Dwelling in Desire

Notes from the author:

DISCLAIMER:

While this story is generally placed in the BDSM category, I must caution that this chapter involves some non-consent/reluctance. For those who get nauseated by anything that is borderline rape, you may just need to skip (or skim) this chapter. Or maybe avoid my work altogether because I will regularly and unapologetically dance the line between BDSM and non-con.

-------------------------

For once, I could see every raw emotion written on Joe's face, and I was right there with him.

"So," he laughed nervously, "Should we call the cops?"

"Sure," I smirked. "Let's call the cops and see if they're willing to help the two sons of bitches that routinely block them at every turn."

"Not to mention Ruiz has guys on his payroll."

"Yeah," I nodded. "We're on our own."

"Wait a second," Joe frowned. "We don't even know for sure that Ruiz is even involved here."

"The timing though. It's too convenient," I pointed out.

"I agree, but we need to call him to confirm. If he doesn't have them, we will know. If he does, he will have conditions. And I think we know exactly what those conditions are."

"Mother fucker," I cursed. "I think you should do the talking Joe. If I find out he has Beth and Kate, the only thing I'll be capable of is smashing your phone against a wall."

"You think I'm having any easier of a time?"

"Please Joe, do it." I urged. "I'll only make things worse."

Joe nodded and pulled his phone to call. His hands shook as he laid the phone flat on the counter to dial Ruiz.

One ring. Two. Three. Four.

"Hello Martell."

The icy tone with which he spoke was answer enough for me, and as we looked at each other, I could tell Joe agreed.

"Ruiz," Joe answered coolly. "I believe you wanted to speak with us?"

"Speak? What about?" he answered cockily.

"Okay, enough," Joe growled. "Where are they?"

"They? Oh, you must mean Kate and Beth."

Just hearing their names roll off his disgusting tongue made my teeth clench. I glared at Joe, having no one else present to receive my ire.

"Yes," Joe replied flatly. "That's who I mean. Now tell us what you want."

"Donovan, you are there as well?" Ruiz asked, seemingly unfazed by Joe's lack of etiquette.

"I'm here," I answered quietly, struggling to keep the hostility from my voice.

"Good. Yes, Kate and Beth are with me. They are safe, and they will remain so as long as you comply with my terms."

"Which are?" Joe prompted, noticeably impatient.

"My terms are simple. We continue to do business as we have in the past. There will be no termination of services."

"For how long?" Joe asked.

"Indefinitely."

"So we would be denied retirement?"

"Of course," Ruiz laughed. "But I'm sure that is a very small price to pay for the safety of your lovely women. And children."

I knew he has referring to Joe's child, but I couldn't help the new wave of fear that coursed through me from the knowledge that Beth could be pregnant as well.

"On that we agree," Joe affirmed, his eyes glowing with hostility.

"Excellent. So you will join us for dinner, yes? Tomorrow at eight."

"I hardly think dinner will be necessary, or even appropriate Ruiz."

"Nonsense," he dismissed. "I pride myself on being a gracious host. I have also composed my own contract that you will both sign, acknowledging our discussion and the application of the new terms."

"Fine," Joe agreed gruffly. "We will see you tomorrow at eight."

"Looking forward to it gentlemen," Ruiz replied, his voice dripping with smugness just before he disconnected.

"That's it??" I burst out.

Joe looked at me, clearly frustrated, and in no mood for a debate.

"What?"

"Joe, what the hell? You just agreed to his bullshit terms, and blew off the fact that he fucking kidnapped your pregnant wife and my fiancée! What in hell were you thinking?"

"I'm thinking that we need to focus on keeping the waters as calm as possible. Ruiz is not to be fucked with. You know that. I just never thought he would bite the hand that fed him, and so viciously at that."

"Well we pretty much told him we weren't feeding him anymore. So any regard for that principle is moot."

"Exactly," Joe sighed. "Look, Ruiz isn't stupid enough to harm Kate and Beth. I'm confident that he will not touch them, unless we give him a reason to. And I refuse to let it get that far."

"Jesus," I muttered. "I know you're right. We need to get them back, no matter the cost. Doesn't change the fact that I want to murder the fucker. Slowly."

"Definitely," Joe growled.

"So we're just supposed to sit around like dimwit pussies for the next twenty four hours?" I threw my hands up in frustration.

"I'm sure that is part of Ruiz's design. Make us miserable. Vulnerable. Give us a taste of the hell he can unleash on us. And then exploit us."

"I don't want to put Beth or Kate at risk in any way," I nodded. "We both agree on that. But I also think, given this turn of events, that staying with Ruiz will only continue to invite risk in the long term."

"I'm with you Curt, but what can we do? Bust through his gate and eliminate his entire militia? Go in guns ablaze and abolish him, his family, and all his resources?"

"The idea appeals," I smirked. "I've got the guns, and we have a few skilled hands, no doubt. But as much as I would love to shoot his fucking face off, Ruiz is far too powerful for you and I to take on. It would be stupid to even try."

"And he'll probably be tailing us for an indefinite period of time," Joe added. "Tracking our movements, tracing our calls..."

"Fuck me," I shook my head. "You're probably right."

My laugh was free of humor as I threw my head back and stared at the ceiling in desperation.

My expression turned grim suddenly as I realized that we were probably being watched right now. The house may even have been bugged. And our phones. The possibilities were sobering.

Clearing my throat, I schooled my features and addressed Joe.

"There's something I need to show you."

Not waiting for him to respond, I walked casually from the kitchen, and up the stairs.

I led him through the master suite and into the closet, and shut the door.

"Nice closet Curt," Joe mocked. "Now what the fuck are we doing?"

"Security precaution Joe. Your comment made me realize that Ruiz has been watching us, and we have no idea for how long, or what methods he's employed."

"You think the house is bugged?"

"If Ruiz has managed to hack into my surveillance footage, he has a clear view of most areas of my property, inside and out. The only rooms I don't have cameras on are the closets and the basement. As for audio surveillance, I figure it's best not to leave anything to chance."

"Should we have Randall and his team come over and take a look?"

"I think we have to assume the worst right now. Assume that Ruiz knows our every move. He will be waiting for us to pull something, and we shouldn't encourage that suspicion. So I suggest no calls, no security, no nothing until we have our girls.

"Fair assessment," Joe nodded.

"God what I wouldn't give for a drink right now," I groaned.

"It wouldn't help," Joe offered.

"The hell it wouldn't."

"We just need to stick it out, and trust that Ruiz won't hurt them," Joe sighed.

"It would be moronic. He'd have nothing to gain, and everything to lose. We'd rain hell down upon him. He has to know that."

"Yes," Joe nodded. "Let's just get them back, on his terms, and then figure things out afterward."

"My head is spinning with ideas already. All of them impossible," I muttered. "We may have a few connections, but I'm not stupid enough to think they're enough to take out the Ruiz cartel."

"No, probably not," Joe agreed scornfully. "There has to be something we can do. The question is, what can we orchestrate without Ruiz getting wind of it? We have to assume he'll be watching our every move."

"He will. No doubt about that," I frowned, leaning against the wall, my arms crossed as I struggled to think.

Joe and I faced one another in the closet, our expressions switching back and forth between hostile and helpless.

What could we do? What the hell could we do?

My gut twisted as feelings of hate and helplessness consumed me. It wasn't until those feelings hit me in full force though that I realized I'd been here before.

I'd felt this fear, remorse, and desolation.

Jake.

And suddenly, all the anguish I'd buried deep inside came back to me, bringing with it a revelation.

"Joe," I drawled, battling a maniacal grin that I knew was in poor taste, "What do you say we fight fire with fire?"

"What do you mean?" Joe raised an eyebrow.

It was a long shot. Stupid. But probably our best chance.

---

"I want to see Kate! Let me see her!" I screamed into the dark metal door of my cell.

Who the fuck had concrete block cells in their house?

This sick asshole, that Curt works for. That's who.

Dear God. Curt

worked

for this guy. I couldn't fathom how the man I had come to love, and agreed to

marry

, could possibly associate with a psychopath like Antonio. Or whatever his name was.

Was this the bucket of ice water I'd dreaded? Our relationship's prophetic Achilles heel?

God, this

was

it.

I'd known. I'd known all along that this was too good to be true. And evidently, it was. Tears clouded my eyes as snippets of happy moments between Curt and I flashed through my mind.

When I saw him—if I saw him—I doubted I could ever heal from this. I wouldn't be able to look at him the same way

ever

again.

I sat down on an unstained region of the cold concrete floor and tried not to dwell on it. But in the abyss of gray darkness and emptiness, it was hard not to go insane.

Curt is a bad man.

The words didn't make any sense.

He helps bad men, criminals. He is a bad man. Equally criminal.

Tears finally spilled over from the ugly conclusion that I wanted anything but to believe.

And Joe too. Joe was a bad man. Did Kate know? Had she known all along?

She couldn't have. Not without telling me.

Was that why Randall followed her everywhere? Because she required protection from whatever enemies Joe and Curt had acquired in their shady line of work?

It was starting to make sense. Terrifying sense.

But did Kate really understand what Joe was involved in?

I desperately needed to talk to her, but I accepted that it was pointless to keep screaming. I was here until someone decided to let me out.

Antonio had said I wouldn't be harmed. That I was more or less being held hostage. He'd obviously been well aware of my relationship with Curt, though I had no idea how. He'd seemed confident that Curt would come for me. I wanted to believe it.

Joe, I absolutely believed would come for Kate. But did I really know Curt well enough to be so assured of his feelings for me?

Curt loves you Beth.

And you love him.

God I did. I loved him.

Sitting here in this horrid cube of damp cement was rapidly obliterating the happily ever after I'd painted for us only hours ago.

It's done Beth. Curt was just a fantasy. He tricked you. He lied to you. Whenever the fuck you get out of here, you need to run. Don't buy any of his bullshit. Don't waste any more love on the bastard. And he is. He's a bastard. A liar.

The optimist and realist sparred with each other in my mind, making things increasingly difficult to bear.

My energy had renewed somewhat so I decided to try getting someone's attention.

"Hey!! I have to pee!! Let me out!" I yelled.

There must have been someone on guard by the door, because the key sounded in the lock almost immediately.

"You gotta use the can?"

The muscled ape that had grabbed and brought me down here hours earlier looked down at me, annoyed.

"Yes," I hissed. "Among other things."

"What other things?" he smirked.

"I want to see Kate!"

"Not happening," he said bluntly.

"Look," I pleaded, "She's pregnant. She needs food and water, and a blanket."

The guy frowned at me before taking my arm firmly, and steering me to a very utilitarian bathroom at the end of the hall.

"You have three minutes. And don't think I won't break this fucking door down if you take any longer," the man growled.

I really wanted to kick him in the balls, but what purpose would that serve?

I made do with a dirty look of contempt, and slammed the door in his face.

It was hard to pee given the stress of the situation, but I managed, and scrunched my face when I saw there was no soap to wash my hands.

The lack of amenities, while unsurprising, did little to improve my mood, and I met the big dude's scowl with one of my own as I emerged.

"You don't have any soap in there," I hissed.

"Not used to having bitches down here," the oaf retorted.

"Coulda fooled me," I baited him.

Why the hell not? It wasn't like I'd have anyone to look pretty for when I got out of here. Let him leave a few bruises. What did it matter?

"Little bitch," the guy cursed under his breath, and grabbed my arm again to drag me back to the cell.

I winced inevitably from the pressure on my arm, but refused to cry.

"Just make sure Kate is okay, please."

The man said nothing, just shoved me back inside and locked the door.

---

I watched the sun come up, grateful that tomorrow was finally here.

I'd tossed and turned last night, mulling over what the hell I was going to say to Beth when I saw her. God only knew what Ruiz had told her. Even if he'd told her nothing at all, our engagement was most likely fucked.

She'd been kidnapped. Held hostage. And I was the reason.

What more incentive did a woman need to pull the plug and run like hell?

I stifled a laugh at the brief notion that Joe was probably safe in this. He'd already kidnapped Kate. Married her. And impregnated her. Not necessarily in that order. His harsh, sadistic, dominant ways were the foundation of their relationship. It was so dark and primitive, and yet it seemed to work for them.

Bethany on the other hand was too angelic, too pure, too naïve to be anything but horrified by what had happened. She would hate me. Wouldn't she?

Don't torture yourself over this. You'll see her tonight. You'll talk. You'll work it out.

Right.

Dream on fucker.

---

Joe pulled his Bentley up to the gate of Ruiz's property, both our expressions black.

"You good on the plan?" Joe muttered.

"Yeah."

Security approached us, and nodded before opening the gate.

Ruiz was expecting us to pull something tonight, and damned if I didn't want to. But we couldn't. A sick fuck like him would take only pleasure from it. Pleasure for him, and misery, if not death, for us.

We proceeded along the winding path, leading up to the impressive fortress that at this very moment held the objects of our affection. Really, the center of our lives.

I kept alternating between gut-wrenching terror and malicious intent. It was torture, and it was precisely what the asshole wanted.

Well I would play along, if it meant getting our girls back. Retaliation would come later, and while I was still uncertain if my plan would work, it was the best shot we had at breaking free.

I frowned as we emerged from the car, and I spotted Beth's Jetta. Christ, they had

lured

her here. Had Ruiz posed as a potential client? The fucking bastard.

I fisted my hands, and focused on keeping my breathing even as Joe and I entered the house. The butler took our coats and we proceeded as usual to the lounge, but not before Ruiz's minions patted us down, doing a thorough inspection for weapons.

I'd wanted to bring my gun, guns rather, as insurance, but Joe'd told me not to bother. Ever the voice of mother fucking reason.

"My friends! Thank you for coming," Ruiz greeted us, wearing a thoroughly inappropriate grin on his smug face.

"Where are they?" I bit out, unable to control myself.

Joe glared at me, upset that I'd diverted from the plan.

"Haha, all in good time Donovan. Please, have a drink. Joe, you like scotch, yes?"

"I'm fine thank you," Joe growled, his own voice betraying his contempt.

"Nothing? What about you Donovan?" Ruiz looked almost hurt, and it made me want to smash his fucking face in.

"Nothing for me."

"Straight to business I see," the bastard laughed. "Fair enough, fair enough. Please sit."

Ruiz indicated the two massive leather chairs facing him on the sofa. Between us was a grand coffee table, appropriately dark, like him.

Set neatly upon it was a small stack of papers. The bullshit contract he expected us to sign, no doubt.

"Please take a moment to review the terms gentlemen," Ruiz purred before sliding a pen towards us across the coffee table.

I reached for the pitiful document first, since I usually did the final contract reviews anyway.

It was pretty straightforward. And purely in Ruiz's favor of course. We'd continue business as before, but no extended holidays, and no foreseeable retirement. I nodded as I handed Joe the contract, as it was precisely what we had both been expecting.

Joe perused it, before setting it calmly back on the table.

"We have some conditions," Joe declared.

"Conditions?" Ruiz chuckled. "You hope to negotiate?"

"There's always room to negotiate," Joe smiled. "And I'm sure you'll agree to this small caveat, as it does not in any way override your terms."

"And that is?" Ruiz asked, clearly amused.

"No shadowing," Joe answered simply. "You and those in your employ will not stalk, intimidate, harass, threaten, or in any way associate with our families, nor will you continue to monitor us. We will sign, but these are conditions we feel are fair, and again, will have no impact on the quality of service we provide you."

Ruiz sat there silent for several moments, his expression unreadable. This was a man used to getting what he wanted, without delay or hassle. A man used to control.

I'd protested the idea of issuing demands in my discussions with Joe, but he argued that if we made this too easy for Ruiz, that it would put up a red flag for him, and he'd assume we were conspiring against him.

Well, we most certainly

were

conspiring, but that would come later. Far as Ruiz should be concerned, we'd cowered and yielded, however reluctantly, to his demands.

Then he could move on to ruthlessly tormenting someone else.

I hoped.

The persistent dead silence in the room was suddenly shattered as Ruiz erupted in laughter. Joe and I flinched, eyeing each other, uncertain whether the laughter was a good sign, or very bad.

"You've got balls gentlemen," Ruiz shook his head as he recovered from his maniacal laughing fit. "I'll say that for you. But that is why I like you. It is why you are here. Yes! I agree to your terms. My assistant will take care of the changes. In the meantime, let's dine. My chef is serving lamb tonight. Truly mouthwatering, I'm sure you'll agree."

Neither Joe nor I had any appetite to speak of, but we would play the game. Ruiz led us to the dining room, summoning his assistant to explain the contract revisions.

---

After an interminable dinner, which probably would have tasted fabulous under different circumstances, Ruiz escorted us back to the lounge, where his assistant waited with the revised contract.

"Well my friends, here you are," Ruiz handed me the contract, which I sat to review carefully.

He'd added a clause listing everything Joe'd laid out, and the formatting was acceptable, so I nodded and again handed it to Joe.