Taken Ch 03 3

Lia could tell the knife at her throat was razor sharp. The strange man in black was barely pressing it against her neck and she could feel it beginning to slice her. She brought her sobbing under control, scared that she'd slit her own throat if she made the slightest movement.

Seemingly pleased with her reaction, he smiled and said, "Don't move. Don't even think about trying to kick me or bite me." As he said this he deftly started undoing his pants with his other hand.

Her breathing hitched as she realized what he was about to do, but she didn't move, terrified of the knife at her neck. It hitched higher as he pulled his erection free. With wild eyes she tried to look at anything in the room but this large man looming over her, knowing what he was about to do.

He increased pressure against her neck. But she hadn't moved! Her green eyes flew back to meet his with question and he said, "Don't look away again." She shut her eyes briefly and he said, "And don't you dare close your eyes. Look at me. Understand?"

Lia answered with an infinitesimal nod as she processed this. How was she going to be able to stay still and keep her eyes on him? It was impossible. Then it came to her. He wanted her to fail. He wanted to hurt her.

He gripped her left knee and pulled it up as he sank down between her thighs. He positioned himself at her entrance but was met with resistance. She wasn't ready. How could she be in this horror of a situation? That didn't stop him though, he roughly pushed ahead anyway. As pain shot through her most sensitive area she cried out and clamped her eyes shut. Before she realized her error his hand came down with a sharp crack against her face. Shocked, more than hurt, her eyes flew open. "Pay attention!" he growled. As he was about to continue to push roughly inside her unready body, he suddenly stopped.

Watching him, it looked like he was trying to listen to something. Then quicker than she thought possible, the knife was away from her neck and there was no longer a man between her legs. Thankful for this reprieve, she breathed deep breaths, clamped her legs back together, and prayed they stayed that way. She watched him sheath his knife and tuck himself away as he went to the window.

He moved the curtain just enough to see out then came back to stand over her. "White truck. New model Ford. Who is it?"

She knew instantly who it must be. Troy must have called their old neighbor John when she didn't show up for work and asked him to come over to check on her. She didn't answer immediately, struggling with whether to feign ignorance or tell the truth or some variation. Then the knife reappeared, and he backhanded Lia across the face as he demanded as if he could read her mind, "Don't lie to me."

Quickly, in pain and in fear, she sputtered honestly, "Neighbor. Retired, old guy."

They both turned their head as they heard the truck door slam. He clamped his hand over her mouth and whispered, "Not a sound. Or you can watch me kill him before I kill you."

She nodded in agreement.

Oh John! Damn it. She was saved from being raped, only to now have John in danger. Grateful for his timely appearance moments earlier, she now wished he'd go away so he would be out of harm's way.

She heard his slow steps on the gravel driveway. A minute later she heard his loud knocking at the door as he called out, "You in there, hun! You fall asleep?" Then more knocking and a rattling as he tried the handle.

The stranger whispered, "Does he have a key?"

Honestly, she didn't know if he did. So she shrugged and shook her head.

She lay there and listened as John made his way around the one story house, knocking on windows and trying to look in. The curtains were pulled shut, so there was no way he would be able to see them in the bedroom. Finally, she heard him walk back to the truck and could faintly hear his voice. The man released her mouth, but she wisely stayed silent. He went back to the window and looked out to see what John was doing. He said quietly, "He's on the phone. Who would he be calling?"

She didn't respond until he walked over to her and glared down at her, tapping the knife against his leg.

Lia whispered, "Probably Troy."

At the mention of Troy's name, a look of disgust and hatred overcame the stranger's face. He spat out the question, "Why?"

Lia hesitated only a second until he advanced on her, then answered quickly, "He probably sent John over here to see why I hadn't showed up for work yet."

"Why would he know you weren't at work? Your boss would call him?" The stranger looked puzzled and insecure for the first time.

She wrinkled her forehead in confusion. He seemed to know so much about them, but he didn't know they worked at the same place? "We work together," she finally explained, when he threatened her with the knife again.

"Fuck!" he said under his breath. He paced back to the window and came back with a look of worry on his face.

"We're leaving," he said. Then he bent and cut the rope that attached her to each corner of the bed but quickly tied her hands back together before she could move them. She watched him take another length of rope and move toward her legs.

Quickly, realizing she could finally move her legs, she rolled away from him to the other side of the bed. Somehow she managed to roll off the bed and land on her feet and she took off running for the door without looking behind her. They lived in a small one-story house. She might make it to the front door before he caught her. He could hear him behind her, cursing at her in a low voice. Her head was pounding with every step she took. Could John hear them running through the house? Doubtful. The old man had a hard time hearing the person sitting next to him.

Just as she was about to make the turn to the front hall, the stranger caught her around the waist and lifted her off her feet and his other hand came up and clamped over her mouth before she could scream.

Lia knew she hadn't had much of a chance with the battered condition she was in, but she had to try. But now what would the stranger do to her for defiance?

His words gave her no relief. Against her ear, she could barely hear his whispered threat, "You'll pay for that stunt, you fucking bitch."

Oh shit

_________________________________________

Troy's phone rang and he snatched it up on the first ring, "Yea?"

"She didn't answer. Doesn't look like anyone's home," John responded.

His stomach sank. Troy grabbed his keys and started walking toward the exit. In the background he heard his manager yell at him, but he ignored him and asked John, "Is her car there?"

"Yea, it's here."

"Go look and see if her wallet is in her glovebox. She doesn't lock her car at home. She wouldn't have gone anywhere without taking her wallet, though," he said. Troy broke into a run as soon as he got outside and sprinted to his car.

"Alright. Hang on." John answered. Troy hurried to his car and was screeching into traffic into seconds.

'Hurry up old man!' he thought.

Finally, John said, "Wallet's in here. What's up? You guys have a fight or something?"

No fight. Shit, this was definitely more serious than that, John-Boy.

Should he tell John to break into the house?

Should he involve the police?

John's voice brought him out of his thoughts, "You still there?"

"Yea, yea. Sorry. Just thinking." Troy responded.

John asked, "You think she's sick in there? What do you want me to do?"

Fuck it, Troy decided. "Try to pick the lock. If that doesn't work, shoot the glass out of the window and go in. Something's wrong."

"Seriously?" John asked.

"Yes." Troy answered.

He was dead serious. He just hoped it wasn't already too late. Or that he was overreacting, because of his past. Troy's instincts told him he wasn't though. The thought of anything happening to her was just too much for him to bear.

'Please', he thought, 'don't let it be too late.'