Willing Captive

His gruffness, his appearance, it works for him in a mean, scary way. Damn shame he’s an asshole criminal who I want to gut with a jagged, rusty blade.

When the others come out from the van, I’m shocked to see a woman amongst the men. What kind of woman would take part in this sort of thing? She must be a heartless bitch. When she removes her mask, she offers me a sad smile that I want to slap right off her pretty face. She is taller than me, fit and lean with long, dark-brown hair and hazel eyes. An olive-ski

These guys are clearly bananas. Mentally unstable fruit loops, every single one of them.

The third man doesn’t remove his mask. He gets into the passenger front seat of the van and it drives away, leaving me with this strange and potentially dangerous group of people. The lady approaches me and asks kindly, “Would you like some water?”

I don’t want anything from these people. Avoiding her gaze, I shake my head.

The man and woman casually flank me while Humungo hottie holds me in a tight grip. He jerks his chin to the left and the olive-ski

Oh shit. He’s the boss-man. Just wonderful.

I risk looking up at him to find his narrowed eyes searching me. He searches a while before his gaze fixes on my hair. I’m sure I look like death warmed up and I don’t give a damn. He’s the reason I look like shit and I wear the look with pride. I straighten, stand taller, and glare right back at him.

Take that, asshole.

Okay, so I’m mentally shaking in my boots, but I can’t let him see that. Right now, I have to go with the flow of things, wait for the right moment and try to escape.

Be cooperative. Be polite. Make them think you’re going along with this whole scheme .

Okay, okay. Time to change tactics. I drop my glare and clear my throat. “Excuse me, uh- um- man. Can you please tell me what I’m doing here?”

He looks into my eyes but doesn’t answer. I try to hold his gaze, but his blue eyes pierce mine. It’s getting a little awkward so I lower my eyes to his chest and try again. “If there’s something you want, I can help you get it. If you could just tell m-”

He cuts me off with a curt, “No.” Then turns away from me, gripping my arm tighter. He turns me to face away from him and I’m suddenly blind.

“Hey.” The asshole blindfolded me! “Hey!” I yell again and try to remove it. My arms flail as I fight a very one-sided fight with him. He takes hold of my hands in one of his large ones and clasps them firmly.

“If you struggle, you lose what little freedom you have right now.” His voice speaks low and directly into my ear. I break out into goosebumps and still.

I don’t want to lose that little freedom, but I can’t stop my mouth from spewing out, “You know you’re an asshole, right?”

A smaller, colder hand grips my arm and I hear an amused feminine voice say, “He knows, alright.”

We walk and walk and freakin’ walk some more before I hear the squeal and creak of a door opening . The woman whispers , “Be prepared. We’re go

Sigh. Just great.

***

Hours of sitting in this awful chair is starting to numb my ass. I move from side to side, wriggling until one of my captors sighs loudly and runs a hand through his hair.

It’s the hot one. Of course.

I look him in his icy-blue eyes and beg softly, "Please. I don't know what you want from me, but I’ll do anything. I’ll give anything for you to just let me the fuck go. I never saw you. I'll never speak a word of this to anyone." I duck my chin, my voice trembles as I whisper, "Please." My head remains lowered and I watch in slow motion as a tear drop falls into my lap.

I hear my captor’s chuckle and devastation breaks my resolve. I burst into sobs and my captors laugh louder.

I lose it.

"You fucking assholes! Getting off on a petrified girl? What kind of men are you? I'll tell you what kind of men! The kind that no one likes, so they have to stick together or they'll be left at the bottom of the food chain to fend for themselves like rabid fucking dogs!" My chest heaves with rage. Both men have stopped laughing and wear matching scowls. I look the hot one in his hard, cold eyes and screech, "You are lower than scum and I fucking hate you!"

I realize I’m hysterical and burst into laughter. Laughing hard, I yell, "I'm locked away in a shithole!" I laugh so hard I’m wheezing. "No one knows where I am!" I snort through my chuckles. "I'm going to die alone!" Laughter forces its way out of me for a good minute, slowly fading out until I finally stop.

I'm hollow. Empty. And numb.

The olive-ski

I don't look at him. I keep my eyes averted and shake my head once. I whisper, "No. Not at all." I finally look up at him. "How would you feel if you'd been kidnapped?"

His lips twitch and he looks over at hottie Humungo. Hottie Humungo’s eyes meet mine. "You tied to a chair?" I look down at my bare wrists and shake my head.

He fires another question. "You been slapped around?"

I look him in the eye and shake my head. He nods in agreement. I blurt out a meek, "I just wa

He raises his brows. "You're so fucking a

Eyes wide, I lift my face to look into his and ask, "Who are you?"

Hottie‘s lip twitches. "The person who just saved your life, baby."

What the mother fuck?

I look around the damp, concrete room. All three of my captors wear matching expressions of amusement. Leaning back in the ass-numbing chair, I try to speak but my mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water. The olive-ski

The woman rolls her eyes at him. “Leave her alone, Rock. She’s been through enough today without your ass-ery.”

“Oh, c’mon. I’m adorable. Everyone loves me.” He winks then blows her a little kiss and she glares so hard I think she might lose her cool and punch him.

And here I sit, all confused and shit, while they banter.

Finally finding my voice, I ask quietly, “Can someone please tell me what’s going on?”

The woman opens her mouth, but the man called Nox cuts her off with a firm stare. “Later.”

She nods once in agreement then shoots me an apologetic smile. She comes over to me and holds out her hand. “My name is Constance. But if you call me Constance, I can’t be held responsible for my actions. People call me Boo and I’d like if you did, too.”

Well, she’s knocked the wind right out of my sails and I’m finding it hard to be indifferent toward her. She seems genuinely nice…but it could be an act. It probably is an act. Yes, I’m sure it’s an act. Reaching out, I take her hand. “Delilah. But if you call me Delilah, I can’t be held responsible for my actions. People call me Lily.”

She smiles then tilts her head. “Lily.” She says my name thoughtfully than shakes her head. “You don’t look like a fragile little Lily to me. Maybe I’ll call you Deedee?”

Deedee is one of the three-hundred-and-fifty-seven nicknames my sister has for me. My lips twitch and I nod. She smiles at me and whispers, “I think we’re going to be good friends.”

The olive-ski