17
Karma
Darkness presses in on me. Pain thuds at my temples, between my eyes. I turn on my side and the throbbing in my head ratchets up. Red sparks flare behind my closed eyelids. I groan and the sound seems to echo in the space. I crack my eyelids open, wince when the brightness overwhelms me. I turn on my back, lay still. Take a deep breath, another. Shit, why won’t the pain recede? I swallow and my throat hurts. I take a mental inventory of my body, but nothing else seems hurt.
I open my eyes again, slowly, and this time they seem to adjust to the brightness which is sunlight pouring in from a window to my right. I glance around, take in the empty room I am in. Well, except for the bed that I am on. I attempt to sit up, then almost cry out when the headache worsens. I bring my hand to my head, then wince when I feel the bump at the back. No wonder I have a headache… I hit my head. OMG, the van. I had been trying to get away from those men in the cafe, when the van…had drawn up next to me. One of the men had grabbed me and thrown me inside, and then… Someone had hit me on the head, I think. Bloody hell, I’ve been kidnapped… Again? What the hell?
Is it just my bad luck, or do I walk around with a target painted on my forehead to attract all of the creeps around me to come after me? Not that Michael is a creep… No, he’s worse… He’s an asshole. A jackalope. A douche canoe of the nth degree. Gah! And here I am, back to being a captive. My freedom had lasted roughly half an hour, if that? And am I going to, once more, lay here waiting for someone to tell me what to do next? Whoever these guys are, they’re surely as dangerous as, if not more than, Michael.
Of course, it’s also thanks to him that I am in this situation. If he hadn’t turned me out, I would never have been kidnapped. A-n-d hold on… If he hadn’t kidnapped me in the first place, then I wouldn’t have been kidnapped again, either. Yeah, everything that’s happened to me is because of him. He’s the one to blame. When I see him again, I am going to yell at him, slap him, then...fling myself on him, climb him like a tree and kiss him. The sound of the door being opened reaches me. My heart jackknifes in my chest. My pulse rate ratchets up. I jerk my head toward the doorway, stifle another cry when the headache seems to intensify.
A man walks in. He’s tall—as tall as Michael, maybe—and broad, but in a way that hints at him spending too much time in a gym… That, and steroids. He is definitely on something, to have his biceps balloon in that fashion. His shirt strains at the seams and outlines his chest, as well as the making of a flabby belly…which is a weird combination. He stops at the foot of the bed, looks me up and down. My skin crawls. The hair on the nape of my neck rises. Shit, this man, he is up to no good. His gaze comes to rest on my chest—asshole—before moving in a leisurely path down to the apex of my legs.
"You’re awake?"
"No, I am sleeping. And clearly, I like to talk in my sleep too."
He blinks, jerks his chin up. "Har, har." His lips kick up, "You have a sense of humor."
"That makes one of us." I scowl at him. "How dare you kidnap me?"
He opens and shuts his mouth. Evidently, I have rendered him speechless, which is a start. I lever my body up, swing my legs over the side of the bed and stand up. My stomach lurches, bile boils up my throat and I swallow it down. My head spins. I draw in a breath, and the world rights itself again. I take a step forward, then another. I walk to the door, grab the handle and twist it. I try to open it and the door resists. Shit. I jiggle the handle, try to pull it back again, "Come on, come on."
I hear his footsteps approach, feel him close enough for his body heat to envelop me. My stomach ties itself in knots. I slide away, just as his heavy hand lands on the door, which shudders. Shit. If he’d grabbed me, he’d probably have broken a bone or two. I turn to face him. He takes a step forward and I stumble back against the door.Don’t show him how scared you are. If you do, it will only make it worse.And there is no one looking for me.
Alphahole has no idea that I’ve been kidnapped again, and if he did, would he come for me? My heart stutters. He would. I have no doubt about it. He may be upset with me, enough to have cast me out, but there’s no doubt that his ego would not permit him to allow anyone else to take what is his. But does he still consider me his? What if he really is done with me? Shit, what if I am doomed to spend the rest of my days here, in this stupid room, with this horrible, overgrown gorilla of a man, whoever he is? Trying to come on to me… Who definitely wants to do worse than just come on to me. Gross!
He rolls his shoulders, no doubt, to impress upon me just how much bigger than me he is.Bloody baboon.
He cracks his knuckles and I pretend to yawn. That wipes the smile off of his face.Stupid shitstain.He lunges forward and I bring my knee up and smash it into his center. He roars in pain. I slide aside, as he bends over and grabs his nuts. I race for the door, hammer on it, "Let me out of here. Let me out. Let me out right now." My head throbs each time my fist connects with the door, but I don’t let up. I sense him straighten and begin to lumber toward me. I pivot, bring my fist down on the door with such force that the entire frame shakes. Pain ripples up my arm, and I cry out. "Open the goddam door. Please open the door, please—"
He grabs my hair and pulls me back with such force that I scream. He shakes me, and I see sparks behind my eyes. Tears squeeze out from the corners of my eyes and my legs seem to give way from beneath me. He releases me and I sink to the floor. He steps toward me, when the door is wrenched upon.
"The boss wants to see you," someone says from outside the room. The man hesitates when the voice speaks again, "You know how he doesn’t like to be kept waiting."
The man grumbles under his breath, then turns and walks out of the door. I lay where I have fallen on the floor. My headache seems to have grown exponentially, now filling the entirety of my head. I groan, then stagger to my feet. I manage to stumble to the bed and sink down onto it. The scent of stale cigarettes and other assorted smells I don’t care to identify assails me. I cough, turn my head away, throw my arm over my eyes and curl into myself.
When I open my eyes again, it’s dark outside. My headache, at least, seems to have receded. Thank God. I sit up, then groan when every part of my body aches. My tongue seems to be stuck to the roof of my mouth. I swallow and my throat hurts. The soles of my feet throb, probably from that hasty run to get away from my kidnappers earlier. I glance around the empty room again. I hate this… Sitting here, waiting to be rescued. Not that there is anyone coming to get me. I hunch my shoulders as a tear makes its way down my cheek. I sniffle, then wipe the back of my palm against my nose. Goddammit, how the hell am I going to get out of this situation?
I rise up to my feet, then hobble over to the window. I glance outside, and blink. We must be on a hill or something, for the lights of the city stretch out in the distance.
I glance down and realize I am on the second floor.
I reach for the handle on the window frame, try to pull it down but it won’t budge. Dammit! I grab it with both of my hands, tense my biceps, then yank it down. Still, no movement. Argh! I draw in a breath, then brace my feet on the floor. I throw the entire weight of my body behind it, and it moves, maybe, just a centimeter. I collapse against the windowsill, panting. A headache knocks behind my eyes, but I ignore it. I grab the handle and twist it. My muscles protest; my arms hurt. My biceps feel like they are being put through a wringer. The handle slides down a little more. Oh, my god! I sink down onto the floor, lean my head into the wall.
I close my eyes, draw in a few deep breaths. Close my eyes and focus inside myself. If my hippie mother were here, she’d tell me to center myself. Zoom in on the intention. Ground myself, draw on the energy of the earth and—I hear the sound of footsteps approaching. I snap open my eyes, then spring up, turn to the window, then grab the handle and yank on it. It moves down a few more millimeters. "Goddam it!" I cry out as I hear the door open behind me.
I throw everything I have into grabbing the handle and hang off of it. Metal against metal screeches and it slips free. I turn around to find the guy from earlier entering the room. My heart slams into my ribcage. My pulse rate spikes. Adrenaline laces my blood. I turn back to the window, fling it open. Then pull myself onto the window sill.
He reaches for me and I clamber out onto the ledge. He leans out of the window, and I evade him. My feet slip on the ledge and I cry out, then right myself. I slide forward, out of his reach, and plaster myself against the wall. I turn to find the bastard trying to pull himself up. His shoulders fill the window, his frame, clearly, too big for the space. As I watch, he maneuvers himself onto the window sill, then shoves one leg over the frame. Fuck!
Sweat trickles down my spine and my dress sticks to my back. I glance down at the ground which, despite the fact that I am on the second floor, seems way farther down than I’d like, then back to where the gorilla climbs out onto to the ledge. He bares his teeth, and my stomach twists. No way, am I going to be a sitting duck, waiting for him to get his hands on me again. Wait—I am standing; does that make me a standing duck? Ugh, not the time for wordplay, Karma! Just this once, can karma be on my side?
He edges toward me and my heart gallops in my chest. Adrenaline laces my blood. My vision tunnels, I stare down at the ground, then toward the horizon.
He gets closer, close enough for him to swipe out his arm. The tips of his fingers brush my hair. I duck, hold up my middle finger at him, then jump.