They say instinct tells you when something is wrong, or your gut, whichever you’d like to go with. I knew something was wrong the minute I opened my eyes. The first thing I notice is that I’m not in my room. The second is that I’m in a stranger’s room and the third, I am tied up. I struggle to pull my hands free, but they won’t budge. After four failed attempts at sitting up, I finally get it on the fifth.
The room I’m in is very nice. I know that sounds like a stupid thought to have, but it’s the first thing that comes to my mind. It isn’t a crammy cell and I’m not hanging by a hook from the roof. That has to be a good thing, right? The room is large, with a king sized bed and its own bathroom and toilet. It all seems quite normal, until my eyes fall on the door. It’s locked and has a key pad to get out. Worse, the windows are all barred.
I begin struggling again, realizing that perhaps this situation isn’t the best to be in. I try hard to remember how I got here, but all I can recall was dancing at a club. Oh God, did that man I was dancing with take me? Is he a rapist? Murderer? Maybe I’m over reacting; maybe we slept together and I just can’t remember. Maybe he’s into that BDSM stuff or something. It would make sense.
I hear the sound of keys being pressed, then suddenly the door swings open and I’m faced with Johnny. I remember him well enough, but in the light of day, he’s even better looking. He’s only wearing a pair of jeans and his chest is huge. He’s covered in tattoos and his body…holy shit that body. I bite my lower lip as I take in the sight before me. Maybe we did sleep together, God, how unfair that I can’t remember.
He turns to lock the door behind him, and I see across his back, in big, black letters he has written ‘JAGGER.’ Is that his nickname? Or maybe he’s a die-hard fan of Mick Jagger. Stranger things have happened. He walks over to the bed, his blue gaze scanning me. He doesn’t look like a rapist or a murderer, but that’s not to say he isn’t. Sometimes the best looking men are the most dangerous.
“Why am I here?” I ask, my voice is hoarse and my throat is dry.
He raises a brow and smirks. Ok, so maybe we did have sex and played dirty little games.
“You’re here because I need you to be.”
“Did we…”
His eyes widen a moment and his face turns stone hard.
“I didn’t fuck you; I have no intentions of fucking you. Is that what you think this is? You think I tied you up and put you in a secured room because I’m some sort of freaky sex fiend?”
“Well aren’t you?”
He glares at me. “You’re here Willow, because your Father has some very vital information and we need to get him out of hiding.”
My chest seizes. What sort of sick bastard is he? My Father died three years ago. How dare he!
“My Father’s dead, you bastard,” I hiss.
“No, he’s not. He’s in Witness Protection because he delved in the wrong places and ran with information my boys and I need.”
His boys? What the hell is this? Maybe I’m being punked, yes that would make sense.
“Is this a joke?”
“Do I look like I’m joking?”
He doesn’t look like he’s joking, and my heart seizes. Maybe he’s got it all wrong or maybe he has the wrong girl. My Father’s dead, I went to his damn funeral!
“I…my Father is dead,” I whisper, my voice not coming out as hard as I would have liked.
“I said before, he’s in witness protection; it’s their job to make you think he’s dead and it’s my job to get him out.”
“Why me?”
He smirks and I no longer see beauty. Right now, I hate this man standing in front of me and my survival instincts begin taking over. If he’s going to hurt me, then I can’t change it but I sure as shit can make sure I stay cool, calm and collected.
“When he hears of your kidnapping, he will step forward.”
“You’re assuming my Father loves me,” I blurt, before considering how my words might sound.
He looks momentarily stunned, like maybe he’s made a mistake, and then he shakes his head. “You’re his daughter. He will come for you.”
“And what if no one reports me missing?”
He narrows his eyes, “I know what you’re doing and it won’t work. Your family will report this.”
“My Sister doesn’t see me often, it will take her at least a month to realize something’s off. My Mother’s in a mental institution and has been for eight years. So tell me, wise guy, how do you suppose this little plan will work?”
Suddenly he reaches forward and grips my face in his hands, leaning in close. “I would advise you keep your mouth closed, I’m not here to argue with you. I have a purpose for you, so just be quiet and do as you’re told.”
He lets go of my face and with a little push, I fall backwards. I struggle in my binds but I can’t get free. He pulls a knife from his jeans and walks over. I clamp my eyes shut, don’t show fear. It will all be over soon. He rolls me onto my stomach and crushes my head into the pillow with one hand, I brace for the stinging pain in my back, but it doesn’t come. Instead, he cuts the binds and lets me go. I don’t dare move. It’s a trick, it has to be. As soon as I move, he’s going to hurt me.
“You can’t get out of this room, so don’t try. I’m not going to hurt you; I have no intentions of hurting you. I just need you until your Father shows his face. We can make this easy or difficult. Do as you’re told and it will pass quickly and smoothly. Don’t do as you’re told, and things could get messy. I don’t want to have to go for your Sister, so just do as I ask.”
“My Father would do nothing for my Sister, she isn’t his child.”
“No, but you would do anything for your Sister and if that threat keeps you here, then so be it.”
I clamp my eyes shut, don’t cry, be strong. He wants weakness. When I open my eyes, his gaze is fixed on my face. He doesn’t look so bad, but that doesn’t mean he’s not.
“Just leave her out of this,” I whisper.
“Then do as I say and this will run smoothly.”
“I don’t deserve this,” I snap, finding my strength. “Are you so pathetic that you have to steal an innocent girl just to get some information?”
He takes hold of my shoulders, and I take the opportunity to kick my legs, connecting with his hip. He roars and leaps backwards, and I roll off the bed and start crawling towards the door. He snarls a curse and spins around, gripping my ankle and pulling me back. I kick him again, hitting something I can’t see. He leaps on top of me, pinning me to the floor. I squirm in his grip, desperation coursing through me.
“Let me go, please, I’m begging you!” I scream.
“You can make this easy or hard on yourself,” he says, his breath on my ear, his voice like steel. “I don’t want to have to punish you Willow, but I will. The choice is yours, do as I say and your stay here will be manageable, if you don’t...it won’t be.”
“I’ll never give in to you; mark my words I will get out of here!”
“Stop it, enough!” He roars, lifting me with one quick movement and depositing me on the bed. He holds the knife out towards me and I freeze.
He stares at me for a long, long moment before he turns and walks out of the room, slamming the door and trapping me once more. I scream and hurl curses at him, but it’s too late, he’s gone. I smash my fists into anything I can find, and soon I’m on the ground heaving and crying. This is all my fault, I took drinks from a random stranger and now I’m paying for it. I should know better, I’m Twenty Two years old!
My heaving turns into hyperventilating and I begin gasping for air; I can’t stay here, I can’t be trapped in this room for months…or years. I claw at the carpet, my face burns from where he hit me. My body is trembling and I can’t force myself to calm down. All this over my Father? Who is apparently alive? How could he do this to me? How could he lie? I thought he was dead, only to find out he’s alive and doing illegal things.
When I finally manage to start breathing properly, I crawl to the window and peer out. Heavy bars cover most of the view, but I can see that we are in the middle of nowhere. All I can see is trees for miles and miles, nothing but thick trees. I would get out of here though, one way or another, I would be free.