience that it’s got to be a guy’s basement. How? Well, for starters, a woman would have painted it, and second, there are no windows, indicating that we’re below ground.
“Hello?” I ask with caution. Then, when I get no response, I try again, a little bit louder, “Hello? Is anyone there?” Still getting no response, I start to freak out a little bit. “Help!” I call out in what I know is probably a futile effort but seems worth a try anyway. “Help me! I’m trapped down here! Hello? Hello?!”
No one comes to my aid. No one even seems interested in the fact that I’m there. My mind begins racing, and tears are welling in my eyes. I’m irritated with myself – this is no time to cry. But I’m sitting here, naked, alone, and afraid. I’m not sure what else I can do. I start fidgeting with the handcuffs as best I can, but that’s of no use.
That’s when I start to wonder who took me. Who would’ve done something like this? Dad has plenty of enemies, but which of them would be so bold as to kidnap me? It has to be the Blood Ravens, that motorcycle club from the west side. Dad has pissed them off a number of times that I know of, which means he’s probably done it more than a number of times. He can be a real prick that way.
So if the Blood Ravens kidnapped me, then what’s their end game? Maybe they just want to put the fear of God into my father. If they wanted me dead, I would be dead already, so I’m hoping that means I’m safe, at least for now. Whatever the case, I’m in deep shit. As pissed as I am at my dad, I’m beginning to realize that I shouldn’t have left home. That bastard’s dirty dealings have made me vulnerable.
I feel the scratchy, cheap cotton of the sheets beneath my ass, and something else occurs to me. I’m laying here naked – did they... did whoever took me... do something to me? I can’t feel around to be sure, but I sure don’t feel like I’ve been taken against my will. I feel like I would know if I’d been raped. There would be some external sign. I don’t think they’ve done anything untoward.
So, okay. I’m here, I’m naked, I’m in what’s probably the house of some guy from a motorcycle club... why here? Why not stash me at their headquarters or whatever? Because I’m sure Dad knows where their headquarters is – or, at least, somebody in his inner circle does.
I wonder if Dad even knows I’ve gone missing? I seemed ready to run away last night. Could he possibly be out looking for me? Would he bother? The way things ended last night, I kind of doubt it, at least not initially. But that’s the thing – there’s probably no way that he would think in his wildest dreams that the Blood Ravens have me.
Shit.
I’m about to ponder this fact a little more when the door opens. Standing there is the huge, gorgeous man I remember from last night – and from Carmen’s bedside. I try to think of his name, or his call sign, or whatever, but once again, it escapes me. So I sit there stupidly, silently, watching him enter the room, scared out of my wits that he’s going to hurt me.
He doesn’t say a word to me at first. Instead, he carries a tray with a sandwich and a can of soda with a straw to me and lays it on the bedside. He’s got the sandwich cut up into four squares, each small enough to be practically bite-size.
Finally, he asks in a husky, alpha male voice, “You hungry?”
I nod slowly before I can think about it. I am hungry. Starving, in fact. I have no idea what time it is, but I haven’t eaten since lunch – yesterday? Today? Who can tell? Since he’s brought me a sandwich, I have to presume it’s probably dinner, or maybe lunch the next day. I have no frame of reference, which scares the absolute shit out of me.
“I’m awfully sorry about this,” he says slowly as he picks up one of the pieces of the sandwich, “but I’m going to have to feed you. That’s the only way this works, see.”
I don’t say a word as he brings the first piece to my mouth. I take a bite out of it, chew, and swallow, then devour the rest of the piece. He repeats the motion with the second piece.
“Need something to drink?” he asks.
I nod again, and he puts the straw in the can up to my lips. I take a long swig. It tastes good, sugary, and it wakes me up in a way I just wasn’t before. Then he picks up the rest of the sandwich and feeds me in this infantile way again.
Weirdly, I can’t help but think how sexy it is. I don’t know what it is about him, but something in the way he’s commanding me gives me shivers in my nether regions. He’s in complete control of me, and he could take me if he wanted to. But instead, he’s gently feeding me almost like a mama bird. It would be sweet if it weren’t so terrifying. At any rate, I find being in his thrall entirely sexy.
He offers me another sip of the soda, then, when I’m finished, puts the tray down on the ground.
“Do you remember me?” he asks after a moment.
I nod slowly.
“My name is Blade. I used to go out with your sister, Carmen.”
I break my silence for the first time, but my voice comes out as a croak, so I clear my throat and try again. “I remember,” I say simply. “Why – why am I here?”
“Well, it’s not about you, if that’s what you’re wondering,” he says, almost chuckling. “Maria, your dad’s been pulling some... well, some pretty sinister shit lately. He’s been sending his thugs after my people. And we just can’t have that now, can we?”
“I don’t know,” I reply, feeling a little less abashed despite my nudity. “What did you do? Did you maybe... I don’t know... deserve it?”
“Did I deserve to get stabbed by one of your father’s goons?” There’s barely contained fury in his voice. “No, Maria, I did not deserve that. I did not deserve this.” He pulls up his shirt to reveal a barely healing scar with a couple of clearly improvised stitches in it. “Your old man ordered a hit on me after... a business meeting.”
I raise an eyebrow. “A business meeting?”
“That’s what we’re calling it,” he snaps. “Anyway, it had nothing to do with Juan Espinoza and his crew. I had nothing against him, except that... well, he’s a bit of a prick, isn’t he?”
I don’t say anything, but a part of me silently agrees. “You know,” I say, a bit of a tease to my voice, “it’s not exactly easy having this conversation in the nude. I don’t suppose you might bring me my clothes back, would you?”
To my surprise and shock, he shakes his head, and he seems almost sad about it. “I’m afraid not. Prisoners are kept naked. Those are the rules, and we’re sticking by the rules.”
“So I’m your... your prisoner?”
“For the time being, yes.”
I become suddenly fearful and painfully aware of my nakedness. Where just a moment ago I was beginning to feel confident, now I’m starting to feel like a little girl. “Are you... are you going to... to...”
“To what, girl?” he demands. “Spit it out, whatever you’re going to say.”
“Are you going to... rape me?” Tears sting the sides of my eyes.
“What?!” he guffaws, as if this is the funniest thing in the world. “Woman, you listen to me, and you listen good. If I wanted some from you or anyone else, I would get it, and you would give it. Willingly. I don’t go in for this shit about raping women. I’ve never been able to stand it, and I wouldn’t stand for it. I don’t roll that way.”
“So what you’re saying is... I’m safe,” I say, relieved.
“Did I say that?” he snaps again, this time with more menace. “No, Maria, no. You are not safe. You are in deep, deep shit. Well, your father is in deep, deep shit, and you are by association. See, I don’t want to hurt you, but I can’t say the same for my club. I’m sure ultimately they don’t give a good God damn if you live or die, so long as Juan Espinoza is strutting around like a goddamn peacock, like he owns the whole fucking town.
“What I can tell you is that, at least for right now, you are far, far more valuable to us alive than dead. Not that it can’t change – it can, in an instant, and it’ll change a lot faster if you’re not compliant with us.”
“But I’m being compliant!” I shudder. “I – I can tell you stuff. I can... I can do things. I know stuff.”
“Lady.” He laughs again. “If there were something you had that I wanted, I’d have it already, like I told you.”
“I didn’t mean sex,” I say, a little more indignantly than I meant to.
“Neither did I,” he snarls. “Listen, I—”
“Do you want money?” I ask, now beginning to get even more nervous. “I got money – lots of it. Or, my dad does, anyway. We’d pay you. I’m sure he—”
“We don’t want money, girl. I—”
“W-what about in-information?” I stutter. “I-I-I know stuff. Lots of st-stuff. I-I-I could tell you—”
Suddenly, he grasps my face in his right hand. It doesn’t hurt, but it does get me to shut my mouth.
“Would you shut. The fuck. Up,” he commands me. “Now listen to me. I don’t want information from you. I could never trust another Espinoza anyway. Not after the bullshit your sister pulled on me.”
“What did she—”
“SHUT THE FUCK UP, BITCH!” he yells.
He swings and runs his fist smack into the wall out of anger. I’m terrified, but kind of impressed when I see that his hand went straight through the drywall. He’s got one hell of a punch. I would hate to be the guy on the receiving end of it.
“Now, listen to me, would you?” It’s not a question. “I don’t want to hurt you. My role in this is just to babysit your sorry ass until my boss’ plan comes through. So I’m going to do that. But God dammit you’re not making this easy. So I’m going to say this once. Speak when spoken to. Don’t ask questions. Don’t fuck with me, and we’ll get along fine. But if you cross me, even once, I’m not going to hesitate to fuck you up. Do you understand me?”
Annoyingly, at least to me, I start to cry. I’ve never had someone speak to me like this before. I’m terrified, but I’m also pathetic. I know now that no one is coming for me, no one is going to save me from this brute of a man. He could be the one who ends up killing me, and no one would be the wiser. In fact, he may well be – why else would he not have feared showing me his face? Surely he knows Dad will kill him if given the chance. So why take that risk if he doesn’t already know what the outcome is going to be?
“Good,” he says, almost seeming to gloat over my tears. “That’s more like it. That’s what I like to see – a nice, compliant girl. A woman who knows her place. That’s honest to God the best thing that I could see right now.”
I want to say, “Fuck you.” I want to tell him to go fuck himself. I want to tell him my father is going to rain down the fury of heaven against him and smite the fuck out of him and all his motorcycle-riding, drug-hustling buddies. I want to tell him that as soon as ever I get the chance, as soon as my father is done with him, I’m going to tap dance on his grave in victory.
But I can’t do any of that. I’m so lost, so alone. And so, all I can do is look up into the dreamy brown pools of his eyes and say, “Please, Blade, don’t hurt me.”
“Now, now,” he says, almost pleasantly. “Come on now. I have no intention of hurting you, like I said. Honest to God. All I want is for you to listen to me. If you don’t, you’ll be in for a world of hurt, but if you do, nothing bad is going to happen to you. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
I nod, but that’s not good enough for him.
“I need to hear you say it, Maria.”
“Yes,” I murmur.
“What’s that?” he asks, now being a bit obnoxiously belligerent.
“Yes, Blade, I understand.”
“That’s good. I’m glad you understand. Because so long as we understand each other, this will be a breeze.”
I clear my throat, ready to make one more request. “Blade?” I ask timidly. “Is – is there any way I can get these... um... these handcuffs off? I promise I’m not going anywhere.”
He scoffs. “Promises ain’t worth shit from an Espinoza woman,” he tells me, rolling his eyes almost like a sarcastic teenager. “No, I’m afraid the cuffs stay on. The last thing I need is for you figuring out a way out of here and getting me into trouble. You’re going to stay right there.”
“But... but what if I need to pee?”
“Do you need to pee now?” he responds.
“No.”
“Good. I’ll be back in a little while to check on you, and if you need to pee then, we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.”
“What if I need to pee before then?”
“I don’t know – wet the fucking bed for all I care,” he says, exasperated. “Just hold it, for Christ’s sake. I’ll be back in an hour or so. You should be able to hold it until then.”
I slump down on the bed, exhausted from what has been the most terrifying day of my life. This is just the icing on the cake. It’s awful. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know where to go. I have nowhere to go. I’m just stuck. And all because I made the terrible choice to leave my father’s house – a house that I couldn’t stand to be in.
Talk about your damned if you do, damned if you don’t scenarios.
Blade leaves, locking the door behind him, and I start to cry again. So that’s Blade. That’s Carmen’s ex. I can hardly believe that she dated this... this monster. I know her quickie marriage to Blake Cartwright was a dumb thing to do, but that seems to pale in comparison to her having actually been with this guy.
I mean, what could she have possibly seen in him? What possible redeeming qualities did a guy like this have? What kind of animal would keep a young woman locked in his dungeon of a basement, naked and handcuffed to a bed?
Still, I would be lying if I said I didn’t see anything redeemable in him. For one, he might have had me naked and cuffed, but so far, he hadn’t used that to his... advantage. He was clearly very serious – and very passionate – about wanting my consent before touching me. From a guy like him, that was almost touching and sweet. If I hadn’t been the victim of a kidnapping, I might honestly have found it hot. There’s definitely something sexy about a guy who has a healthy respect for his woman.
“His woman.” What the fuck? What am I thinking? I’m not his woman, I’m his victim! This son of a bitch has me locked away like some princess in a castle. I’m raging with fury now, realizing that he’s got me right where he wants me, and even if he hasn’t taken liberties with me yet, he could at any moment.
And yet...
There’s something undeniably sexy about him. Maybe it’s his bulging biceps or his enormous hands. Maybe it’s the deep, almost sad pools of brown that are his eyes. Maybe it’s his cut jawline or his large, strong hands that put a hole in the wall. How could it be that I’m both horrified by this man and, in some ways, turned on by him?
Dammit!
I wonder if he’ll ever trust me enough to take me up on divulging secrets about Dad’s business. That’s the thing I’m afraid of – I could tell him plenty. Stuff that Dad doesn’t know I know. Stuff that I’m pretty sure the Blood Ravens could use. Hell, anybody really could use it. I don’t want my father to get his head blown off, but it wouldn’t be the absolute worst thing in the world if he were to get taken down a few pegs.
Blade was right about one thing: Dad and his goons had gotten too big for their britches. They were starting fights where they didn’t need to, and for what? Why would Dad’s people have jumped Blade in the first place? Simply because he was a Blood Raven? There had to be more to it than that.
Or did there? One thing I had learned about my father in all the years I’d been around his “business” was that he was a few bricks short of a psychopath. Oh, I presumed he cared about Carmen and me, but other than that, there was nothing more important to him than business. Hell, he might have put the business over the two of us. Carmen knew that – which I’m certain is why she left.
I wonder why she broke it off with Blade. Maybe he was too close to the same lifestyle as Dad. Maybe she was just dating him to get back at Dad for being such a bastard. Or maybe she had really liked this Blake guy. Whatever the case, she had clearly left an impact on the poor guy.
Wait, what am I saying? Poor guy? The guy is apparently as imbalanced as my own father, and here I am, pitying him? Am I going crazy? What the actual fuck is wrong with me?
I look to the door, hoping that Blade will come in, interrupt my thoughts, and give me something to do. Of course, he doesn’t. That’s when the fantasies begin. I realize how hot it would be if he just burst through the door and without a word ravished me, taking me to him, putting his enormous hands all over my body, over my skin, over my breasts, feeling him radiating heat as he pushed into me.
It is one of the more erotic fantasies I’ve ever had, and I can’t even do anything about it, being all tied up here – though, in fairness, this makes it just a little bit hotter.
I bite my lip and smile to myself. In the midst of all this, I’m horny as fuck. Probably comes from being naked and tied up. But dammit, in spite of everything, including my abject terror, I realize that I have a soft spot for this vicious animal who has me locked away in the dungeon. It’s almost like a sickness.
And I don’t want to be cured.