Dangerous Thirst (Possessing Her Book 1), page 10
Turning her head away from me, she left her reddened cheek for me to stare at, and remorse hovered above me like a gray cloud. What had I done? And who was I becoming?
Not bothering to tie her up, I climbed off her helpless body and stormed out of the room. My knees buckled when I reached the stairs, and I collapsed onto the top step, the overwhelming stress getting the best of me.
Everything that could possibly have gone wrong with this deal had come to fruition, and with my head in my hands, I wondered how I would ever get from under the mess I was in. Frustration was understandable, but what I had just done was not.
Olivia was defenseless, and I’d hit her like a bully. I knew enough about how awful bullies were, but when put in the position of power, I’d abused it. Guilt flooded me as I shook my head, failing to rid myself of the disgusting memory of slapping an innocent girl.
She had no idea what was happening to her or why, and I couldn’t tell her, so that left us both in an awkward position. I felt helpless despite being the captor.
Getting back to my normal routine seemed like the best move to make because the blackmailers would need to get in touch with me to discuss the next plan. Then again, I figured if they could find my whereabouts on a random night, they could locate my phone number.
The memory of them approaching me at the gala made me think about my career and how I could manage to take another day off. It was unheard of to miss two days, especially at the beginning of the week when I had cases going to trial. But what options did I have? Olivia was too resourceful to be left alone for so long on her own.
Fuck! Everything was moving too fast. I needed time to think and re-strategize, but for all I knew, the cops were planning to bust through the door at any moment with guns drawn to haul me off to jail for two first-degree felonies.
I had to get it together, and fast. Things were quickly getting out of control, and more than ever I had to be analytical to find the best solution. I just didn’t know how to do it.
Olivia’s cries jolted me from my sorrows, bringing me back to the guilt. I was on a cycle of self-pity, craving a drink. But I’d need all my faculties for what was to come. The only question was if I would be strong enough to carry out the task.
18. Chapter Sixteen
Olivia
Monday – Tuesday
Everything had been moving in slow motion since he’d struck me. He was livid, but to be honest, it was worth it to see his face. He was even more handsome than I imagined and looked nothing like a creep who needed to kidnap women for sex.
Sitting alone in the room without the restraints, my mind felt freer as new thoughts came to mind. The day had been filled with twists and turns, most of which seemed to go over my head. My captor said that today I wouldn’t belong to him anymore. Then, he took me somewhere, although I felt we didn’t accomplish what he’d intended.
The police sirens pissed him off as if they prevented him from completing a task. Then, it dawned on me. Maybe he wasn’t planning to kill or rape me. Maybe he was holding me to pass on to someone else. But what would anyone want with me? I didn’t have any enemies or owe anyone money. It didn’t make sense, yet it was the most logical explanation I could come up with.
If that were the case, then my captor might not be as bad as I thought, although his threats did scare me to my core. He’d been beyond angry when we arrived back from wherever he planned to drop me off, if that was the reason we left in the first place.
The sound of my stomach growling brought my attention to the tray of food he’d left on the dresser before everything blew up between us. After skipping breakfast, I was starving, so I walked over to see what he had prepared.
It was chicken nuggets and fries, both gone cold by the time I’d thought to eat it. I was too hungry to complain, so I ate it slowly, trying to savor every bite.
A new plan was necessary because escape felt more and more impossible as the days passed. My captor was too strong, too fast, and too prepared. When he did leave me alone without the restraints, I could hear him moving about close to my door. And because I only knew one way out, I figured he was smart enough to be between me and the exit.
The longer I thought on it, the more I was certain that fighting might not be my best strategy, but to completely submit to a man who had taken me from my home in the middle of the night seemed absurd.
Walking around the room, I enjoyed the freedom, knowing it wouldn’t last long. Boredom came fast, so I began doing jumping jacks and yoga poses to stretch my sore muscles. Before long, my captor came bursting through the door, and I instantly stopped what I was doing and sat on the bed.
“What was that noise?” he demanded.
“I was just doing some jumping jacks, trying to clear my mind,” I explained quietly, hoping that was a sufficient answer. He nodded as if he could relate before joining me on the bed, bringing one rope to my wrist.
This time, I didn’t struggle at all. In fact, I helped him by lifting my limbs to assist him in restraining me and opened my mouth for him to replace the gag.
Unsure of whether it was a lack of energy or just mental exhaustion, I just didn’t want to fight with him anymore. He’d made it clear that although he didn’t want to, he would hurt me. So, I thought it best to try not to give him any reason to exercise his power.
Once he finished, he shut off the lights and closed the door, leaving me alone with my thoughts, tied to the bed. What had only been a few days felt like a lifetime, and I began to wonder who, if anyone, had noticed I was gone.
Had anyone tried to file a missing persons report? I doubted the possibility as soon as I thought it. Of course no one had noticed my absence; no one was close enough to even speak to me regularly.
Tasha Jackson was the only person that would even care if I was missing, and she was so busy with the children, she probably hadn’t noticed. Even if she’d sent a text, she would think I was busy if I didn’t respond immediately, not that I was missing.
No one would think of me being kidnapped because I didn’t have anything to offer anyone. That realization brought back the words of my captor. After he’d slapped me, he said something to me about being from a privileged life. I wanted to correct him, thinking that could possibly clear something up. He had the wrong girl if that was who he was supposed to capture.
Suddenly, a fit of giggles erupted from the pit of my stomach, and I had to press my lips closed to keep quiet. Imagining how ridiculously disappointed a kidnapper would be to try to find a ransom for me was all but laughable.
Olivia Blanche, an orphan from the south side of Chicago, was far from the ideal candidate to make a lot of money from a snatch and grab. The giggles quickly turned to tears as my mood shifted back to reality and the horrible situation I’d found myself in.
Regardless of whether it was intentional or simply being in the wrong place at the wrong time, I was here, held against my will, with a captor who was willing to hurt me if I disobeyed him. This was my life, and who knew how long it would last?
The night sky began to lighten as my thoughts carried me through the night. I wondered what my children were doing. There was a strange comfort in knowing that they would miss me. Even if it was because of the opportunity they would miss out on, they would be sad if something happened to me.
That was an insecurity I’d struggled with since childhood—no one caring if I lived or died. Most children never have to think of such a sad reality because at the end of the day they at least have their parents, and they will always care about their well-being.
But for those of us with no one, and I mean absolutely no one, life in itself is lonely. It was another benefit to starting my foster home—to make sure my kids always knew that someone would miss them if anything happened to them. It seemed like a little effort, but I knew just how much it would mean to someone with little hope, like me.
I drifted off to sleep just before the sun rose and slept through the morning until my captor woke me abruptly. After pulling the gag from my mouth, he held a glass of orange juice to my lips, pouring it into my mouth before I was ready to drink.
“What is going to happen?” I asked after finishing the juice, but he didn’t answer, replacing the gag with cold eyes before leaving the room.
It was the strangest of our interactions by far, and soon after he left, I heard a door slam shut, and then the house went eerily quiet. I strained to listen closely, wondering if he had truly left me in the house alone or if this was some kind of test.
Even if I were alone, there wasn’t much I could do because I was still tied to the bed, and a quick tug proved there was no way out. After contemplating my options, I dozed off again until I was awoken by an urgent need to pee.
Unaware if my captor was even in the house, I tried to make a little noise through the gag, but silence responded. Wiggling my legs, I fought the urge, clenching my eyes shut as I forced myself to think of something, anything, other than my desperate need.
Finally, I heard the door slam and knew he had returned. I wiggled my limbs to create as much sound as I could manage, and it worked. He opened the door with concern on his face as I spoke in muffled tones around the gag.
He moved around the bed quickly, untying the gag. “I really need to pee!”
A shadow of a smile curled the right side of his mouth before he worked quickly to untie me. The second I was free, I leaped from the bed, racing toward the toilet. I didn’t care that he could hear me pee this time; I just needed to release. It felt like two whole minutes went by as I urinated continuously, a weight lifting from my shoulders.
When I finished, I washed my hands before returning to the bedroom. My captor was moving around the bed, lifting the sheets from the mattress. He noticed me and began giving out orders while continuing his chores.
“You need a shower, so go ahead and do that while I wash the sheets. There’s some things there,” he said casually, pointing to a plastic shopping bag.
My insecurity flared up, wondering if he was telling me I stunk, but I quickly came to the conclusion that it didn’t matter. I could have a shower!
The bag included a bottle of conditioning shampoo, a bar of Dove soap, one toothbrush, a small tube of toothpaste, a washcloth, and a bath towel. Everything was new and name brand. I wondered if he was the one from a privileged life because nothing about him seem deprived.
The hot water felt incredible against my agitated skin, and I lathered my hair an extra time just to enjoy my alone time a little longer. His designer shampoo smelled edible, and for the first time in a while, I forgot I was a captive.
After cleaning my body, I brushed my teeth and used a small comb I found in the medicine cabinet to detangle my hair before braiding it in two pigtails. Once I finished, I walked out into the bedroom wrapped in my bath towel.
My captor looked to me, his eyes lingering a little too long before he pointed to a stack of clothes on the bed. Moving quickly, I took them and returned to the bathroom to change. He’d given me a T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants, both of which were far too big for me. I didn’t care about the fit of the clothes; I was just happy to take off my nightgown and cover up.
When I returned to the bedroom in my new getup, he was sitting on the bed with a strange look in his eyes. My heart sunk knowing that something was changing before he even spoke. I could see in his face that there was big news.
“Come sit down,” he ordered, pointing next to him on the bed.
Slowly, I walked toward him, fearful of what he planned to do. Did he want me cleaned for his own purposes? Suddenly, the shower didn’t feel as much of a luxury as it had a few minutes prior.
Looking at the ground, I clenched my teeth, awaiting his announcement, but nothing came. He sat next to me in complete silence, which in many ways was worse. The anxiety was killing me. After days of not knowing what was going on, I felt I deserved a little information, and he finally seemed ready to give it to me.
“So, what’s going on?” I asked, turning to face him.
19. Chapter Seventeen
Hunter
Tuesday
This next part was going to be difficult. I’d known it since I’d concocted the plan earlier, but it was the best thing to do. Olivia wouldn’t like it, but I had to be in control, and now more than ever guarantee that she would remain my captive.
Just as I assumed, the woman who had so discreetly approached me at the gala that fateful night, handing me a letter that had changed everything, had reemerged when I showed my face at the office. Unable to create a lie good enough to miss more work, and unwilling to let my caseload plummet, I’d gone in to assign interns and new hires all of my work. My bosses thought I was going to New York to research a lead, which gave me the few days I needed.
The woman who worked for the blackmailers, although I wasn’t sure in what capacity, had given me a new drop-off point and date. It was three days away, which meant I’d have to keep Olivia for much longer than anticipated.
Initially, I was upset by the woman’s lack of understanding about what had gone wrong at the drop; then I realized she was likely as out of the loop as me, blackmailed into delivering messages to cover up some act she didn’t want to go public. I pitied her in the moment, knowing she would never get from beneath the debt like me.
She reminded me of Olivia, sweet and defenseless. Neither of them was a shark like I was, so I doubted they would seek revenge in the way I planned to. Whoever had found the footage from my crime would regret ever sharing it with me, because as soon as the drop off was over, my life’s plan would be to make their life hell.
Now, I was even more conflicted about my plan after seeing Olivia dripping wet wrapped in a towel. I was so lost in her innocence, I couldn’t even tell her about the clothes I’d brought for her, finding myself speechless as I pointed to the pile.
Deciding against getting anything that could entice me, I’d brought her a pair of my sweats and a T-shirt, at least two sizes too large for her. Somehow, she found a way to still look sexy in the oversized clothes, her hair hanging down to her breasts in two braids.
“So, what’s going on?” She turned to me, fear smeared across her face.
The entire day, I’d felt awful every time I thought of hitting her. I could barely face her this morning when I woke her up, but I had to reprimand her for disobeying me. It was the only way to establish order.
She’d keep trying her luck, pushing me further and further from the rules until she was driving my car to the police station. I couldn’t have that. She was mine, and she needed to understand that.
“We’re going to have to spend more time together than I planned,” I began, watching the confusion settle in her eyes.
“Okay …” She waited for me to continue.
“You have to stay with me a little longer, and we can’t keep going the way we are,” I explained.
“What do you want to change?”
“It’s too much work tying you up all the time.” I shook my head just thinking about the bruises I’d found on my body from her swinging and kicking every time I had to restrain her.
“Especially when you forget to give me a bathroom break.” She rolled her eyes, which pissed me off.
My eyes must have spoken for me because she quickly looked away with fear. I didn’t need her back talk or commentary. She could pee when I said, and I didn’t need to hear any more about it. Besides, I was out learning her fate today, not fucking off. She had to wait until the business was handled.
“So, this is what we’ll do from now on.” I reached into my pocket, digging out the cuffs before slapping one on her wrist and the other on mine.
Her eyes grew wide with shock as she looked from the silver bracelets up to me and then back to the bracelets. I fought the urge to laugh, caught off guard by her response. In some way, I thought she would be excited to spend time with me—plenty of women tried their hand daily. But of course she had to be dramatic about it as if lying in bed with her wrists and ankles tied to the bed was significantly better.
“So, we have to stay together all the time?” She was panting, still staring at the handcuffs.
“Yep. I can’t trust you not to try to escape, and the risk is too great now. We’ll sleep together, eat together, the whole nine. That reminds me—I got us dinner. I figured you’re hungry.” I reached for the paper bag, struggling to maneuver with only one hand.
Slowly, I set the burger and fries on the mattress for her and sat the bag on my lap as I began to eat my own. Olivia stared at the food for so long I thought she might be attempting her hunger strike again, but eventually she began to pick at the food, eating slow, small bites in between glares in my direction.
