Two apologies to my readers:
1- Sorry, "Chapter 12" is really Chapter 11, I mistyped when uploading. 12b is truly 12
2- I was supposed to submit this to be posted Friday 8/8/08 but forgot and uploaded 8/9/08.
For more information on story postings and upcoming schedules, be sure to visit my biography here.
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I swam to consciousness. Slowly, painfully, I found the world gray. A blindfold was over my eyes, a blinding light behind it.
My hands were tied as well as my legs to a cool metal chair. The air was drafty, the smell of lube, grease, brake fluid filled my nostrils.
The gag in my mouth tasted like an oil rag, making me nauseous. I struggled against it, moaning, and felt a large hand cup my cheek.
"Awake at last. We're alone for the moment. Care to finish what we started that one day? I'd offer to untie you if you were a good girl, but my partner likes to talk and I know you're into some kinky shit."
Gunnar's voice made me go cold, and he laughed.
The bindings on me were standard cop-issue, and without a free hand and a knife there was no way out.
I started to talk, knowing it would drive him crazy in a few minutes. He'd either hit me, and I hope so hard I fell back, possibly loosening something, or he'd pull off the gag.
An eternity later he loosened the gag. "What the fuck do you want?"
"Cal, is he safe?"
Gunnar made a strange sound and shoved the gag back on, tying it tight. I knew this meant Cal had run. Smart man.
How the fuck could I have ever thought it was Marcus? If the police hadn't gotten him, he'd know I never made it to the meeting spot, and he'd find me.
I had no idea where I was, or how the LC planned to lure Patrick out. I could only hope he was either too smart or too dumb to follow their breadcrumbs.
I began to wonder why I was still alive. Torture? Bargaining chip? Nothing held any appeal, but I had to stay sharp, take advantage.
From the echoes of Gunnar's movements the warehouse was empty. I heard a distant train crossing bell ding and closer an El line rush overhead.
I was in my own warehouse.
I kept my face tight, my breathing steady. I wanted to give nothing away, but I had a plan.
Taped to the underside of the office bathroom toilet tank was a knife. A lifeline. Something I could use.
I began to speak, wiggling in feigned discomfort.
After torturous long moments, the gag came off. "What?"
"I have to use the bathroom."
He snorted. "So piss yourself."
I frowned. "It's not piss."
"Fuck."
He started to untie my legs, but slowly with one hand, the other kept a gun jabbed deep in my ribs.
"I'll tie your hands in front. Door open, blindfold on, I'll stand and watch."
"Now who's into kinky shit?"
Just as I hoped he backhanded me suddenly. The chair slammed back, landing on my hands, and it took almost all of my concentration to take the pain. I had enough left to turn my head to the ground and rub, loosening the blindfold.
I was hauled back up, still tied to the chair, and he held me and the chair by my upper arms. It hurt like hell and I bit my lip.
"Get funny bitch all you want. We've got time alone, and when you're done, I'm going to make you pay."
Rape. I had a feeling.
He slammed me back on the ground, the metal chair reverberating, ringing through my body.
The blindfold was loose enough I could see his knees. The floor was clean, and he had a goddamn buffalo knife in his hand. He used it to cut the ties on my hands and feet, but just when I thought I was free he grabbed my hands and tied them again, in front this time, but still tight.
Gunnar jerked me up, knife to my ribcage, and walked me to the bathroom. He lifted the seat, yanked up my skirt, and used the knife to slice open my panties. I was naked from the waist down and felt his eyes on me. It took everything I had not to vomit.
"Sit, door open, and I'm watching, bitch."
I resisted a smart-ass comment. I needed him as complacent as he could get, if this was going to work. I was not the kind of girl to wait around for a rescue, and I hoped, really hoped Patrick was smart enough to stay the hell away.
I settled on the toilet and I could see his feet. Gunnar wasn't moving.
"I can smell your cologne, I can't shit with you this close."
He chuckled darkly, but backed up. It was all I needed.
I kicked my feet out of slammed the door closed. I used the momentum to throw myself to the floor and gunshots peppered in a line where my head had been.
He had two in the clip.
I threw on the lock, ripped off the blindfold, and got the knife.
"Aileen, what do you think you can accomplish?"
Again, I resisted smart-ass comment. Silence was the language true tough-guys spoke, and it would unsettle him. Still, I didn't know when the LC was due back. I found myself wishing Cal might come back. Fuck, I didn't need a rescue, but I needed a partner, backup.
"Come out now, Aileen, and I'll leave you with use of your legs."
I snorted, I couldn't help it. That was an empty promise when I knew they were going to kill me.
The knife cut through the ties, but with my hands bound it was slow and awkward. Gunnar was laughing, moving around, and I had a feeling he was looking for a spare clip.
"Aileen, you're such a bad girl."
The way he said it I knew he was imagining raping me. Now I really wanted to vomit.
Shit. My knife was smaller, I had no gun, and he was a helluva lot bigger than I was. One solid kick and the door would open. I looked around for a weapon.
Top of the toilet tank. In the movies that knocked people out, but not so in real life. Room spray, toilet paper rolls, cleanser, a sponge, matches Cal had left, and soap. All I had.
"Little bitch, little bitch, let me in."
