Gone Wild (24 page)

"You kept me here, sweetheart," he whispered in my ear, "now what are you going to do with me?"

"You don't want me," I said in a quiet voice, unable to meet his eye.

He seemed to jump at that idea, getting into my face. "I do," he corrected me.

"You stay here with me," I said, swallowing so that I wouldn't throw up, "you get caught. He's not going to leave us alone."

"No?" he smiled again mockingly. "He's leaving us alone now. I listened to what he had to say to you. I think he'll be leaving us alone for awhile. Sorry honey, but it sounds like he's finished with you."

"Take my car," I said as soon as the idea came to me. "Take it and get as far as you want."

"Stop acting like you don't want me!" he screamed. The shrill, scary tone of it made my trembling increase tenfold. I didn't want to blink. I didn't want to miss any second of opportunity that might allow me to get away.

"It's not that," I lied, trying to stay calm. I was very close to falling
to the ground in a heap and crying, crawling into myself in an effort to disappear. But something small and powerful inside me wouldn't allow that. "Staying here is the worst thing you can do. That's all."

"I make the decisions," he pulled the rope around my wrists and didn't let up when I whimpered in pain as the rough threads cut into my skin. I looked at his face. He was grinning at the pain on mine. He seemed to be distracted by the picture of me in pain as if he were thoroughly enjoying it.

My finger found its way through a tiny section of rope and I felt the threads loosen on my wrist. I was pretty sure I could release that arm. I just needed to wait for the exact right moment when releasing my arm would help my situation, when once it was released, I could do something with it.

Roadsie made a sudden move, shoving down the v-neck of my tank
top and holding it down. While keeping his eyes on mine, he lowered himself in front of me and licked me from my upper abdomen, between my breasts, and up my neck. As his tongue rounded the corner of my chin, approaching my mouth, I could no longer wait.

I ripped my wrist free of the binds and slapped him across his face. I probably should have lunged for the knife or clawed out at least one of his eyes, but I was so disgusted by his wet saliva on my skin that I followed my instinct, aiming the slap at his cheek and reveling in the way it echoed off the trees around us.

"I was wrong about you," he said in a calmer voice that made me feel incredibly uncomfortable. "Maybe you're not a good girl. Maybe you like it rough, just like I do." He shoved my wrist back into the knot behind my back. He pushed me around so brutally, I worried he might break my arm. I wanted to cry and puke, but I pushed it all down. I had to get out of this. I had to do something to save myself. No matter how scared I got, how hopeless the situation seemed, that voice kept telling me to pick myself up and fight.

As another idea,
another chance at survival popped into my mind, I broke my hand free again and brought it to my mouth. I let out a long loud whistle like Adam said to do if I needed help. I should have done it before, but I wanted to save myself. I didn’t want to call him for help after I broke his heart. But I was too desperate for pride now.

My call came out loud and clear and the birds gat
hered in the trees around us took off simultaneously in a fluttering black cloud above. Before I could finish, Roadsie grabbed my wrist quite painfully and tied it back in an uncomfortable angle. He took out the knife and I felt a sharp slice across my forearm. Droplets of bright blood fell to the ground beneath me.

"Two," he said.

He walked around to the front of me and stared me down. While the prior look on his face had been scary, his current expression made me cower and want to scream. He shoved something thick that smelled disgusting into my mouth.

"You want it rough?" he asked. "I'll make it rougher than you ever had. I'll kill you, bitch." He grabbed my upper arms and squeezed so hard, I knew they'd bruise. He dipped down
and pressed his mouth back to my chest, pulling down my shirt again, trying to free my breasts. His beard was painful, his tongue slimy against my skin as I attempted to wrench free. I tried to spit out whatever he had stuffed in my mouth. With my hands tied behind my back, I could hardly fight. Finally, I spit the thick rag out onto the ground.

He moved his hands from my arms and used his thumbs to roughly force open my lips. His tongue slipped in like a criminal and darted across my mouth, frantically tasting all it could.
I tried to scream, but only sounded like a garbled mess.

I bit down on him
and he backed away from my face and stared at me in disbelief. I took the chance provided in his moment of hesitation and brought my knee up into his groin.

He was too fast. He backed away j
ust before my knee made contact and grabbed my chin in his hand, pointing my face at his.

"If you fight, I'll only fuck you harder.
Do you not understand how the game is played?" His eyes were wide and shiny like an animal's.

I had to get into that cabin. I had to get to the drawer under the coffee maker.

"I thought you wanted it rough," I said in the most seductive voice I could muster. "Take me in the cabin so I can give you what you want."

He stared at me for a long time, his eye twitching, his muscles flexing and heaving with every fast breath.

He scooped me up and carried me to the porch. I searched the trails for movement, but I was almost sure I hadn't made enough noise to get Adam's attention. I couldn't rely on anyone else. I had to save myself. I let my eyes go back to Roadsie's face as he carried me over the threshold into the large open living space of the cabin. A childish grin lit up his dark face as he held me.

23

"I knew it," he said when he set me down on my feet and I didn't run.

"What?"

"I knew you wanted me. You've been waiting for me a long time."

I didn't argue. I wanted to spit in his face, but I didn't. I mentally beat myself up for being so distracted by my problems, by the sexy man who owned this mountain, that I'd let myself stay in this forest of danger—even as my instincts repeatedly warned me someone was watching.

"I don't like being tied up," I said, letting my voice come out small
and submissive. I needed to convince this guy I was nothing to fear.

"I don't like being kicked in the balls. I hate it, in fact."

I tried to inch over to the coffee maker, but he followed my every movement.

"I am a good girl," I tried to convince him. "I'm just scared." It wasn't a lie. I had been trying to shove the fear down, to not let him see it, but what was the point? "I don't want you to rape me. I want
—"

He watched my lips expectantly. He licked his own again. "Tell me," he pushed. "What do you want?"

I didn't speak. I didn't know what to say. I decided on truth, some aspect of truth, presented in such a way as to persuade. "I, I don't know," I stuttered. "I'm not very experienced."

His muscles relaxed a little, the corners of his
mouth upturning into an excited grin. "Want me to tell you what you want?"

I nodded.

He walked around me again, taking in every part of me, running his finger across different sections of my skin. His fingertip seared me just as the knife blade had earlier.

"You want a man
who can't be imprisoned, who takes what he wants." He grabbed my ass in his fist, squeezing too hard, and I shut my eyes. I moved out of his grasp and he released me. Then he grabbed me again, pinching until I stung. He walked around to the other side of me, between the drawer and me.

I walked a few tiny steps until I was right up against him. He was the only thing bloc
king me from the drawer. Looking down to the floor, I asked him to untie me.

He grinned. "Maybe you just haven't been tied up by the right man, yet. In my experience, women enjoy it."

I made eye contact. "Please," I whispered.

His gaze softened even
more. He walked around me. "I'm not a monster," he said. "I'd rather take you willingly. You made me do this. Shit, girl, you asked for it."

I kept my eye on the drawer as he loosened the rope. As soon as the rough threads loosened, I wanted to dart toward the drawer, but I waited. I waited until I heard the coils of rope fall to the floor. Then
I rushed the drawer, opening it, grabbing the gun and pointing it at him so rapidly. I wasn't even thinking, just following my instincts to keep myself alive.

He stared down the barrel of the gun and then met my eyes. He still held a length of rope loosely in his hands.

"Like I said, I'd rather take you willingly," he said with a grin, "but I'm not above using force." He stretched the rope taut between the two hands that gripped it. I didn't take my eyes off his. I didn't remove the aim of the gun from his heart. "Don't hurt yourself, sweetheart." He grinned. His eyes raked me up and down again as if even when I pointed a gun at him, all he saw was a sex object. "Did they teach you how to use that in college?"

I remembered the
orange I mutilated. I could do this. I could do this. God, I wished Adam would bust through that door and save me. I wouldn't let my glance move to the door to search for his arrival. I would not take my eyes off the man in front of me.

He took a step toward me, and my finger twitched. I slid it over the trigger, hearing Adam's voice warning me to avoid the trigger until I'd lined up the sights, until I was sure. In the heat of the moment, however, it seemed impossible
that I could be sure, only close and hopeful.

"Come on
."

I couldn't kill a person. I couldn't even maim a person. I wondered if showing him that I could if I wanted to would be enough of a warning.

I pointed the gun to the glass pitcher of the coffeemaker, taking only a brief moment to line up the sights—when it wasn’t a person I was aiming at, it was much easier not to shake—and I shot. The glass exploded across the counter top and the wall behind it showed an impressive hole where it’d gone through to the outside. Light poured in.

I w
as mesmerized by the damage I’d done. I’d hit my target dead on. The gun had bucked up and was now aimed at the ceiling and my breath had grown fast and loud.

Roadsie knew better than I did how to seize an opport
unity. He took that second of pride in my marksmanship and used it to lunge at me, attempting to wrestle the weapon from my hands. I wasn't giving it up though. I held on. He pulled at my skin, at my clothes, and I just kept trying to regain control, point the gun at him, shoot if I could just get one clear shot.

Showing him that I could do it wasn't enough.

A shadow crossed the light from the doorway. Adam stood watching us in shock. He lifted up his arm and I hoped he would point a gun at Roadsie and end this. But too fast, Roadsie lunged at Adam, knocking his raised firearm from his hand.

I
can't explain what happened next—that super strength that people get in desperate situations, I guess. With Adam in danger, I knew I had to act. I had to save him.

I focused all of my awareness on my hand
and the gun. They seemed to melt into a single organism intent on protection. With just a small movement, I aimed and with a large bit of determination, I held still long enough to shoot.

A resounding gunshot echoed through the space. Everything grew silent and still for a minute
after the bang. I searched around trying to make sense of it all. Roadsie's eyes locked on mine. He collapsed into a bloody heap.

I couldn't stop staring. I couldn't stop the expectation in me that he would
attack again even though I could see the blood pouring from his body and soaking into the carpet.

Adam slipped his arms around my torso from behind and I still stared.

"Ina?" Adam whispered. "Are you all right? I'm so sorry! I'm sorry I wasn't here."

He noticed the gun still in my weak hand. He took it from me, and I grasped it harder, not wanting to let go of its safety.

"You're okay now," he assured me. I shook my head back and forth, unable to put into words all of the fear still twitching in my muscles. It was as if I hadn't been able to feel it while the situation was happening, but now the fear was catching up with me. I was scared for my life. Adam hugged me tighter, and I began to cry into him.

"He's dead
."

I freed myself from Adam's grasp and kicked the b
ody that still oozed blood. The eyes were open, although they had lost their sheen and focus. Now they just stared in dead shock and grew grayer by the second.

"W
e have to call the police," I said.

"I will. I'm j
ust so glad you aren't hurt." His voice hitched on the words, and I moved my glance to him. I noticed his emotions for the first time. He was just as crushed as I was. He was shocked. I thought of his life story, realized how close I’d been to becoming another woman taken from his life by violence.