Undone: A New Adult College Bad Boy Romance (Mature Young Adult Fun Contemporary Romance) (19 page)

When Samantha Hill woke up that morning, the last thing she expected was to be sitting on a floor, hands zip tied behind her back. Her knees were throbbing where they dug into the concrete of the floor. A dull, red ache pulsed in the center of her back. On top of it all, she couldn't stop trembling. Something had been shoved over her eyes, a cloth forced into her mouth soon after the men entered the bank. It had happened in an instant.

The morning had been blissfully warm when Samantha woke up. Her eyes fell on the clock making her groan.
Just five more minutes.
As her legs shifted against the sheets, she considered sleeping in all day for once.
It couldn't hurt to just take one day off.
Still, Samantha was a creature of habit. She found herself pushing her voluptuous frame off of the bed, padding to the bathroom in the hall of her little apartment.

Samantha debated about going into work the entire time she showered and dressed. She slipped into a black skirt that hugged her hips, black heels and a white blouse. Her almond colored hair was twisted into a haphazard bun, before she slipped her glasses onto her face. She examined herself in the mirror.
I could always play hooky for the day.
After a moment, she shook her head. There was still rent to be paid, food to be purchased.

Stepping into the warm air, Samantha wished that she'd changed her mind. Her job as a bank teller wasn't exactly demanding most days, but she didn't want to pass up on such a beautiful day. The thought of wiggling into her shorts, slapping on a tank top and heading to the beach felt like a much more appealing option. Those responsibilities sat at the back of her mind though, keeping her from pursuing her moment of freedom fantasies.

“Good morning, Sam,” a familiar voice called as she stepped through the door.

Heather sat behind the counter, a smile on her thin lips. She waved to Sam. The woman gave her a smile. She had worked with Heather for six years now, seeing her smiling face always improved her day. Heather wore the same dark skirt, white blouse combination, but her honey blonde hair curled down her shoulders in loose waves. Samantha clocked in before settling down in the little black chair behind the counter. Already, the day was busy. A line of customers stood impatiently. Samantha sighed.

“Rough morning?” Heather asked.

Samantha shook her head. “Nope, just a little tired that's all.”

She nodded. “I was up all night. Did you see those guys on the news last night?”

Samantha shook her head. “No, what's up?”

“Well, apparently there's been a group of men going around, kidnapping women. Right in the middle of the day! It's so scary to think about,” Heather said with a shudder.

Samantha counted out the correct amount of money before sliding it to the customer with a smile. “I don't think that will happen here. The bank's security is pretty tight.”

“I guess you're right. I'm probably just being silly,” Heather said with a laugh.

Samantha wasn't entirely sure if she believed that. Although she hadn't watched the news, she'd heard other people talking about the kidnappings for weeks now. Masked men would break into businesses, sometimes in broad daylight, where they'd kidnap women. They never found them or the women. It was unsettling to Samantha, but she wasn't convinced it would happen to her.
Besides, like I told Heather already, the bank has excellent security.

The morning moved quickly for Samantha as she tried to keep up with the steady influx of customers. She'd been so busy that she hadn't noticed the men even walk in. Heather did. When she started screaming, Samantha jumped, her heart thudding against her chest. She looked to where Heather was pointing.

The first thing that crossed Samantha's mind was the fact that the leader resembled more brick wall than man. He loomed over the customers, tall and imposing. Samantha's fingers slipped beneath the counter, grazed the button before she felt something pressed against her head. Her hand trembled as she froze.

“Get your hands up into the air, now.” A gruff voice said close to her ear.

Samantha slipped her hand from beneath the counter before raising her arms in the air. She could hear choked sobs next to her as Heather tried to plead with another man. The men worked efficiently as they rounded up the women from the bank, blindfolded them and shoved cloth between their lips. Samantha's ankle nearly twisted as a hand curled around her upper arm and began to drag her towards the back door. Even though she couldn't see, she could feel the sun on her skin when they were taken outside. It didn't last long before she was pushed into a vehicle. She could smell burning exhaust.

When everyone was loaded into what she could only assume was some kind of van, the vehicle began to move. Samantha could hear Heather's whimpering nearby. She shuffled over to her the best way she could, before she leaned her head against the woman's shoulder. Heather jumped at first, before she seemed to realize that it wasn't one of the men and settled against Samantha.

They bumped around for what seemed like forever. Samantha's knees were throbbing, her wrists screaming. Still, she didn't want the ride to end. The destination was far scarier than the ride. At every pause, Samantha prayed they'd go further, just a little further. The thought had entered her head that the further away they got, the less people would know where to look for them, but she couldn't process more than one horrible thought at once.

When the van finally pulled to a stop, Samantha's heart beat wildly in her chest. She could hear voices talking as the door creaked open loudly. Samantha began to hear scuffling as women were pulled out of the van, muffled protests filled her ears. The men didn't bother speaking to them. Samantha felt herself dragged from the van. A hand gripped her arm, pulled her along as the sound of heels clicking on the ground filled her ears. The walk wasn't long, before she was shoved to the ground. The hard feeling of concrete bit into her knees, made her wince.

Now what's going to happen?
Samantha found herself thinking back to the morning, that feeling in her gut telling her to stay home. Relax. Now, she wished that she'd listened. Samantha could hear voices around her now, but she couldn't understand what they were saying. The language was foreign to her. She felt a shiver of fear work its way down her spine. What would happen next? Refusing to just let her fate unfold, Samantha began wiggling her wrists. She could feel the zip ties digging into her skin, but she would try anything if it even slightly hinted at the chance of getting out of the situation alive.

Fingers worked their way into her hair, yanked her upward. Samantha cried out against the gag. She was pulled to her feet before the blindfold was removed. She squinted against the sudden invasion of light. The men still wore their masks, guns held in their hands. One was pointed right at her chest. In front of her stood a camera on a tripod. The red light glared at her menacingly. Although fear coursed throughout her body, Samantha kept her head held high. She wasn't going to show them how afraid she was. Even if her hands were trembling, even if she felt like fainting at that moment.

A man in front of her spoke a different language as he held up his gun. Samantha wanted nothing more than to close her eyes, shut out the image of her own impending death, but she didn't. She watched him carefully, watched his finger curl around the trigger. If nothing more, she would throw herself out of his way, try to run if she could. Anything was better than the thought that she'd die without a fight.

The action took less than a few moments, but to Samantha it felt like an eternity. The man's finger pulled back the trigger. A smile spread on his chapped lips. Then he was gone. A blur of black moved across the ground until Samantha realized that he'd been tackled by another man. They fought on the ground, as more men filtered into the room. They disarmed the kidnappers so quickly that Samantha was stuck in a daze as she looked on.

The man who had tackled her kidnapper walked over to her. By then, she was trembling in earnest as the adrenaline began to fade away bit by bit and she knew that she wasn't going to die. He pulled out a knife, cut through her zip tie before he removed the gag. Samantha coughed, her mouth dry as she looked at him.

“Are you okay?”

She nodded. “Now I am. I want to get out of here,” she said as she choked back tears.

The man wrapped an arm around her waist. The other women were being helped out too, all of them wide eyed and shaken. Once they reached the outside, Samantha saw that the sun had almost vanished from the sky.
No wonder I'm so sore.
They had been captives for hours. Still, she was grateful that she was even alive. The man who led her out wrapped a blanket around her shoulders before he took off his helmet and glasses.

Samantha was immediately struck by his deep, blue eyes. They held concern as he looked her over. The set of his mouth was firm with a strong jaw. She couldn't stop gazing at him. He ran a hand over her arms, looking at her closely. She pulled the blanket tighter around herself.

“I'm okay, really,” she said. “The other women were kidnapped too, you know.”

“Yes, but they didn't have a gun pointed directly in their face when I came in. I'm gonna walk you over to the ambulance.”

He again wrapped an arm around her waist, before he led her over to one of the many ambulances with flashing lights sitting on top. The EMT began to look her over, but he didn't move. The man just stood there, waiting until she got the all clear.

“I don't see any injury, aside from some bruising. Of course, I think you should go to the hospital just for the mental strain,” the EMT was saying. It sounded as if he was speaking through water.

Samantha shook her head. “I just want to go home.”

All she could think about was running a hot bath, sinking below the edge of the steaming hot water. Then curling up in her bed to cry herself to sleep. The last thought surprised her, but she couldn't deny that it was what she wanted to do. The pencil skirt and heels were putting pressure all over her body. While she wanted to rest, it was in her own bed that she would do so.

As the EMT insisted, Samantha continued to shake her head. She wasn't going to be persuaded otherwise. Her phone had been taken away by the masked men, but she thought it would be possible at least to get someone to call her a taxi. When she asked the EMT for a phone, he sighed.

“Look, it's policy to take you to the hospital. If you want to go home after that, fine. For now, let us take you in, okay?”

Samantha didn't want to go. She hated hospitals and after the events of the day, she was burnt out. Still, the EMT held out a hand to her. Groaning, Samantha let herself be helped inside of the ambulance where she sat on the cot. The EMT spoke to the man who'd saved her. When they were done, he walked up to her, blue eyes still looking her over.

“We'll be following up, more than likely. Try to get some rest, I know it's been a hard day.”

Samantha nodded. “I'll be fine,” she said, but she was clutching her hands together to stop the shaking. “What's your name?” She asked, surprising even herself.

“Clint. What's yours?”

“Samantha. Thank you, Clint. Thanks for getting me out of there, alive.”

When the doors of the ambulance shut, she sighed. Her stomach was a mess of nerves and spent adrenaline. The EMT watched as she curled up on the cot, before he placed a blanket over her. She didn't know when, but her eyes closed sometime soon after they started off. She hadn't realized how exhausted she was until that moment. In the back of her mind, she wondered about Clint, his face the last thing she thought of before she drifted off.

Samantha spent the night in the hospital, the sound of the beeping monitors around her not enough to keep her awake. The doctor ordered rest, medicine to help her relax, painkillers and an antibiotic. Her wrists were worse than she'd thought and she'd sprained her ankle pretty badly. The scratchy, white gown she'd been given had been uncomfortable at first, but it wasn't long before she was fast asleep again.

Two days passed by. She was still sore, but she didn't want to stay another night. She took her prescriptions and went home to her little apartment. It was odd how something she was sometimes so unsatisfied with looked so welcoming now. She touched the walls, picked up her clothes from the floor. Some part of her had been prepared to never see any of it again.