Deceiving Lies

The water turned on a minute later and I got out of the bed and walked around his large room as I waited for him to come back out. I wished I could spend time walking around here with the lights on, so I could see if there was anything personal laid out. I wanted to know what kind of guy Taylor really was, other than a confusingly protective and sweet kidnapper.

I picked up one of his free weights and about died under the heaviness of it. I had spent over a month sitting on a mattress, not moving. Although he kept me well fed and I’d had no form of exercise, I still felt like I was thi

Just as I was putting the weight back in the designated slot, the door to the hallway rattled, and I turned to watch the handle twist back and forth as someone continued to put pressure against the door. Another couple attempts to open the door, and my body finally unfroze and I hurried into the bathroom, thankful that Taylor had left the door unlocked.

“Rachel,” Taylor said softly. Just as I was about to explain why I’d rushed in, I heard his voice again—and this time the husky tone of it had every inch of my body covered in goose bumps. “Fuck, Rachel.”

My eyes widened and I turned to face the mirror. It was starting to get steamy in the bathroom, but not enough that I couldn’t see the reflection of Taylor through the glass door of the shower. What I saw had my jaw dropping, and my next inhale becoming audible.

Taylor’s left arm was out in front of him, his hand keeping him leaning toward the wall. His arm closest to the glass door was moving back and forth in a controlled motion. I tried to turn around, but my eyes flashed down and I couldn’t seem to take them off his hand going up and down his long length.

There’s no way I’m seeing this, this isn’t happening. He’s not doing this, and he’s definitely not doing this while thinking about me! Look away, Rachel, for the love of God look away.

“God—yes.”

I stared, transfixed, as his hand gradually moved faster and faster. Something inside me heated, something in me wanted to watch him finish. My fingers twitched watching him, and it was his next “Rachel” that had me snapping out of it and realizing what I was doing, what I was feeling, what I was thinking, and what I was craving . . . from him.

I felt sick. My eyes burned as tears pricked them, and I turned and rushed into the bedroom, not even remembering about the others trying to get in until I was already in his bed and covering my shaking body with the comforter. I wasn’t okay with what I’d just seen, I wasn’t okay with my reaction to watching him, and I wasn’t okay with the images that were still racing through my head at what I wanted him to come in here and do to me.

Biting down on my fist in an attempt to quiet my ragged breathing, I tried not to burst into tears. I’d just gotten my body to stop shaking when I heard the water turn off and the glass door open. I kept the comforter up, covering most of my face, and a couple minutes later when Taylor walked into the room, I didn’t move.

“Rachel . . . ? Goddamn it, you weren’t supposed to go to sleep!” he whispered harshly, and I heard him walking quickly around the room as he checked the door, under the bed, and the closet.

I should have tried to answer him to tell him no one else was in there. I should have told him that someone had been trying to get in the room while he was in the shower. I should have assured him that I hadn’t fallen asleep so he wouldn’t have to worry himself more the next time he had to leave me. But I couldn’t. All I could do was lie there and want for things to be different.

Up until about ten minutes before, I’d never thought of anything romantic or sexual with Taylor—and I knew the only reason I was now was because of what I had seen. I wanted those thoughts gone. I wanted to go back in time and decide to stay in the room when the others had tried to get in, and just be prepared to scream if they had succeeded.

And most of all, I wanted my Kash. I wanted to be wrapped in his arms in our bed. I wanted to go back to the night of the whipped cream war, and beg him to stay home with me so none of this would have happened. I wanted a way to tell him I was okay. I wanted to know that I was going to see him again. And I wanted to know if he was trying to find me.

A couple of drawers opened and shut before I heard the familiar sound of Taylor making himself comfortable on the ground, in front of one of the doors. For the first time in a long time, I wondered why he would go through this day in, day out. I’d believed him that he wanted to keep me safe from the others. But who would go through this just for that reason after kidnapping the person?

Taylor made me feel safe, that hadn’t changed, but now I couldn’t help but wonder if he was waiting for something from me. I still didn’t know why they’d taken me, and it still didn’t make sense that Taylor would be the main one doing the kidnapping, when all he ever did was take care of me. Was I there for him? Was it some weird form of stealing women to be wives, and was Taylor waiting for me to forget about Kash and fall in love with him?

That wasn’t about to happen. I quietly brought my hand up and twisted my engagement ring around my finger. I didn’t know what the date was, but I knew our wedding date was coming up soon, and I wondered what Kash had told everyone.

Has he told them anything at all, or is he hoping he’ll find me before then? Has he told them it’s postponed until I’m back? Has he told them the wedding is canceled? And if so, what was his reason?

I knew he at least had to know I’d been taken. The dispatchers at the department would have told him if Taylor and the other guy there hadn’t done enough damage in the bedroom for him to figure it out.

So is he telling people that I’ve been kidnapped and he doesn’t know when they’ll get me back, or if they’ll get me back? Or is he telling them that I was kidnapped long enough ago, and that without any word, they’re assuming I’m dead?

My chest ached knowing that Kash may indeed think I was dead. I couldn’t help but wonder how long he would have searched for me before giving up. How long he would grieve before eventually trying to move on with his life. And how long would I be here before I came to terms with the fact that I would never get out again?

Taylor’s breathing evened out, and I vowed to someday get out of this place, and get back to Kash.

I BARELY HAD TIME to sit up in the bed and see what was happening before Taylor was throwing himself in front of me and reaching into the nightstand with his free hand—his other hand was holding a gun pointing at two men who were standing just outside the doorway that led to Taylor’s bathroom.

“Don’t move,” he said in warning and pulled the second gun up so he had one aimed at each man.

“Just give us the girl, bro,” the one on our right said. Both had their arms up, but one of his started slowly inching down to his waist.

“Keep reaching for your gun, Jaime, and I’ll put two bullets in your chest.”

Jaime’s hand went back up, and both men took a step away from each other, like they were about to round both sides of the bed. Taylor was already practically sitting on my feet as he kept his guns trained on them, but my body was shaking, and I felt like he was better protection than the headboard I was sitting up against. I forced my legs to move and slowly scooted myself down the few feet on the bed until I was pressed up against his back, and gripping his shirt.

The muscles in Taylor’s back were tense and vibrating as I let my forehead fall to the point right between his shoulder blades, and prayed that if anything happened, it didn’t happen to him.