3. Montana

3

Montana

I open my eyes, and my nostrils are overwhelmed by the smell of stagnant water and mildew. I don’t know where I am. The last thing I remember is a man tossing me into his truck, making my bound wrists ache behind my back.

I try to move my arms, but I’m chained to a bed. My ankles are shackled too.

He locked me here. That crazy fucking asshole. He tried to shoot me. He was going to shoot me in my head with his shotgun. My eyes burn with tears at the horror of my circumstances, but I bat them away, trying to take in my surroundings.

I knew my father hated me but to put a hit out on me? I’m a little surprised. But I have no reason to be. I betrayed him, just like my mother did, and he killed the love of his life. Why would he bother to spare me for the same transgression ?

Though this is the first time my father’s done this to me, it wasn’t hard to figure out. When that man found me in the woods, I thought he might be a random passerby who could help me. But his lecherous gaze made me feel like he was going to rape me and leave me for dead. Then he said my name, and I knew he was sent by my father. I thought he was there to capture me. And then I found out he was there to kill me.

I really am alone in this world.

My arm stings, and I look at it to see I have a needle in me. I’m hooked up to an IV drip of God knows what. Probably my captor’s piss or spit. My entire body aches, and I’m in more pain than I’ve ever been in before.

The last position I need to be in right now is on my ass, but I can’t move. My father has spanked me every single day that I’ve been in his care, and my last whipping was two days ago with his custom designer leather belt. I’d almost forgotten about the welts when my mystery man smacked my ass with his bare hand just as hard as my dad would.

I need a lot of things, but my priorities are a hot shower, a meal, and painkillers.

The air is muggy and hot, and natural light pours through the wood paneling that surrounds me. I’m outside somewhere. I have to get out and get moving. I thought I’d made an honest deal, but it looks like I’ve been screwed.

I yank at my restraints, trying not to rip the IV out just yet. There’s commotion outside, and then the doors open.

“You’re finally awake. Took you long enough.” My captor stands in front of me wearing a fitted pair of blue jeans with a black tank top and black leather cowboy boots. He wears the same beige hat he was wearing when he found me.

He’s big and strong. Has to be over six feet. Extremely muscular. Like he chops wood all day long and thrives off of raw meat and black market breast milk. His shotgun is still in his right hand, and his piercing blue eyes remind me of my father. The man I hate most in this entire world.

Those blue eyes trail over me suspiciously, and I look down at myself, seeing I’m still naked and filthy. My jaw tenses, and when my face moves, I feel something on my head. He must’ve bandaged me. But he didn’t bother to give me a fucking shirt.

“What do you want from me?” I bark at him, ignoring the chill I get in my bones. The man is terrifying. He’s got shoulder-length straight brown hair that curls at the ends, and he has a generous brown beard and a matching mustache. If he weren’t so menacing, I might find him attractive, but he gives me the fucking creeps.

He approaches me slowly and makes his way over to my IV. “I want the money you promised me, Montana. Money for your freedom.”

I watch him while he does something to the fluids and removes the needle from me gently before covering it with supplies from his pocket. “You won’t get a damn penny if you don’t get your hands off me.”

His blue eyes widen, and he grips me by my throat, causing me to spit and choke. “Listen here, missy. The only thing between the bullet in my gun and your head is my greed. But I’ll have you know, I have a temper. So I suggest you shape the fuck up if you don’t want your brain matter splattered all over this room.”

Oh, I’m fucked. This man is going to torture me and kill me in a brutal way. I can almost feel it. I want to scream for help, but I know no one’s near. I’m stuck here.

And the money. Once I give him that money, I won’t have a damn thing left. But I have to give it to him if I want to see another day.

I look up into his eyes then turn away, seeing my father through them. I try to keep my voice calm and confident although I’m seconds away from pissing myself. “I’ll get you your money. Before the weekend’s out. But I need a shower first.”

He grunts. “Where’s the fucking money? ”

“I have to take you to it. It’s not in the state, but you can have it by tomorrow. I swear. Just let me rinse off.”

He just stares at me, shaking his head while he mutters something I don’t make out.

Desperation takes over me while I clench my fists. “Please. Could you have a little mercy?”

The man looks me over again, and I can’t make out his expression. He could be turned on or disgusted, and I wouldn’t be able to tell the difference. One of his strong hands grips my right ankle, and he glares at me. “One shower. But if you try to run, I swear to you, Montana, there will be no warning. I’ll shoot you immediately.”

One thing I’ve always been able to do is tell when someone’s bluffing. This man is definitely not. As much as I want to run, I know I won’t get away if I try. I tilt my chin up and nod my head slowly. “I swear. I won’t go anywhere.”

He takes a deep breath, slinging his gun over his shoulder while he unchains me. I reach for my ankles, needing to rub them for relief, but he yanks my wrist, dragging me to the edge of the bed on my knees. “Slow movements. Don’t make me concerned.”

My tears start to fall, and I brush them away with my unrestrained hand. “I’m sorry. I’m just in pain. ”

He looks me up and down, refusing to acknowledge my statement, and lets me go. “Get up. Walk outside slowly.”

I force my way up on my aching limbs, and I step out of the open shed. The light from outside blinds me and makes my head pound, and I stand in an open field, feeling more exposed than I’d like.

As if he can sense my thoughts, my warden pushes me forward slowly, keeping his hand on the center of my back. “No one can see you. Nearest house is thirty miles.”

We walk slowly up to a massive brick house, and we head toward what appears to be the front of it. When we reach the steps up to the porch, the man scoops me up into his arms, showing me a side I didn’t expect him to have.

Knowingly, he looks down at me and scoffs. “Don’t you dare for a second think I give a damn about you. I don’t want you tracking dirt into my house.”

Of course. There’s no way a man who threatened to cap me several times would care about me. He shakes my body and gives it a light squeeze. “Wrap your fucking arms around me. If you fall, I’m not picking you back up.”

I do as I’m told, draping my aching arm that was IV’ed over his broad shoulders, and I loop my other arm around his front, feeling his pounding heart under his warm chest.

When we get to the second floor, he leads me to the end of the hallway into what appears to be his bedroom. I glance around quickly before he takes me in the bathroom, setting me down on my feet. “You want a bath or a shower?”

I look up at the man who fishes soap from under his dual vanity sink and grabs a white towel from his linen closet and a washcloth. “I’m not sure. I’ll figure it out. Thanks.”

He shakes his head, rubbing his beard. I can’t tell if he’s thirty or fifty. He could easily be both. “I’m not going anywhere, Montana.”

I cross my arms, trying to cover my generous breasts but fail, only bringing more attention to them as they hang over my arms. “I’m not going to bathe while you stand by watching me like some pervert.”

He raises a brow, stepping close enough that I can feel his body heat. “You’ll wash up in front of me, or I’ll send you to your father in a coffin before I have lunch. You pick.”

He’s really serious. I bite my wobbling lip and smooth back my damp, tangled hair. “Could you at least turn around?”

He chuckles, and I get my very first glimpse at his teeth. Straight, white, and plentiful. There isn’t the slightest chip or flaw. He takes off his hat, setting it on the counter. “Turn around and what? Give you the chance to knock me over the head? I don’t fucking think so. ”

I guess he has no reason to trust me. Still, this is beyond uncomfortable. But I guess it’s better than dying.

He sits in one of the vanity chairs. “Shower or bath?”

I roll my eyes, hating the way he speaks to me like I’m some unruly child. He stands up, smoothing back his thick brown hair. “Fine. You’ll do both since you want to give me the fucking silent treatment. You smell bad enough for both.” He walks around me, still keeping me in his line of sight while he gets the shower going. “Get in, and you’ll get in the bath after.”

I step into the glass chamber while he slides the door closed behind me, watching me through it. I try to remove my bandage, but he kicks the glass while he sits in front of it. “Don’t mess with it. I’ll change it in a bit. Scrub good but don’t take all damn day.”

Reaching for the fresh cloth on the hook in front of me, I grab the bar of lavender soap off the metal shower caddy and scrub it along the fabric, trying to get it to lather. My fingers sting when the soap seeps into my broken skin, but I ignore it. What matters more to me right now is that I’m finally washing myself of the stench from my father’s imprisonment.

My legs still ache from my trek and bruises, and my ass burns from its punishment, but the warm water brings me the slightest bit of relief, and I bask in it, not knowing when my next shower will be after this one.

I want to wash my hair, but it’s not an ideal time to do so with the front of my head wrapped and no products fit for my hair, so I just turn my back to the water, trying to rinse the grime from my strands that got there during my struggle with the man I don’t know and the musty bed he tied me to.

I try not to focus on his presence, but I can feel him watching me. I don’t look at him, but his eyeballs are still there.

Turning back around, I face the water again, letting it rinse me off once more before I start to scrub my skin slowly. The cloth is soft, clean, and delicate, but the suds are torturous in my wounds. No longer able to fight my curiosity, I allow myself to look at the mystery man again, and his eyes are as sharp as daggers.

His jaw tightens, and his throat bobs when he swallows while I clutch the soaked cloth to my chest that’s now stained with blood. I want to let my eyes travel lower to see if he’s getting off on this, but I’m scared to. He might take that as an invitation to get in here with me, and I don’t want that .

I could use a few more minutes in here, but my confidence is starting to wear off under the microscope I’m being observed through. “I’m ready for my bath now.”

The man stands up, taking a step closer to the glass. “You’ll get your bath when you wash behind your ears and between your ass.”

He licks his pink lips while he grimaces at me. Avoiding his gaze, I focus on his tan shoulders while I raise the cloth to my neck, sliding it over my skin softly while I work it around the sides of my face.

Now for my ass.

I slide the cloth lower and hold it over my pubic area that he’s already got a good look at. I don’t keep it bare, but my bush is a little bushier than I prefer. Luckily, it gives me the slightest bit of privacy, but it brings me embarrassment too.

He crosses his arms, causing his thick strands to slide off his shoulders and behind his back. “Ass. Do it, or I’ll do it for you.”

Okay, that’s too much. “Fine.” Turning to the side, I slip the cloth between my cheeks, cleaning myself where I desperately need it. Before I can pull the cloth back out, he goes back to the sink, digging under the drawers while he takes things out.

“Stay in there until I tell you to come out. ”

I glance at the shotgun, not willing to test him, and once I’ve rinsed off for the millionth time, I wait patiently while he runs me a bath.

He doesn’t use soap, but I’m grateful because I’m clean now, and it hurts like a bitch. I ring my hair out that clings to my neck and collarbones at the same time he looks at me again, taking his seat by the sink. “Come here.”

Pulling the glass door back, I step onto the wicker bath mat before tracking my wet feet across the glossy tile floor. The stranger holds out his hand for me, but I ignore it, stepping into the tub.

I wince as soon as my feet touch the water, and I jump out, nearly falling flat on my face when I do. “Jesus!”

He wrangles me, shoving me back in the water. “I know. It’s freezing cold. Don’t fucking complain. I hate complainers.”

Letting him have control, I grit my teeth while my body sinks below the surface with just my head floating on top.

I wrap my arms around my knees, pulling them close to try and warm myself up and bring myself comfort. “What’s your name?”

He flares his nostrils and turns his face away from me.

I’ve put up with enough of his shit. Not caring about the gun in my face, I splash water at him, making him look at me. “What’s your fucking name? If you’re gonna spank me, shove needles in me, and force me to wash my ass in front of you, I think I have the right to know your goddamn name.”

At that, he looks at me with a raised brow and laughs. “Not very ladylike, are you?”

My mouth flies open, and I clench my fists that are going numb under my ice plunge. “Nope. I’m only a lady around gentlemen.”

Gripping the barrel of his weapon with his left hand, he looks me in the eyes again. “Blackheart.”

I would’ve guessed Hunter. Or Garret. He looks like he could be a Garret. “That your last name?”

He scratches his chin, shaking his head. “Nickname.”

My kidnapper is nicknamed Blackheart. He’s speaking to me, and he hasn’t shot me. He might be able to help me after all if I can keep this going. “What’s your real name? Your first name?”

He puffs out his chest and rests his elbows on his knees. “None of your goddamn business.”

My heart rate starts to slow while my body adjusts to the cool liquid that soothes me. “Are you always this much of an asshole?”

“I try to be.” His eyes dart down into the water, looking at my peaked nipples. Perv. “Where are we headed to?”

You’re the fucking kidnapper. Aren’t you supposed to tell me? “I’m not sure I know what you mean.”

He grips the side of the tub, getting the tips of his fingers wet. He has faded tattoos on his knuckles, and he wears a ring on his right ring finger. “To get the money you owe me. You said it wasn’t here. We’ll go get it in the morning. I need to know where we’re headed.”

I close my eyes and cover my face, groaning internally. Morning? That means I have to stay the night here. And it’s going to be a long drive. There’s no way he’ll take us there by plane. I really am going to spend the entire weekend with this man. “Arizona.”

He spits in the water, making my eyes spring open.

“Arizona? We have to go to Arizona , Montana?”

I glance at his glob of moisture that floats on the surface of my bath. “Yeah. It’s where the money is.” I’ve been storing it there over the years without my father’s knowledge. A little bit at a time. And when I give it to Mr. Blackheart, I won’t have more than a few hundred dollars left.

He stands up, towering over me in the tub. “We’ll leave at four in the morning. And if I find out you’re lying to me—”

“I know—you’ll shoot me.”

He kneels before the tub, bringing his face inches from mine. I freeze when he grips the back of my head, wrapping his fingers in my damp hair. “No, little fox. If you’re lying to me, I’m going to kill you slowly. You’ll feel pain you never imagined while I drain the life from your weak and bruised body.”