Chapter 2: Ana's Homecoming
Dane carefully opened the latch on the deck gate, shifting Ana gingerly to protect her body from banging against the fence. Wispy clouds had started to roll in, giving the morning a sleepy haze, with a steady breeze replacing the mercurial gusts of dawn. He paused for a moment, listening with his hand on the gate. The only sounds he heard were the wind and bird songs. He placed a hand on his captive's rear, squeezing gently, and felt and answering twitch beneath the skin. She seemed to be gently shivering still, but if she was aware of him, it was only dimly.
Dane had walked here at night on a dry run, but never been here during the day. However, he knew the layout well enough — Byron had posed as a contractor, and bid to remodel the kitchen at significantly under market value next spring. He'd even discussed other possible jobs, taking copious photos in the process. It had been quite helpful of his new doll to let them know what repairs her dollhouse needed, since the two came as a set. Dane could spend the winter working on her, then do repairs in the spring, either preparing the house for sale, or else setting up shop out here, where he could ply his trade, unnoticed.
When Byron had met her, it had been too early to make the acquisition. They didn't know her schedule, what guests if any she was expecting, or who might miss her if she didn't return. There had been a philosophical reason as well. Byron believed firmly that you should never take a girl on her own turf, unless it was absolutely unavoidable.
Part of it was the chance that she'd get ideas and see something you missed. There'd be a snooping neighbor, or a hidden weapon, or some other resource. But more importantly, being captured on your home turf just felt wrong. It was a special kind of outrage, Byron said, and girls would fight harder because of it. Of course bringing Ana back to her own house held many of the same risks, but surprisingly, Dane's father hadn't had a problem with it. The girl would already be softened up from the acquisition, he'd explained. She'd have lost the initial struggle, and been transported against her will, and that changed everything. With careful planning and diligent training, he'd be continuously in control from now on; she'd never get another chance to escape until he'd broken her of the desire entirely.
Dane was sure the acquisition had made the right first impression on Ana (or whatever he'd call her), but he didn't feel quite as in control as he'd have liked. There'd been people nearby who he hadn't spotted, although they'd gotten her bundled away quickly enough to avoid trouble. And now, he realized as he climbed the deck, he'd forgotten the key. That was two mistakes before training even began.
Dane tried the back door, hoping she'd left it unlock, but no such luck. He knew exactly how it had happened. As usual, they'd brought two bags for the job: the work bag and the valise. The work bag contained straps, hoods, gags, pharmaceuticals and everything else you'd need for a particular job. The valise was for the girl's possessions, with compartments for essentials like wallet, keys and phone (complete with RF shielding to prevent tracking), and a lot of room for the girl's clothes and other possessions which you might not need, but wouldn't want to leave around.
Dane had brought the work bag back with him, complete with a canvas tarp that had come in handy, and he'd been smart enough to leave a little extra room to stash the rags when he' had cut away Ana's clothes. But his dad had the valise, with the girl's keys as well.
Byron must have noticed it and let him screw up anyway — "no training wheels," as he'd reminded Dane. There were a lot of ways he could have handled it in planning. He could have taken both bags, or brought a lockpicking tool, or just planned to stick the keys in his pocket. But he hadn't. He'd forgotten a detail, and Byron had let him go on with the mission anyway. He felt a knot in his belly, wondering what else he might have forgotten.
The girl snapped him out of his revelry. Even bound, draped over his shoulder, and in a drugged stupor, he could feel her shivering, and knew he had to get her some shelter soon. He considered his options. He could wrap her a little better in her tattered clothes and the tarp. She'd be fine, but still colder than he'd like — acquisition already puts so much strain on a girl, and a cold or flu right now would complicate everything.
He supposed he could put his own jacket over the girl as well, or cover her with his body. But he felt like it would set the wrong precedent.
"It's a mistake to get too galant with a girl too early," his grandfather had told him, using the French pronunciation. It had been in fourth grade, when he'd fallen head over heels for a schoolmate. At the time, after asking for some further explanation, he'd understood it more or less as "don't get ahead of yourself." That hadn't stopped him from getting his heart broken, but it had tempered the blow. He'd known something was coming, and part of him had been pleased — he'd felt a little wiser up for the heartbreak, a little closer to understanding his grandfather.
As Dane grew up, the saying had grown with him, and the meaning had evolved to something nearer to, "don't get too affectionate with girls right away." Simple, practical. His grandfather had seemed to already sense what sort of grownup Dane would be, and the challenges he'd face continuing the family business. And so he hadn't wasted his words on advice Dane would never have heard, like "don't get attached." He'd cautioned him simply about getting ahead of himself, and let Dane figure out the rest.
Dane looked at the back door again. It would be easy to break in, but that seemed drastic. Not only would it reduce their own security, but it would also make the winter much colder, and raise uncomfortable questions, should they have to contend with visitors.
Well, that left one option. The deck was made of rich cedar, with a hot tub off to the West, recessed under a wooden canopy that extended out from the side of the house. Standing up, you could see over the railing, but in the hot tub, you were completely out of view, and the canopy would serve as a windbreak, keeping the air above the water comfortably warm. Galant or not, it looked like Dane would be treating Ana to a nice warm soak in his new home.
Carefully, he carried her over and sat her down on her side in a nearby deckchair. The tarp had bunched up, and now her nether lips were just visible beneath her goose bumped posterior. The change in position had roused Ana somewhat, and she woozily slide a leg forward, nearly tipping herself off in the process. Dane grabbed the leg and pulled it back into place, repositioning Ana in the middle of the chair.
"Stay still so I can get you warm," he said, covering her body with the tarp.
She tossed her head vaguely in what might have been an attempt at a nod, and settled down to wait while he slid the heavy cover off the hot tub. It appeared Ana had been planning a soak, because the tub was hot, with another hour left on the timer. It was a touch cooler than Dane liked it, but to Ana's shivering body, probably the highest safe temperature for now. He smiled to himself, silently thanking the girl for another little bit of help.
Dane crouched at the foot of the chair, and unlaced her boots — heavy Doc Martens that laced up to mid calf. Not hiking boots, he thought. He'd have to see if she owned a pair. None of the clothes she was wearing now were ideal for the weather, which confirmed his suspicion that she probably wasn't very knowledgeable about outdoor survival. All the better; the less prepared she was, the less likely she'd be to make a run for it.
