Willing Captive(5)

Freaking. The. Eff. Out.

Humungo tugs on my arm and steps out of the van, pulling me out behind him. I look around. We’re in an underground parking lot that’s completely empty. I squeak when he lifts me over his shoulder again and carries me like I’m a sack of potatoes. I don’t mind not walking right now because I don’t think I could even if I wanted to, but damn, his shoulder in my belly hurts like hell. My face is pained as I strain through gritted teeth, “Please put me down. You’re hurting me.”

To my absolute shock, he does.

The man places me on my feet in front of him, grips my upper arm with one hand and removes his leather mask with the other. I’m suddenly staring into a pair of blue eyes that are so cold, if you looked up arctic in the encyclopedia these eyes would be pictured underneath.

“Don’t even think about trying to run.” As he says this in his rough and husky voice, I realize I’m trying to back away from him.

Fear washes over me. I take a moment to look around.

Dark. Desolate. Deserted.

Two options flicker through my mind; attempt to escape, or go with the husky voiced, gruff man. Mentally, I weigh my options. Escaping means running. Running on Jell-O like legs likely won’t get me far, which would leave me captured once more by an extremely pissed-off abductor.

I scan my surroundings again , desperately looking for a means of escape. My face falls when I can’t find one. I look up into the face of my kidnapper and nod in resolve.

The dickhead smirks and I want to knee him in the jingle bells.

My face must convey what I feel because his smirk flares into a wide, gleaming, crooked smile.

The man is actually not bad looking. Not traditionally good looking, but gruffly attractive in a manly way. His nose is crooked and looks like it’s been broken a few times, but he has high cheek bones and a strong chin. His full lips surround his teeth which are white and a little crooked on the bottom. This man doesn’t look like he was ever meant to be a pretty boy. His dark hair is buzzed. His tall, muscular frame is extremely intimidating; his arms alone look like they could squish a person’s head to mush with no effort.

His gruffness, his appearance, it works for him in a mean, scary way. Damn shame he’s an * criminal who I want to gut with a jagged, rusty blade.

When the others come out from the van, I’m shocked to see a woman amongst the men. What kind of woman would take part in this sort of thing? She must be a heartless bitch. When she removes her mask, she offers me a sad smile that I want to slap right off her pretty face. She is taller than me, fit and lean with long, dark-brown hair and hazel eyes. An olive-skinned man, who I’m sure was the one standing at my bed, removes his mask and smiles at me. His dark hair is short but not buzzed. His brown eyes are warm and soft. He jerks his chin at me and says, “Wassup?” and I glare at him.

These guys are clearly bananas. Mentally unstable fruit loops, every single one of them.

The third man doesn’t remove his mask. He gets into the passenger front seat of the van and it drives away, leaving me with this strange and potentially dangerous group of people. The lady approaches me and asks kindly, “Would you like some water?”

I don’t want anything from these people. Avoiding her gaze, I shake my head.

The man and woman casually flank me while Humungo hottie holds me in a tight grip. He jerks his chin to the left and the olive-skinned man and the woman jump to follow some unspoken order.

Oh shit. He’s the boss-man. Just wonderful.

I risk looking up at him to find his narrowed eyes searching me. He searches a while before his gaze fixes on my hair. I’m sure I look like death warmed up and I don’t give a damn. He’s the reason I look like shit and I wear the look with pride. I straighten, stand taller, and glare right back at him.

Take that, *.

Okay, so I’m mentally shaking in my boots, but I can’t let him see that. Right now, I have to go with the flow of things, wait for the right moment and try to escape.

Be cooperative. Be polite. Make them think you’re going along with this whole scheme .

Okay, okay. Time to change tactics. I drop my glare and clear my throat. “Excuse me, uh- um- man. Can you please tell me what I’m doing here?”

He looks into my eyes but doesn’t answer. I try to hold his gaze, but his blue eyes pierce mine. It’s getting a little awkward so I lower my eyes to his chest and try again. “If there’s something you want, I can help you get it. If you could just tell m-”

He cuts me off with a curt, “No.” Then turns away from me, gripping my arm tighter. He turns me to face away from him and I’m suddenly blind.

“Hey.” The * blindfolded me! “Hey!” I yell again and try to remove it. My arms flail as I fight a very one-sided fight with him. He takes hold of my hands in one of his large ones and clasps them firmly.

“If you struggle, you lose what little freedom you have right now.” His voice speaks low and directly into my ear. I break out into goosebumps and still.

I don’t want to lose that little freedom, but I can’t stop my mouth from spewing out, “You know you’re an *, right?”

A smaller, colder hand grips my arm and I hear an amused feminine voice say, “He knows, alright.”

We walk and walk and freakin’ walk some more before I hear the squeal and creak of a door opening . The woman whispers , “Be prepared. We’re gonna be here a while.”