Going Down (10 page)

Kneeling at the foot of the bed, he grabbed an ankle. She jerked, or more accurately, she tried to. But although he had to pull her leg back into position, he had no trouble doing so.

Don't do this to me! Please, don't!

The two-inch-wide strap closed around an ankle. She heard something snap into position. A matching strap first caressed and then closed around her other ankle.

No, please, no.

A third snap told her what she'd already suspected would happen. He'd fastened a short length of leather to her anklets, hobbling her. When he released her, she put all her strength into trying to separate her legs. Nothing. Anchored.

“This way you won't hurt yourself.” He spoke without emotion. “But there's one more thing I need to do.”

A thicker and longer leather strip went around her knees, not tight enough to cut off her circulation but so secure she couldn't bend them. She understood the technology behind what she'd always considered a particularly erotic tie. From the hips down she was more than just helpless; her legs were useless, essentially nonexistent.

“Hmm. Hmmm. Fmm.”

Reeve jerked upright, then pushed himself to his feet and checked her gag. She kept trying to make herself heard, crying and cursing at the same time, but if he understood, he gave no sign.

Stepping away from the bed, he cocked his head. “We're about there. I'll be back once I've secured the boat.”

When he disappeared, at first she felt overwhelming relief, but that had no sooner settled over her when the other pieces fell into place. She was dependent on him for everything. Until and unless he returned, she would remain anchored to the bed, a silent and helpless captive.

Hayley, I've gotten myself into a world of trouble. I don't think he's a killer. Oh shit, I hope he isn't! I don't know what he has in mind and that's scaring me. Find me, please! Whatever you have to do, find me.

Because she had nothing else to do, she tried to imagine what steps he had to go through in order to return the boat to its assigned slip. The channel was so narrow that as they'd been going out, she'd marveled at his ability to maneuver the bulky beast. While they were out on the bay, the air had had that clean and salty smell she loved, but much of that was being replaced by the less pleasant aroma of gasoline, oil, and stagnant water. Although she strained to listen, she didn't hear any other human voices. What time was it?

A gentle bump followed by a rocking sensation told her he'd reached shore. Perhaps he had to jump off the boat to secure it, not that she could tell. The motor had quieted down just before the bump, probably because he'd again put it in neutral. Then the sound died, leaving nothing except silence. No, she amended, not complete silence, because she could now hear her heart pounding.

Concentrating on getting it down to a more normal pace made her lose track of time. As a result, she wasn't ready for the muted thumps his shoes made on the stairs as he descended. Her heart again raced, and yet she wasn't terrified so much as anticipating. A new chapter in her life was about to begin. And this man could and would dictate every word and action of it.

He was big, big and dark, overpowering. Granted, he didn't quite fill the room, but he commanded it and became her world. Against all reason and sanity, her belly clenched, and she pressed her thighs together in response to the unexpected and unwanted energy there.

His silence was unnerving when she needed him to spell out what he intended to do. Specifically she needed to know where he was going to take her and why. Instead of giving her either of those things, he stepped over to the dresser and retrieved something she had no doubt he intended to use on her. Although she wasn't quite as weak as she'd been when he left, neither was she in any condition to put up a fight. Because all she could give him was her own silence, she turned her head and stared at the wall.

Damn him, he was running his hand over the length of her right arm. Perhaps he guessed that the strain across her shoulders was becoming uncomfortable because he devoted several seconds to massaging her there. He was also quieting her, calming her, lulling her. And against all reason, she loved the sensation.
Thank you,
she longed to tell him even as she acknowledged that he was responsible for her discomfort.

A quick tug pulled her right arm closer to the head of the bed. Although she'd already guessed his intentions, he'd freed her wrist before she was ready. Just as quickly, he did the same to her left. This was her moment! Her only chance at freedom!

Opportunity lost, she admitted as he rolled her onto her belly, bringing her arms down and behind her at the same time. Because leather cuffs already circled her wrists, it took him only a second to snap them together. Biting down on her gag, she tested her handcuffs. No, they weren't going to give.

To her surprise, instead of throwing her over his shoulder Tarzan style, he went back to massaging her shoulders. When he was done there, he spend a couple of minutes doing the same to her arms until full circulation had been restored. From long experience she knew that having her hands behind her would eventually exact its toll on her blood flow, but right now she was comfortable—at least relatively so.

After giving her a pat on her buttocks, he lifted her arms by pulling up on the cuffs. More leather settled around her elbows, and he tightened and secured the leather strip so her elbows were only a few inches apart. Her limbs now couldn't be any more useless than if they didn't exist.

Maybe she should have anticipated what came next, but she didn't. As a result, the blindfold was in place before she knew what he had in mind. It wasn't that tight, but its elasticity molded it to her head so it hugged her eyes.

She was locked in darkness, her body useless, silenced. A nonentity, she no longer existed in the world she'd always taken for granted. Against her will she'd been transported to his world, under his command. But although her heart again pounded in her chest, she wasn't afraid so much as acutely alive. All pretense had been stripped away. So this was what it felt like to belong to someone else, to be less than human, a slave, a piece of property.

He wouldn't have done this to her if he didn't have a purpose.

All she had to do was wait and see what that purpose was.

I'm yours. Bottom line, I'm yours.

When he lifted her and placed her over his shoulder, she didn't so much as try to raise her head. Her skin felt as if it were molding to his. His muscles were so damnable strong, so reliable, powerful enough for both of them. If it had been her trying to climb the steep stairs while carrying a hundred plus pound burden, she would have been huffing and puffing, or more accurately dropping to her knees and crawling up, but not him.

From what she could tell, his breathing didn't change as he brought her up to the night sky. The salty breeze licked over her. By his sure footsteps, she guessed he was convinced that no one could see them, and she mentally stepped off to the side so she could watch.

He was striding the length of the boat, heading toward the front where it had been roped to the dock. He had no doubt his long, strong legs could easily bridge the small gap between watercraft and wooden walkway. He'd held her with one arm around her torso while climbing the stairs but now had both hands on her, undoubtedly to ensure that she didn't try to pull something stupid like struggling. Too bad she couldn't tell him that that wasn't even on her radar. How could she want anything except what she was now, part of him.

No! What the hell was she thinking?

After shifting his hold on her, he let go with one hand, and she imagined him reaching for a railing. When she sensed fresh tension in him, she guessed he was preparing to step onshore. Because she had no wish to wind up in the water, she remained absolutely still. Then he jumped and she jumped with him. He landed on both feet, stumbled, but easily caught himself. If she'd been able, she would have applauded.

When he started walking she tried to conjure up her memories. His craft had been near the end of the deck or walkway or whatever it was called, so in her mind she looked at the various fishing and sail and pleasure boats as they passed them. The walkway under his feet rolled gently, forcing him to widen his stance. He strode tall and confident, a casually dressed wealthy and powerful man with what to the casual night observer probably looked like a rolled-up rug. Only by training a light on his burden could someone tell that said load was a trussed human being, but even if that happened, would someone come to her rescue? After all, this was Reeve's world.

He reached the end of the walkway but instead of turning right toward the parking lot where she'd left her car, he headed left. Because her blindfold let in no light she couldn't tell whether he was walking into darkness or toward a well-lit area. She didn't think it would be the latter, but then anything was possible. Wasn't her captivity proof of that?

Time slipped around her, but whether minutes or seconds had passed she couldn't tell because she was still a nonentity,
his.
When he stopped and fished for something in his pocket, she took note of what he was doing, but it didn't really concern her, did it? After all, it wasn't as if she had a say in things. A series of clicks made her wonder if he'd pulled out his car keys and had triggered the remote control. Her mouth dried.

It
was really happening. He was going to take her someplace else. Someplace foreign.

Fear washed over her to drown her earlier lethargy. Before she could put her mind to how she might fight him, he'd lifted her off his shoulders and deposited her on her side on something that smelled like leather. The arm under her scraped over a piece of metal she guessed was part of a seat belt, leaving her to assume he'd placed her in the backseat of whatever kind of vehicle this was.

Trying to keep her head above the fear waves distracted her from what he was doing. By the time she'd pulled it all together, he'd removed the restraints around her elbows and knees. The gesture might have heartened her if he hadn't followed that by securing a seat belt around her middle. Another held her ankles, ensuring that she couldn't sit up. Of course. This way no one they might encounter on whatever road he intended to use would see her.

Nonentity, a
thing
being transported.

Where?

For what purpose?

S
aree couldn't say for sure whether she'd fallen asleep while Reeve drove. Her memories were just disjointed enough that she guessed whatever he'd put into her drink might still be in her system. One thing she did know, by the time they'd reached his destination, she was more than tired of being trussed up. The arm under her was numb, and her neck ached from the unnatural angle. They'd been on a well-maintained road or highway for a long time, but that had changed to one with more than the normal allotment of potholes, and for what felt like the last mile or so, she was positive they were on dirt or gravel.

The Southern California she knew was urban, but east of Los Angeles were desert hills where the lack of a ready water source was largely responsible for the sparse population. She'd done a little exploring of the area, just enough to make her wonder why anyone would want to live surrounded by cactus, lizards, and snakes. If he was taking her to one of those places—

Again acknowledging that he could and undoubtedly would do whatever he wanted when he wanted, she buried her will under acceptance. Mentally and emotionally fighting what was happening wouldn't change anything. Besides, a part of her—

No! She did
not
want this existence, she didn't!

He hadn't turned on the car radio so when a cell phone chirped, the unexpected sound caused her heart to lurch. It rang a second time.

“Yeah,” Reeve said. “No, I've been waiting for you to call.” A pause. “Of course I have her. I would have told you if I didn't.” More silence during which she guessed the caller was talking. “Not a single problem. And so you don't have to ask, we're nearly there. What's been happening on your end?”

Reeve had an accomplice or partner or something, did he? He wasn't some solitary nut after all. But who was he talking to and how was this person, she assumed it was a man, involved?

“You've been in touch with them already? How'd—oh, you're positive she nailed Saree's voice? Yeah, I know she's good.”

Who was good? Did this mean a woman was part of
this
as well? But much as she needed answers, they weren't forthcoming when Reeve switched from asking questions to listening and then describing what had happened since she'd agreed to have dinner with him. The only thing he'd left out was that they'd had sex before he drugged and kidnapped her.

“No, she isn't panicking, at least I haven't seen any sign of it. No, I haven't told her anything. I will when it feels right but no more than absolutely necessary.” Pause. “They can't get any righter than she is. She's going to be perfect.”

Confused by the tone he used when he called her perfect, she was slow to realize the conversation was over. Not only that, the vehicle was barely moving. They were nearly
there,
wherever there was.

The vehicle stopped, and he threw it into park. Then the engine died. Cloistered within her sightless body, she waited, simply waited.

After opening the door closest to her feet, Reeve unfastened the seat belts. Then he removed what had been holding her ankles together but kept the leather anklets on. He helped her sit up. Before she could do more than think about asking anything of her legs, he pulled her toward him, spinning her to the left at the same time so her feet were outside. Gripping her around the waist, he indicated he wanted her to stand.

She tried, she honestly tried, but between the circulation returning to her legs and the gravel, she wound up leaning against him. For just a moment he let her do so, then he picked her up in his arms. Just enough light now penetrated the blindfold that she knew it was morning, but before she could reconcile that with what she remembered of the drive, he started climbing some stairs. She didn't think there were more than three. Then he put her down but kept an arm around her waist. Sounds told her he was unlocking a door.

Fear of what lay beyond the door washed over her, and like a fool, she tried to break free. Of course it took almost nothing for him to carry her into wherever they were. The light faded, plunging her back into darkness. Whimpering low in her throat, she fought the urge to pummel him with her newly free legs.

“I'm not going to hurt you,” he said.

You think I'm going to believe you?

“This is necessary. Otherwise, we wouldn't be here. That's all I can tell you for now, that we don't have a choice.”

Who was that last we? Surely not her.

He was walking on something that caused his shoes to make a faint slapping sound, tile maybe. This time when he put her down, he positioned her on either a couch or easy chair, the smell letting her know that it was made of real leather. The air was fresh, probably because a window was open. Wise in the way of desert temperatures, she hoped he'd close it and turn on the air conditioning before much longer.

Instinct told her that he was no longer standing beside her, and if it hadn't, the sounds he was making would have brought her to the same conclusion. Turning her head one way and then the other did nothing to acquaint her with her surroundings. Her feet were more reliable, letting her know that they were indeed resting on tile.

There. Him. Back again. Even before he touched her shoulder, she'd sensed his presence. The gentle contact made her start, but then she forced herself to relax. Damn it, he wasn't going to intimidate her, he wasn't!

He continued to touch her, his fingers on her arms and shoulders, the back of her neck before traveling around to her chin. By concentrating on breathing, she managed not to shiver. She even found herself relaxing a little, not that she'd let him know. Her spine stiff, she waited because she had no choice.

“Get used to my touch, Saree. It's what I must do in order to make your body my possession. I know what I'm doing. Don't ever doubt that I do.”

Slow, so slow, he walked his fingers from her chin to her throat and from there to the valley between her breasts. The fact that she was clothed made little difference; his heat burned past the pitiful barriers to her helpless and insanely pliable flesh. Even awareness of her full bladder couldn't stop her from responding. What was it he'd said, that she was going to get used to his touch. She could do that, oh yes, she could.

Instead of unfastening her bra as she thought he would, he worked his way up her arms. After briefly massaging the back of her neck, his hands were on her blindfold. Apathy washed out of her to be replaced by anticipation and, strangely, regret. Fantasy was about to end and reality intrude.

She'd been sweating behind the elasticized blindfold. Between that and getting accustomed to the sudden light, several seconds passed before she could make sense of her surroundings. They were in a living room that looked as if it had been professionally decorated. Several windows reached nearly to the ceiling. She was on a couch all right, new and rich looking. The nearby coffee table was a combination of smoky glass and chrome and, she had no doubt, was expensive. The rest of the furniture spoke of the same commitment to class and quality as did several pieces of original artwork. Other decorative touches consisted of handblown glass pieces and copper and chrome freeform objects, all masculine.

Beyond the living room was a dining area and, at angle to that, a kitchen capable of putting out an elaborate meal. Everything spoke quietly and in a dignified way of
money
. So much for her belief that everything off the grid was lucky to have electricity let alone luxury. If this was where Reeve lived—

Before she could finish the thought, her attention was drawn to her purse, which was on the coffee table. Knowing he'd taken possession of it the same as he had her knotted her stomach.

“You need to go to the bathroom,” he announced. “And I need to sleep.”

And after that, what?

He once again hauled her to her feet, then stood back and studied her. Bit by bit her bonds were being released. All that was left now were the gag and wrist restraints, and if she hadn't already run through her options, she might have convinced herself that she was close to being able to run. But she was barefoot, had no water, and didn't know where she was. Unless she had a death wish, she had no choice but to stay where she was—for now.

“There.” He pointed toward the rear of the house. “Head that way.”

Both resenting and grateful for the order, she did as she'd been told. The flooring felt luxurious with each large square slightly different so she knew this was real stone and not some reproduction. Discrete wood blinds had all but been built into the window casings so they nearly disappeared when not in use, which was how they were now. From what she could tell from her glimpses of the surrounding desert, there wasn't another manmade structure around.

She didn't know what the house's exterior looked like but imagined that the colors blended with what nature had designed. And yet it included all the modern conveniences anyone could want as witnessed by the oversized bathroom she'd just walked into. Not only was the shower large enough to accommodate at least four people comfortably, but next to it was a massive tub complete with eight jets. If the sight of the toilet hadn't made its impact on her bladder, she'd have taken all the time she needed to study the room. As it was, she was interested in only one thing.

And yet she was helpless to care for her own needs.

Shooting Reeve a pleading look, she noted that he was in need of a shave, and the bags under his eyes spoke of his sleepless night. “I'm going to release your arms,” he said. “I hope it goes without saying that I trust you're not going to try something. You won't win—never doubt that, you won't win.”

Nodding, she turned from him so he'd have easy access to her bonds. Thank goodness she was accustomed to being handled; otherwise she might lose her mind before this was over.

When was it going to be over
, she asked as he unhooked whatever had been holding her wrists together.
And what's going to be left of me when it is?

Her arms fell to her sides, prompting her to stare at them. Pins and needles attacked her shoulders, and she bit into her gag. Much as she needed to unfasten her shorts, she couldn't until more feeling had returned to her hands so she flexed her fingers and wondered whether her sister was awake and if she'd tried to get in touch with her yet.

Please have gotten my messages. Even if it means you couldn't sleep last night, feel you have to get in touch with me.

“Are you going to do it or am I?”

Furious, she fumbled with her button. Pulling down on the zipper tab took longer, but finally she pushed her garments down to her knees. Because she'd already known he had no intention of giving her privacy, she settled for averting her eyes while sitting on the toilet. The moment her ass came in contact with the porcelain, she let go. Relief!

Finally done, she wiped herself and reached down for her clothing. “Take them off.”

A retort backed up in her dry throat, but she did as he'd ordered because his eyes gave her no choice. She stepped out of her shorts and panties, then at his gesture, she stood and backed against the shower door, giving him access to the toilet. He watched her the whole time he was urinating. That done, he let his shorts slide to the floor. “Your top,” he ordered.

Although she'd been anticipating this, she made no move to obey. Instead, she reached for the knot that kept her gag in place. To her surprise he didn't stop her, his silence letting her know that he didn't care whether she called for help because there wasn't anyone around to hear. Much as she wanted to call him every foul name she could think of, when she'd pulled the gag out of her mouth, all she did was work moisture into her mouth and lick her lips.

Then, not thinking, she pulled her top over her head, unfastened her bra and dropped it to the floor next to the rest of her clothes. After studying her with an intensity that no doubt mirrored her own, he pulled off his shirt. For the first time since their worlds had collided, she was looking at him fully naked. Of course she was too, not that it mattered because she couldn't think beyond stone-hard muscles and deeply tanned flesh.

No question about it, this wasn't a businessman's body.

“Give me your hands.”

She could have refused, could have fought. But not only would he have won the battle, she needed to see where this was heading. When, damn it, when either she got loose or he released her, she had to be able to tell law enforcement everything.

Holding her arms toward him gave her her first clear look at what he'd fastened around her wrists. The two-inch-wide leather strips bore a resemblance to bracelets but lacked any ornamentation. A metal locking device kept them in place, and she only had to glance at the metal rings imbedded in the leather to know their purpose. There was enough play that she could slide a finger between her skin and the cuffs, which meant she wouldn't have to worry about losing circulation for as long as she wore them.

Taking her right wrist, he turned it so the ring was within easy reach. Only then did she realized he'd been holding something in the palm of his left hand. He fastened the something to the ring with a decisive snap. Then, before she had time to comprehend, he snagged her other wrist and brought the two together. Another no-nonsense snap said everything. He'd looped a metal oval hook through both rings and locked it. Her hands were again cuffed together, in front this time.