12. Amy

12

AMY

N ik stayed away all night. He left me there not for an hour or so, but well into the middle of the night.

Confused, hurt, and still so very afraid, I felt trapped and intimidated.

I got up after crying for a while, debating whether this privacy and isolation could be too good to be true. After being captured and transported, it was difficult to assume I had any control of my life. I didn't. I knew I didn't just as I knew the panel on this door wouldn't magically spring open.

But I refused to sit and be idle. I scanned the entire apartment, praying for a weapon. For a tool. A phone. Anything at all that would enable me to protect myself when anyone came upon me again.

I doubted Nik would leave me in here to rot. Despite the clear, undeniable evidence that he was a brutal killer, he had yet to show me any intention of pain. He'd washed my leg. He'd fucked me just the way I'd instinctively needed him to. I didn't have the bandwidth to comprehend why he'd wanted to fill me with his cock so suddenly like that, but it wasn't done out of evil. He hadn't raped me, not when I'd been so needy for his touch. And he didn't fuck me to manipulate me into doing anything else.

He'd lusted for me. And left.

I had no clue what he had in mind for me, but it seemed that my gut reaction to his departure was wrong. I'd jumped to the assumption that he'd gotten his fill and would let one of his friends or coworkers have their turn with me. That they would, in fact, sample me as the man at that warehouse threatened.

No one came in here, though. All night, I paced and searched, torn with this ragged sense of suspenseful anticipation.

I gave up in the end, exhausted.

After snacking on an apple and some buttered bread, I swallowed it down with a glass of milk and headed to the couch. Sleeping in the bed where he'd taken me and abandoned me felt wrong. I didn't want the reminders, nor could I stomach the guilt and self-loathing that I'd given in to him so damn easily. Yes, he was hot. Sure, he knew how to fuck me good and well. For God's sake, he'd been on my mind since that one night when he'd met me. He'd certainly made an impression on me, mind and body. Yet I couldn't deal with the more recent memories of how he'd taken me earlier.

I woke up after a restless sleep. The couch was comfortable enough. I'd been raised to appreciate any bedding, and even though this piece of furniture was slightly lumpy on one side but too stiff on the other—implying only one person ever sat on it and always chose the same spot—it was firm and secure.

Nausea was my alarm clock. That gut-wrenching churn was all the premonition my half-awake mind needed to bolt upright and run.

I barely made it to the bathroom on time, and when I smelled the fruity scent of the plug-in air freshener puffing out, I gagged more and produced even more bile .

Smells bothered me, scents that never before would have made a difference. And it was the last straw. I was, like any other woman, aware of the most common symptoms, but at work, when I was last at work, I'd researched all the potential signs of pregnancy.

I slumped over to sit on the bathroom floor. Getting out of this room and not smelling that air freshener would've been heaven, but I lacked the energy to move after all that heaving. Besides, I wasn't sure that spell was over. Just as well that I stay close to the toilet.

Rubbing my stomach and closing my eyes, I rested my head back against the wall.

I revisited the memory of reading that list on the vet clinic's computer.

Nausea. Check .

Fatigue. Check .

Cranky and irritable. Check . I wasn't in a rosy situation, but even before I was kidnapped, everything seemed to piss me off in a PMS sort of way.

Lack of appetite. Check .

Faster heart rate and feeling short of breath. Mostly check .

Finding smells off-putting. Huge double-check .

Instead of freaking out at the very likely possibility that I was pregnant, I sniffled and mourned the life I once knew. Nothing would be the same ever again.

Before, I was a single woman, working and trying hard to keep afloat of debt while only having to worry about myself.

Now, after Nik, after being kidnapped, I had so much more on my shoulders .

Becoming a mother and having to focus on a new life. Getting over the trauma of being taken and almost sold to that pervy Diego. Recovering from the horror of seeing so much death.

I had no idea what could come next. Nik hadn't returned, but I knew that he, or someone from his ‘family business', would. It made no sense otherwise. If they wanted to sell me, then I would have been taken away with the other women, right? If they only wanted to end up killing me, they wouldn't have waited. All I could take as a fact was that they did not seem inclined to release me.

The locks on the front door began to unclick, and I opened my eyes. Jerking my head from the wall, I blinked and hurried to get up. Someone was coming, and I didn't want them to find me weak and vulnerable on the bathroom floor.

If it was Nik, I didn't want him to see me sickly and worried like this. He was the father of this baby. I didn't need tests to know. My heart and soul knew. I was carrying a baby, and he was the father.

But I vowed then and there to never let him know. He didn't need to know. I didn't want my baby to have a killer or a thug for a father. As I hurried out of the bathroom and checked that the shirt and pants I'd found and pulled on were covering me, though baggy, and the sandals were as secure as the adjustable straps could allow, I felt decent.

I would get out of this situation. I found no weapons or a phone to use here, but I would. I wasn't only thinking of my survival, I had to do the best I could for my baby.

Nik entered, eyeing me up and down for a long, silent moment. I crossed my arms, unsure what he expected of me, but he didn't seem annoyed with my defiant smirk.

"Ready?"

I blinked, lowering my arms. "Ready for what?"

"We're leaving. "

I frowned as he came close, reaching for my hand.

"Do you prefer the rope again?"

I dropped my jaw. "No!"

"Then… let's get out of here."

"No. Just let me go."

He shook his head, sighing like he was disappointed. Reaching up to his neck, he began to loosen his tie. "Turn around."

"No!"

"Don't talk back, Amy."

"Don't tell me what to do, Nik," I spat as he spun me around.

The fabric of his tie brushed over my face, and I scowled as he tied it tight. Darkness had me disoriented, and I almost wished I'd gone with letting him cuff me again. Taking away my sight was worse, and dizzy with the clumsiness of not knowing where I was going as he roughly took my hand and pulled me after him, I worried I'd get nauseated and puke once more. Letting Nik see me sick would be fine, but I wanted to avoid anything that could make him suspect I might be pregnant.

"Where am I going?" I asked. Fear crept into my voice. I'd almost convinced myself that he wouldn't hurt me, but I couldn't know for sure whether he would prevent others from doing so. I just didn't know what was going on. At all! It infuriated me, and with that anger, my trepidation increased. The realization that I was fighting for myself and my baby was still clear in my mind, and it changed everything. Every word I said. Every action I completed.

"Somewhere else," he replied dryly.

The blindfold spoke volumes. He wouldn't tell me where he wanted to transport me if he didn't want me to see the way there .

"Why can't you just release me?"

No reply as the kiss of the outside air touched my face. No sounds came, and I knew we had to be in that overground parking garage we'd pulled into last night. I doubted anyone was near to hear me if I called for help, and what would that do, anyway? Nik was a killer. He'd end any innocent bystander.

"I can't."

I shook my head as I sat in the car's seat. "Please. You had your fun last night. I won't tell anyone I saw you. I don't even know who you are."

He started the car and grunted. "I told you my name."

"Yeah, after lying about it before."

"I need to maintain stealth for occupational hazards."

I smirked behind the blindfold. What the hell did that mean? It was a wordy answer that was intended to reveal nothing.

Fear remained strong, and I couldn't swallow enough to dislodge the clump of panic I felt suffocating me. Being moved was bad. I recalled from self-defense classes back in junior high that the chances of rescue were reduced with multiple moves.

"I want to go home."

"Which home is that? Huh?"

I gaped in the direction of his voice. "Are you mocking me?"

"I looked for you. You weren't at the apartment you brought me to that night."

I refused to let the thought of his missing me and seeking me out fill me with anything good. I didn't care. I couldn't care if he'd missed me after our night together. He was bad news, and my baby and I couldn't stick with him .

"I moved, not that it was any of your business." I groaned, shaking my head.

"What?"

"I didn't pay rent on my new place." I did the math. I had been taken for two days now? When I'd tried to deal with my bills before my work shift the other day, the online payment site was glitching and I figured I'd try it later—as in yesterday. "It was really hard to even get that place with the waitlist. And now I'll lose it."

"You're not going home."

I didn't want to accept that. I'd struggled with the identity crisis in the bathroom. The before and after. I'd never go back to my little crappy apartment again. It wasn't nice, but it was decent. There, I had my freedom and independence, privacy and the knowledge that the space was mine alone.

"I'll lose my job," I said, letting the thought hit me.

"So what?"

"I… I…" I bit my lip to stem the urge to scream. I'd busted my ass for the little I had. I did everything I could to take advantage of every opportunity that came to me, and now he was taking it all away.

I'd never see the animals again. I'd never have little breaks from dealing with customers to go play in the puppy room. I won't see Missy and enjoy our inside jokes about our coworkers. Nothing. My life was…

He stopped. I'd been so sucked into my mind and worrying that I had no clue how long he'd driven for, but I tried to pay attention now as he guided me out. His hand was firm in mine but not with a painful grip. I knew better than to try to run, and I followed him through another building, stepping on carpet instead of concrete and walking up steps that had handrails.

"You'll be safe here," he said .

I huffed. "Like I'll take your word for that."

"Why?"

I shook my head, stumbling on a step and hating how quickly he caught me.

"Because you're a liar. Nothing but a liar. And a criminal. A thug."

We walked on. "Believe what you want of me."

"It's not a matter of believing. I saw . I heard. You told me you were another man. You—Why did you follow me at that club? You stalked me in that alley, didn't you?"

"Where you kissed me back? Yeah, that was me."

I shook my head, aggravated. "Why? Why all the lies? Why all the duplicity and all this?—"

He opened a door and gently pushed me to enter a room so he could close the door. I felt the whoosh of air and heard the swish of the bottom of the door pulling over plush carpet.

"I'll never believe or trust a word you say, Nik. You hear me?" I stood still, straining to hear or smell something. Anything. Without my sight, I had to rely on all my other senses.

"I wasn't lying the whole time," he said huskily as he came up behind me and yanked the blindfold off. "You didn't remove it."

I didn't reply. I couldn't have, but I was too scared to invoke his wrath or anger him.

A gorgeous, luxurious suite awaited me, and I blinked to make sure I wasn't imagining this. Plush white carpet spread over the richly decorated yet masculine suite. Dark browns and clean, minimalistic details. An enormous bed stood in the next room from this gentleman's parlor .

He'd brought me to another universe, a world so foreign to me that I struggled to understand. Was this his home? A five-star hotel?

"Why not?" he asked, rubbing his hard hands over my shoulders and kneading the muscles there.

I closed my eyes and almost leaned back against him. It felt so good, erasing all the knots of tension, but I thought back to what he'd asked. The blindfold. Why I hadn't removed it since my hands were free. "I didn't want to anger you."

"Or could it be that—despite the lies—you trust me?" He lowered his mouth to the side of my neck, kissing softly there as he lowered his arms to hug me flush to him.

"No," I protested, weakened by the action of his sucking my earlobe into his hot mouth.

"Because I wasn't lying the whole time." He slipped his hand beneath the waistband of these baggy pants, quickly rubbing his palm over my mound.

"Oh, God." He knew exactly how to make me wet. I jerked at the delicious touch, wanting more friction, and parted my legs slightly.

"I'm not lying at all when I want you, just like this." He sucked harder on my earlobe, tugging it and sending sparks of electric need from that erogenous zone. I let my head tilt to the side, giving him more access. When he brought his other hand up to roughly cup my breast and squeeze it, I fought the urge to clamp my hand over his and encourage him to play with my nipple, too.

"Because I do want you, Amy." He slid his hand lower in my pants, dipping two fingers over my cream and smearing it back and forth. "I shouldn't." He pushed his long digits into me and growled, "but I can't stop craving you."

I breathed hard, giving up on words. He was the devil, too damned good at turning my body against me. All I could do was let go and ignore the doubts and worries. I tuned out the nagging voice that warned me to resist, to be strong and not fall down this path with him again, but I didn't. Reaching up as he fingered me, I curved my hand over his head and wished his hair were long enough for me to grip it.

"Please," I begged on an exhale.

He growled, pushing me forward through this posh suite. I slammed into the bed and fell, but he didn't permit any space between us. Shoving me forward, his hands on my hips, he both yanked down my pants and prompted me to get on my knees.

I gasped at the sudden movement, but when he grabbed my hips again and lifted my ass into the air, I couldn't do anything more than squeak in alarm.

Then his mouth was there. Right on my pussy. He held me up as he lowered to lick his tongue from my clit to my entrance, then back again.

"Oh, fuck…" I dragged out a moan. I dripped. I throbbed. My nipples rubbed against the mattress, furthering this exquisite pleasure.

"I want you so fucking bad, Amy," he growled as he retreated to shove his fingers back into my needy pussy.

"I want you , goddammit."

"Then take me." I sobbed it, hating myself for wanting him just as much.

He cursed again, something that sounded like Russian, and he smashed his face to my pussy again.

Just as my legs began to quiver, from both the angle of his holding me up and being face down, an orgasm hurtled close. Tension climbed. My pussy was slick with his saliva and my cream. Aching pressure zinged in my clit, and I trembled with the force of his tongue lapping and sucking at me .

"Nik!"

I froze, startled that someone else was near. Instead of thinking logically, of calling out for help, I remained quiet, wanting to push my ass up and get his mouth back on my pussy.

Somone banged their fists on the door.

"Nik! Niko? Come on!"

More bangs.

He went still, stepping back and letting me drop to the bed.

No!

"Harrow's is on fire!" The man shouted it but didn't linger. Footsteps pounded away out in the hallway. They must have trusted Nik to heed that alarm without further explanation.

So close to coming, I struggled to make sense of how and why he'd stopped. It was cruel to be left hanging like this, but I tried to shove the disappointment and frustration aside as I curled to lie on my side and face him.

Harrow's? The strip club he'd noticed me at? On fire? What's that got to do with ? —

I licked my lips, catching my breath. "What… Where…"

He shook his head, wiping his mouth as he backed up to the door. "You're staying in here. Understand?"

I didn't have a chance to reply. He ran out, and I heard the click of the lock.

Left alone—and confused—once again.