Green-Eyed Monster Page 2

  “You’ll sleep here. The gar—the other room is chilly.” She was nudged to sit on the edge of a bed. Her abductor moved away and she heard a drawer open, followed by the clinking of metal.

  The ties were again undone, freeing her hands.

  “Lie down.” She was pressed back onto the pillows. A click, and cold metal cuffed her wrists before her. Her arms were pulled over her head, and the cuffs were then looped to the railed headboard with rope, giving her some maneuverability, but not much. Next, she felt her sneakers and socks being peeled off and a blanket drawn up to her waist.

  “Tell me why you’re doing this. Is it for money?”

  “No.” The answer was quick and a little too sharp. Silence.

  “Well, yeah. But only what’s mine.”

  “What do you mean only what’s yours? Why have you brought me here? I don’t understand.”

  “You don’t have to understand. All you have to do is exactly as you’re told. It’ll be over soon. I already started negotiations with your girlfriend.”

  “My girlfriend? What’s she got to do with it? What’s going on here?”

  “Yeah. It won’t be long till Victoria Gresham pays back what she owes me, and you’ll be free.”

  She started in shock. The metal chain of the cuffs rattled.

  Before she could even think to speak, she heard her abductor move toward the doorway.

  “I’m leaving the door open. I’ll be down the hall. Call if you need anything.” Then she was gone with a soft, “Good night, Ginette.”

  Chapter Two

  Eventually, she slept, which surprised her when she awakened later with her head still spinning. She thought she was going to scream with the frustration of it all but talked herself down from the precipice and focused instead on the information her captor had casually imparted. At least she now had an appreciation of the situation. The more she knew, the better chance she had of escaping. Maybe she could find a way to use her captor and get free.

  “Good morning, Ginette. I got breakfast all ready. Come on. Let’s do the bathroom thing first.”

  The voice seemed more confident this morning. The cuffs were released from the bed and her wrists captured behind her back again. No shoes this time. Barefoot, she was led to the bathroom, the reverse direction confirming the floor map she was building in her mind. She was turned at the bowl. Her Levi’s buttons were opened, this time with more assurance.

  “Do you have to humiliate me like this? Can’t you let me use the bathroom by myself?”

  The bitch was beginning to get off on this now that the first-night nerves were over. It was essential to be firm but careful.

  The next few hours were important. She would emerge as either the psychological victim or victor, and she knew which one she wanted to be. Even as the thought entered her head, she felt the hands on her hips hesitate. Her captor was obviously wavering.

  Maybe she wasn’t so complacent with the situation after all.

  “I suppose, but there’s rules. If I leave you alone, promise there’ll be no tampering with the blindfold, okay?” There was doubt in the question, so she nodded quickly to reassure. She was surprised that the woman had backed down in their first test of wills. No more humiliating nursemaid games.

  “I mean it.” Her captor seemed to realize she’d shown weakness, growling, “You tamper, and it’ll be the sorriest thing you ever did. Got that?” A key click, and her hands were freed from the cuffs.

  “Yes, no tampering.” Hopefully, that sounded cowed and obedient. “I understand. Thank you.” Thank you for pretending I’m human, you bastard.

  “Okay.” The voice withdrew toward the door. “I’m just outside. The tissue is beside you, the soap and towel by the basin.

  And the window is wired shut. Don’t do anything stupid. I’m taking a big chance here, Ginette. Don’t let me down.” The door clicked shut, and her lunatic attacker did not seem to be lurking in the room to test her. When there was no sound for a minute or more, she pushed up a corner of the blindfold and saw a standard, nondescript bathroom. Sighing with relief, she tested the window. It was wired shut, as her abductor had promised, and if the view was any indication, they were in a cabin in the middle of nowhere. If she broke out, where the hell would she run?

  She took a look inside the cabinet. Unfortunately, no Mace.

  A roll-on deodorant. Maybe she could throw it at her captor’s head? Cotton balls, hand cream. Nail clippers. Forbidden in the cabin of a plane, so they had to be dangerous somehow?

  She grimaced. Her humor was slipping as rapidly as her sanity, and her time was almost up. She closed the mirrored door and completed her bathroom business in double time, pulling the blindfold back into position before calling out, “Ready.”

  “You tampered with this.” Angry fingers jerked the knot tighter.

  “Ouch, you’re hurting me.”

  “I told you not to touch it.” Her kidnapper sounded agitated.

  “I dropped the soap and couldn’t find it. I had to take a peek. Look, I pulled it back into position. Believe me, I really don’t want to see you. I’ll have bad enough nightmares after this without your face being in them.”

  The blindfold was tested with a rough pull that caught her hair. Her nerve began to falter. She couldn’t bear it if her captor was going to be sadistic. The freak could flip out and kill her at any moment, for all she knew.

  “Please stop. Does it have to be so tight?”

  “You have only yourself to blame,” her tormentor replied.

  “I see. You’re getting off on this. It’s a power trip.” The words spilled out in a rush of fear and anger before she could censor them. She caught at her breath, terrified that her stress had caused such a dangerous outburst.

  How were people supposed to behave in situations like this so they would survive? She was confident in dealing with most opponents, but some lunatic who’d snatched her from her own home? How could she relate to a mindset like that? She drew a steadying breath and tried to redirect her thoughts along a more positive track. Hey, she’d won the right to pee alone. That was major. And her abductor didn’t even seem to know she’d lost the first important skirmish.

  When the hands returned, promising more pain, she said hastily, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.” Instead, a modicum of slack entered the blindfold knot, relieving the hateful pinching.

  “The sooner you’re outta here, the better,” said her captor.

  ❖

  Once she was seated in the kitchen, the aroma of fresh coffee and bacon felt comforting and lifted her spirits.

  “Okay, Ginette. I got eggs, bacon, pancakes, or just cereal if you like? What’s it to be? What can I get you?”

  “Your name would be good.” She took a chance.

  “I can’t do that.”

  “I need to call you something. White slaver? Human trafficker? How about Snatch?”

  “How’s your headache? Do you need any painkillers?” Okay, so her attempts at humor were going to be ignored. Pity, people gave away so many clues through jocularity.

  “You mean after you just hauled half my head off?” She decided to go for guilt, as humor wasn’t getting her any leverage.

  It worked.

  “Hey, I know you’re caught up in the middle of a bad situation. I know you’re completely innocent. I’m trying to make it as easy as I can for you.”

  The defensive whine tinged with self-justification was infuriating. To hell with censorship, she wanted to rip the head off this mewling jerk. Didn’t she realize what she’d put her “victim” through? The shock, the stress, the sheer terror?

  “You kidnapped me. How easy on me is that?”

  “I already acknowledged you were innocent.”

  “Innocent of what, for fuck’s sake?”

  “Hey, watch your mouth. You can be gagged again.”

  “Yes, threaten and bully me, you…you kidnapper. The least you can do is tell me why I’m here and how long until I can go f
ree.”

  Silence.

  Shit. Had she pushed too far? Was the gag going to reappear?

  That would be a total step backward. She crammed her rage back down, deep inside. Nobody, especially this incompetent amateur, was going to keep her there any longer than necessary.

  “Mickey. Call me Mickey.” It seemed an impasse had been broken. Again, guilt seemed to be the trigger with Mickey. That was very useful to know.

  “Thank you, Mickey. That wasn’t too hard, now was it?” Another victory. So what if it was a fake name? Given enough time, she could wrangle “Mickey’s” favorite grade school teacher out of her. The more Mickey talked, the more she revealed herself.

  Her levels of competence were incredibly low for a felon. A smart captive could work her, unsettle her, then soothe her. Keep her off tilt and hope she spilled even more information.

  “How long until I can go free?” she asked again.

  “That depends on how quickly your girlfriend answers my demands,” Mickey replied.

  “Which are?”

  “None of your business.”

  “Hey, you’re the one treating me like currency. The least you can do is tell me my market value.”

  This time her outburst didn’t gain her anything.

  “So what do you want for breakfast? I can make you some oatmeal if you want.”

  “No. I’m on a hunger strike until you tell me why I’m here.” Just then her stomach growled like a grizzly.

  “Humph.” She could hear humor buried deep in Mickey’s voice. “Wonder how that will go? Should be a long, hard fast.” She bristled with anger. “I mean it.”

  “I’m sure you do. I really believe you’re one determined little lady. But trust me, the less you know, the better. I’m gonna have some bacon with my pancakes. And a fresh cup of coffee. So if you’ll excuse me, I’ll just take you back to the chair in the gara—other room.”

  “No. I don’t want to go back there and just sit. Please, Mickey.” She deliberately used the name.

  “Well then, if you want to stay here, you gotta eat. Damned if I’m listening to that belly growling at me all day.” Mickey got up and began banging pots and pans around on the stove. Water ran from a faucet into a kettle. “I like my coffee strong. Can I get you a cup?” The hunger strike was over. Breakfast meant more infantilism as she was fork-fed small pieces of food with sips of juice and coffee. Mouth always agape for the next morsel, she felt like a baby bird.

  “Boy, you can sure pack it away.” Crumbs were judiciously dusted from her lips and chin with a paper napkin. “Now, I have to go to work.”

  “What? You’re leaving me chained up here alone like some dog? Why don’t you just tie me up in the backyard, for God’s sake?”

  “Hey, don’t freak out. I work from home, in the back offi— never mind. Look, I’m taking you back to your bedroom and I’ll put on some music for you, okay? I promise I won’t leave you tied you up in the garage again—damn.”

  Oh boy, got myself a real rocket scientist here. “I already guessed it was a garage.”

  “I didn’t expect it to take so long,” came the sullen reply.

  “Thought you’d be here and gone in thirty seconds flat. I didn’t know where to put you.”

  Mickey sounded upset that things weren’t running smoothly.

  It seemed she had stupidly brought her captive to her own home, and now she was getting too caught up in the details of caring for her. Probably down to a massive guilt complex. She absolutely stank at criminality. Interesting. I might just slide out of this in one piece yet.

  “I’ll go back to the bedroom, but please don’t keep my arms behind my back. My shoulders are killing me.”

  “All right, but I still have to cuff you to the bed. I don’t want you playing with your blindfold again.” She was led back to the room she’d slept in, smiling inwardly.

  She had memorized the route so well she could do it blindfolded.

  How ironic. I am blindfolded.

  Both hands were again cuffed to the bedhead and an MP3 player placed near her head.

  “Here’s some nice, relaxing music. I’ll be just down the hallway. Call me if you need anything, okay?”

  ❖

  Ten minutes later she was screeching over the wail of pan pipes, “If you don’t come in here and turn off this godawful noise, I swear I’ll inhale my own vomit.” Click! There was blessed silence.

  “Oh, thank God,” she breathed into the pillow.

  “I love pan pipes. How could you not love pan pipes? They’re so relaxing.” Mickey’s hurt voice floated above her.

  “You are one sadistic bitch. Do you know that? Are you trying to torture me as well as hold me for ransom?”

  “What? Never.” Mickey sounded genuinely hurt. “Well, what do you want to listen to? I’m sort of esoteric. I got Song of the Whales, Song of the Dolphins, Meditative Wind Chimes—”

  “You meditate? Again, I puke in the general direction of my lungs. What I want is an audio book. Do you have anything like that?”

  “No. No audio books.” Mickey seemed put out she had not availed of her soothing, chilled-out music library. “But I could duck out and get one. Any author in particular?”

  “Don’t you dare leave me here. What if there’s a fire?”

  “There won’t be a fire. I have to go out sometimes. I need to do chores, like buy milk and bread, collect ransoms, pay bills—”

  “Collect ransoms. You’re collecting my ransom? How much?

  When? How?” She tried to sit up, but her cuffs rattled, keeping her prone. She tried to lever herself into a more comfortable position.

  “Here, hang on and I’ll loosen those.” She felt cool, clean breath on her face as Mickey leaned across her to loosen the cuffs. “No. No ransom paying as of yet. But soon. Hopefully, very soon.”

  Soft, long hair tickled her cheek smelling of bergamot and rosemary, and making her belly flutter, making her want something. She wanted something. She wanted something. She wanted what?

  “I want a shower. I’m lying here smelling myself. There must be some way you can let me wash properly.” The slight hesitation from above allowed her to press home her advantage.

  “Come on. I’m sweaty and uncomfortable, and all my muscles ache. Please.”

  “What about the blindfold? You really, really can’t see me.”

  “What is this, a Beauty and the Beast thing?”

  “Huh? No! It’s a pointing me out in court thing.” Her voice was petulant again.

  God, but she is so easy to tease. “Look, lock me in the bathroom again and don’t let me out until I promise to blindfold myself.”

  Silence.

  “Please, I’ll even squirt soap in my eyes.” A chuckle floated down toward her. Good, she’s in a good mood. Just push it a little bit more. “I’d really appreciate it.”

  “Let me think about it. Look, I want this to work out for both of us. I know it’s tough on you, but I just want us to get through this as easy as possible.”

  So it’s “us” now? Suddenly we’re a team trying to get ourselves through this? Oh, darling, I have news for you. There’s only ME, and MEAT in my team.

  “Please? I’m tired and stinky and achy. No amount of painkillers will make me smell nice. Come on. Give me a break?” She decided to try to play on Mickey’s good humor. It worked.

  More chuckles.

  “Okay, I’ll go get the bathroom ready. But you have to abide by the rules. Believe me, Ginette, it’s important.”

  Chapter Three

  “I’m not risking leaving you alone after last time, so you’re having a bath, not a shower.” Mickey uncuffed her from the bed. She was led to the warm and steamy bathroom.

  “Get your clothes off and I’ll get you some fresh ones.” Self-consciously, she stepped out of her jeans and panties and pulled her T-shirt over her head. She wore no bra. The day of her kidnapping she had been lolling around the house finishing off a few bits and pieces of offi
ce work, and had dressed in her favorite faded Levi’s and an old T-shirt. Now she felt so exposed, standing there vulnerable and naked, not knowing if her kidnapper was looking at her. Perhaps Mickey was not even noticing or caring.

  In her permanent blindfolded state, she was becoming hypersensitive to Mickey. Her movements, tone of voice, the implied meaning in that soft twang. She was trying to understand every little nuance so she could decode her, undo the riddle of the woman who had seized her and then spent time and effort trying to make up for it.

  It surprised her she even cared about Mickey’s reaction to her body. It had been a long, long time since she had thought about herself in a sexual manner. To do so now must be her subconscious’s way of coping with her current state of vulnerability, to eroticize it, to try to compensate for her loss of real power.

  “Be careful as you step in.”

  A hand took hers and led her to the edge of the tub where she cautiously stepped into perfectly heated water. No sooner had she gingerly lowered herself than one wrist was cuffed to the safety hand bar on the side of the bath. Her other was left free.

  “I’m going to wash your hair. I got real nice shampoo and conditioner here. Then I’ll leave you alone to wash the rest of yourself and wallow or whatever. Shout when you’re done and I’ll come back and help you out.”

  “Okay.”

  No sooner had she said the word than the blindfold was removed and warm water began to pour from a pitcher soaking her head. Mickey kept out of sight behind her.

  It felt so good. Her hair was thoroughly soaked, and the same aromatic shampoo she’d smelled on Mickey was applied.

  Gentle hands began to massage the suds through her short hair and flit across the tight muscles of her scalp. She bit back a little moan of contentment as the fragrance and the kneading fingers worked their magic on her tension. She didn’t want to reward Mickey by letting her know how much she was loving this. It had been so long since she’d been pampered outside of a clinically officious spa.

  Again, warm water flowed over her, washing away the lather only for a second application to begin. Firm fingers worked from her crown to the base of her hairline and hesitated for a moment before continuing to knead and massage down to her nape and across her stiff shoulders. This time she could not suppress a long, satisfied moan. She was only human, after all, and this was so delicious.