Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

JAMIE

I'd barely registered the face that loomed at me when the boot lid opened, but when he spoke, I knew it belonged to the rich voice guy. It was deep, and he spoke softly. I didn't feel threatened, but I was still in a deep state of arousal, slightly aware that I was being disturbed and wishing it could continue. When he asked if that was what I wanted, I couldn't believe it. I could only nod. Then he reached out, and I tried to back away from him. I didn't want touching right now. It was clumsy, but he didn't force it, and seemed upset that he'd caused me to recoil. But he soon left me, and I'm thankful I didn't have to see that Glynn guy, who'd knocked me out.

Back in the darkness, when clarity of thought comes easier, I reflect on the kindness of the stranger. It was like he understood me; he didn't back away, force me out, or even look at me in disgust. Quite the opposite, and for the first time in my life, I felt seen.

That realisation tumbles in my head along with the fact that he's a stranger and I'll likely never see him again. Those thoughts crash into the situation of the last twenty-four hours. The initial excitement of a good weekend, followed by the uneasiness that quickly turned to fear that led to me being out in the forest with no money and a dead phone battery. Then a kidnapping, albeit a fake one, and an unexpected high from being aroused. It's suddenly all too much. A wave of emotion tides through me and I'm powerless to do anything to stop its progress. Tears roll down my face. Weeping makes my nose run, and the sight of me, wet-faced and snivelling, is what greets the poor stranger when he opens the boot once more.

He still doesn't back away.

"Hey, it's alright." His voice is like a balm to my soul. "Everything is going to be fine. I just need to get you inside, okay?" I nod through the tears that are still falling, though the sobs wracking my body have subsided.

He deftly picks me up and gently carries me into one of the lodges. I briefly consider that this might be a bad idea, but as I'm bound, there's nothing I can do about it, and he hasn't given me any cause for concern.

He sets me down on the bed so I'm sitting, and takes a little step back. His height is looming, and I look up at him, seeing nothing but kindness. He gives a tiny smile and then frowns and crouches in front of me, as if he's realised how big he is and how it might be threatening.

"Hi, I'm Victor. I'm going to remove the gag and restraints now, if that's okay?"

I nod and receive the tiny, kind smile again. A kernel of awareness lodges deep in me that this guy knows what to do. Anyone else, on finding a stranger bound, would rush to untie them. But somehow, he understands, and a rush of gratitude flows through me.

He unties the gag first and I work my jaw. My throat is dry and papery. While that's not unusual, the dry boot of the car has made it worse. He quickly unties my hands and feet and I rub at my wrists. He retreats to a chair a few feet away and I feel small and alone.

It takes a while for me to find my voice, and when I do, I croak.

"Could I have a drink?"

His eyes widen, and he scowls slightly, but I don't think it's at me.

"Yes, of course. Sorry, I should have thought of that."

He goes to a small kitchen area and I glance around the cabin. There's not much, except a large bed, a drawer unit and closet, a couple of chairs, and a small table. To one side is a kitchen area, and across the room is a door, which I assume is a bathroom.

Victor holds a glass of water and I take it, downing it in one go. When I hand it back, he gives an approving nod.

"Do you need any more?"

I shake my head, and he takes the glass away.

"What's your name, cutie?"

I like him calling me cutie, but I answer, "It's Jamie."

"You don't live here, right?" I ask him. It certainly doesn't look like anyone would live here.

"No," Victor chuckles. "I've just been renting it for the week. I live in London."

"Me too."

"What are you doing out here, hitchhiking?"

At the memory of last night, the tears spill over again and sobs wrack through me. The bed dips a second before strong arms encircle me. I lean into the warm embrace; it feels safe and comforting. He doesn't speak, but gently strokes my back.

When the sobs subside and my tears dry, I push back, and immediately he relaxes his hold, but doesn't release me completely.

"I'm sorry. I seem to have snotted all over your shirt." I point to a damp patch on his chest.

"It's fine," he huffs. "How are you feeling?"

I sigh. "Better, thank you. I'm sorry you seem to have landed with me. I can go now." I glance around. I don't want to leave, and I don't have anywhere to go, but I feel bad taking up any more of this stranger's time. This handsome, strong, kind stranger.

"It's fine." He pushes away a lock of hair that's stuck to my forehead and smiles. "Now then, cutie, what's your story?"

I must look a sight, with bloodshot eyes and a snotty nose, and he called me cutie. He must need his eyes tested.

I drop my eyes. I don't want to admit my embarrassment about what happened with Aiden. I give him the shortened version.

"It was a date weekend gone wrong, so I left, but I didn't get the chance to pick up my bag or my wallet. Then my phone died."

His face looks menacing when I tell my story, but somehow I don't think it's directed at me, so I carry on. "If I could charge my phone, I can get my train tickets up and get home..."

"Sure, we can charge it for you to go home, but you said London, right? If you want, I can drive you back tomorrow. If you don't mind staying."

I look round the cabin, at the one bed. Oh. But then he doesn't feel at all like Aiden. I imagine if I ask him to sleep in the chair, he probably would. Would I want that? I guess we could share. I'm getting ahead of myself. Who would want a sorry sight like me to stay?

"Don't decide now," Victor says, and I realise I haven't answered him.

"I don't want to put you through any trouble." I cling to the hope he'll say it's alright and my tension eases when he says it will be.

"First though, we have to go back to the training centre."

"What training centre?"

Victor heaves a big sigh.

"I'm sorry about what happened to you. It was a case of mistaken identity and Glynn going over the top," Victor explains. "I'm on a training course in close personal protection. This was supposed to be simulating a kidnapping situation. Not the actual taking part, except Glynn, well, you know..."

I nod, and he continues.

"We weren't expecting anyone to be hitchhiking, so we thought you were our contact. We soon realised our mistake when we came across the right guy. We aborted the training operation then. I dropped the others off at the training centre and brought you here so you could have time to compose yourself. I didn't think you'd want to be hauled out, still bound, in front of everyone. But we do have to go back there, to the training centre. They want to formally apologise, and I think they're scared you might press charges."

"Press charges?" I echo him, confused at what he means.

"You were kidnapped and knocked out. That's assault."

"Oh!" I hadn't thought about that. I guess perhaps I could, but I wouldn't get very far if they found out that I was also getting off on the experience.

"What would happen to you?"

Victor shrugs. "I'm pretty sure I've failed the training course after this fuck up. It could be bad for the training centre, though. They might have to close."

"I don't think I'd like to be the cause of that, and I'm perfectly fine now," I reply. More than fine, if meeting Victor can be counted in that.

"Thank you. Much as I'd like to see Glynn charged with something—he's nothing but a thug—I'm pleased that the training centre won't suffer from our mistake."

"I'm sorry you'll fail, though. Will you lose your job? Are you a bodyguard?" I can just imagine Victor being a bodyguard. I'd feel safe with him by my side. I wonder who he works for.

"Not exactly. I head up the security team at a club in London. Lawrence, that's my boss, thought it would be a good training course for me."

A few pieces of a puzzle slide into place. He mentioned a club, Lawrence, and he did recognise that I needed help.

"What club?" I hold my breath, waiting for his answer. Surely it can't be . . .

"The Chain Reaction."

"That's the one where I met Aiden!" I exclaim excitedly, delighted that we have something in common. But Victor's face darkens.

"Is he the one who you were meeting this weekend?"

"Yes," I reply. I feel even safer with Victor now, as I'm sure Lawrence's staff are very well vetted. As he's a part of the kink scene, I tell him a bit more—not everything though, especially not my kink. I'm too cautious, even for that.

"He sounds like a right bastard," Victor says grimly when I've finished. "I'm sorry you met him at our club." I hadn't noticed that Victor's hand had stayed on my lower back, and while I was telling my story he'd started stroking me again. It's soothing and I lean into it a bit more. I'm sad when it stops.

"I'm sorry," he says. "We do need to go to the training centre before they phone me. They might think I've abducted you." He gives a grim smile.

"Okay." I don't want to go anywhere. I want to stay here with Victor's hands on me, but I try not to think like that. It's a dangerous path to walk, as I know anything along those lines will only get so far before I have to tell them how it works for me. However, I feel like Victor might be different. But anyway, he might have a partner, so I agree, killing any other thoughts I might have. "Can I charge my phone?"

"Yes, of course, you can leave it charging. Let me find a cable." He gets up and rummages through a bag before handing me a cable. Once I've plugged it in, I follow him to the door. When he gets there, he turns around. Wow, he's huge—at least a foot taller than me.

He crooks a finger under my jaw and lifts it slightly. My heart starts hammering in my chest. Is he going to kiss me? Argh, my stupid romantic heart. Of course he's not going to kiss me. Why would he? We've only just met, and it's messy.

"Jamie?" My name sounds special, said in his rich voice. Maybe he is going to kiss me, after all. I hold my breath.

"Can I buy you dinner?"

Not a kiss, though almost as good as I haven't eaten since yesterday.

"Yes," I squeak, which is all I can do with no air in my lungs.

His smile is brief, as if he doesn't do it often and isn't sure how it looks. It looks beautiful to me and I wonder if I can make him do it more.