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DON’T TAKE MY BABY: Twisted Ghosts MC by Zoey Parker (4)


Maria

 

I groaned as I opened my eyes. It took a moment for me to register the fact that I had no idea where I was. Once it hit me, my eyes opened wide.

 

“Hello?” I called out as my eyes frantically searched my surroundings.

 

First off, my arms were tied behind my back. I sat upright in a straight-back chair. My ankles were tied to the front legs. I stretched my aching neck and rocked my head back and forth, trying to loosen out the kinks.

 

“Hey, is anyone there?” I called again. “Where am I?”

 

I kept looking around. It looked like I was in some kind of small wooden cabin. I was in what must have been the living room. It was a really warm, almost cozy room. There was a rug on the floor and nice wooden furniture that looked hand-carved situated around a stone fireplace. The curtains were pulled closed in the windows, so I couldn’t tell where the cabin was.

 

I could see the warm glow of the light in the kitchen, and I could hear running water and the clang of dishes and silverware.

 

“Hey,” I called, trying not to sound panicked. At least I wasn’t with my father anymore, right? “Can you at least tell me where we are?”

 

The water stopped, and I saw the shadow of my captor moving around before he appeared around the corner.

 

“You’re fucking kidding me,” I blurted out as Mickey, the creepy, leering biker who worked for my father came into the living room, still drying his hands on an old hand towel.

 

“You’re awake,” he said, as if surprised. “How’s your head?”

 

“I can’t believe this. You have me tied to a chair in the middle wherever the hell we are, and you’re asking about my head?” I snapped.

 

“Well, I just figured since you were out for so long, your neck and head might be hurting. I’ve got some ibuprofen and water right here for you.” He nodded to a small glass of water and two small white pills next to it.

 

“Oh, yeah, like I’m going to let you drug me.”

 

“No, really, it’s just ibuprofen,” he said with a chuckle. “And the water’s filtered, so it’s clean, too. If I wanted to knock you out, I wouldn’t have to drug you.”

 

I closed my mouth and looked around the room. He was right, apparently, even though I couldn’t quite remember how he’d managed to get me out to his cabin in the first place. I couldn’t remember much after walking out of my father’s office. Had he taken me from the parking lot, or had he followed me home?

 

“So, how much is my father paying you to do this?” I asked him finally.

 

“I’m sorry?” He cocked an eyebrow and tossed the hand towel over his shoulder. It was such a normal, domestic gesture for someone who was kidnapping his boss’s daughter, I almost laughed.

 

“I mean, you work for my dad, so it’s obvious he had you kidnap me to scare me after our little fight. So how much is he paying you to terrorize me?” I asked again. There was something oddly comforting about being kidnapped by one of my father’s employees. It was as if I didn’t have anything to really worry about. Once they grew tired of their little game, I was going to be allowed to go back and finish collecting my things so I could go stay with Elissa.

 

He sighed and walked over to me. He knelt down in front of me with his hands on my knees. For someone who had obviously overpowered me, his touch was soft and gentle. Nothing made any damn sense. None of it was adding up. Why the hell was my abductor offering me something for the pain in my head and neck? Why was he being gentle with me? Why wasn’t he trying to rough me up and cussing at me, demanding that I tell him shit about what I was planning on doing or about my father’s mob connections? Where was the violence?

 

“I think there’s been some confusion, Maria,” Mickey explained patiently. “I’m not kidnapping you for your father. I don’t work for him anymore.”

 

I laughed. What he was telling me made no sense whatsoever. “So, you mean to tell me that this morning, when I saw you leaving the trailer, you had just quit your job?”

 

He shook his head slowly. “No, I quit my job when I left the jobsite this morning to follow you home, where I wrestled you to the ground and choked you out,” he said nonchalantly.

 

A chill ran up my arms and down my spine. I shut my mouth and watched him carefully. Suddenly, he didn’t seem so safe. Suddenly, his nonchalant attitude seemed vaguely threatening. If what he was telling me was true, his peaceful, gentle demeanor was a possible sign that he had come to terms with what he was going to do to me a long time ago.

 

“What do you want?” I asked stiffly.

 

“I want your dad’s money,” he answered in that same gentle tone.

 

I laughed in his stupid face. I laughed as hard as I could. I played it up, cackling, barking, making a show of it so he would hopefully realize how damn ridiculous he sounded.

 

“What’s so funny?” he asked, standing up and stepping back from me.

 

“You. Do you actually think my father’s going to pay up? Do you honestly think he’s the type of man who responds well to ransom demands?” I continued laughing at him.

 

“Oh, he’ll pay up,” Mickey said as he reached back and grabbed the knife that was sitting on the little table next to the water and ibuprofen. “If he wants to see you again, he’ll pay.”

 

He put the knife under my chin, pressing the point against my skin.

 

“You don’t have it in you, Mickey,” I said. “You’re not a violent man. Otherwise you would have knocked me out instead of wrestling me to the ground and choking me out, like you’re some kind of pacifist.”

 

“I’ll do it,” he threatened. His voice shook, like he was saying it mainly to prove to himself how big and bad he was.

 

“I’m sure. Go ahead and do it, then. He’s not going to pay, and to be honest with you, he might not even send anyone to take you out for trying to kidnap me,” I told him.

 

“What are you talking about? Of course he’s going to pay the ransom. Are you saying he’s not going to want you back?” I could tell that what I’d said was really screwing up his plans.

 

“Think about it, man. You saw me when I came out of that office this morning, right? You saw how I looked. I was going home to pack my shit so I could get out of that house when you attacked me in the driveway.”

 

He pulled the knife back from my throat and set it back down on the end table. “What happened?” he asked.

 

“I went in a quit this morning.”

 

“You quit? You’re his daughter. You don’t just quit,” Mickey said, like it was the craziest idea he’d ever heard.

 

“Well, I did. And the bastard was so upset about it that he told me to go home and pack my things so I could get out of the house.”

 

Then, it occurred to me that someone was supposed to have been there to help me. If they had been there, they might have stopped Mickey. Or they might have redeemed my abductor by allowing him to display some of his prowess as a fighter.

 

“Hey, in speaking of the house,” I continued, “did you see anyone else there?”

 

“No, but a black sedan pulled into your driveway as I was leaving with you,” he replied.

 

“Damn. Just barely missed him. My father was sending someone around to make sure I actually did as I was told. I guess he was just a little too late, huh?” I laughed and shook my head.

 

“Yeah, I guess so.” Mickey chuckled.

 

“My dad’s an ass.”

 

“That he is.”

 

Our conversation stalled. I didn’t feel threatened by the biker. Annoyed maybe, because I was tied to a damn chair when I should have been on my way to Elissa’s so I could crash with her while I figured my life out, but whatever. We were both on the run from my father, so even though I was supposed to be his victim, we were sort of in the same boat.

 

And I got the feeling neither one of us really wanted to be in that boat, much less together.

 

“I’ll take that ibuprofen and water now, if the offer still stands,” I said after a moment. My neck and head were hurting so much I was starting to feel sick.

 

“Of course. Give me just a second though.” He walked into the kitchen and came back with one of those straws that bends near the top to make it easier to use.

 

I wanted to laugh, but I wasn’t sure how stable he was. After all, he had just kidnapped his boss’s daughter and was being incredibly polite to her in a cabin, probably in the middle of nowhere.

 

I was just waiting to hear the dueling banjos. Any minute now.

 

“I figure this will make it easier,” he said, putting the straw in the water. “Pills or water first?”

 

“Pills,” I said, stifling my amusement.

 

The water was nice and cool. I made him hold it until I drank the whole glass. It wasn’t much, but I felt like it was an awfully nice gesture.

 

“Now, this isn’t going to kill me, is it?” I asked, joking with him.

 

“I’ll let you know in a minute,” he said with a wink.

 

“You asshole,” I said, laughing.

 

He set the glass down and sat on the couch. “So, why’d you quit?” he asked.

 

“This can’t be happening,” I blurted out.

 

“Why not?”

 

“You’re supposed to be kidnapping me and holding me for ransom, not sitting here on the couch in front of your fireplace holding a perfectly normal conversation with me,” I explained. “It’s not right. It’s not the natural order of things, Mickey.”

 

“Well, it’s not an entirely normal conversation,” he reminded me. “You’re still tied to the chair, and I’m still going to present your father with the ransom notice demanding that he pay to have you safely returned. I still haven’t decided what I’m going to do if he doesn’t pay the ransom. I mean, I can’t keep you around forever, can I?”

 

I was dumbfounded. I blinked at him for several moments. Surely, he wasn’t serious about what he was telling me. Surely, he was going to give up when he realized just how futile his attempt at holding me for ransom was. I didn’t know what else to tell him to make him understand that there was no point in trying to get money out of my father for me. The man had kicked me out. He was disowning me. He had abandoned me, and this rough-and-tough biker didn’t seem like he had a mean bone in his body, certainly not mean enough to do anything to me if my father didn’t comply with his wishes.

 

“So, why did you quit?” he asked again.

 

“Does it matter at this point?” I asked him. “What’s done is done, and here I am now with you. Besides, can you untie me?”

 

“Not yet,” he said, and he got up to leave the room.

 

“I’m sorry for biting you,” I called after him as he walked back into the kitchen. More of my memory was coming back. I hadn’t thought to check his arm for the bite mark and claw marks where we had fought, but I made a note to check again when he came back in.

 

I just hoped that in the meantime he didn’t grow a pair of balls and decide to start making good on his threats against me.