ARRESTED: A Stepbrother Cop Romance (12 page)

15

CORY

"Didn't your parents tell you your face would
freeze like that?" Simons asks me.

I glare at him but school my face into a more neutral
expression. The muscle in my jaw aches from me clenching it so much. We're
sitting in the squad car and to say that I'm pissed would be an understatement.
I want to be out there looking for Drew. But as I predicted my sergeant thinks
my connection to Allyson means I can't be objective.

That’s a fucking understatement.

My boss has no idea just how connected I am to
Allyson. How I want to be connected to her right now. I should be with her,
comforting her and taking the time to show her that not all men are like her
ex.

"They might have mentioned it once or
twice," I say.

The boiling anger pumping through me will have no
trouble keeping my face from freezing.

I imagine her crying in bed, tears soaking the same
pillow that her hair had fanned over the previous night. The memory of how
beautiful she looked as she came rushes back to me, immediately making my dick
jerk.

I shouldn’t be thinking about that when I know she’s
hurting but I can’t help it. I know it sounds lame but when I saw those
handcuffs in Allyson’s nightstand, I thought I’d found the perfect woman.
Stunning face, curvy figure, legs to die for, funny and sassy but soft-hearted
too. Our time together had blown me away. Trust my luck that it was my
stepsister-to-be who seemed to have it all.

When you have certain desires, it isn’t necessarily
easy to find someone to share them with. It’s not like you can slip that kind
of thing into a conversation at a bar. “By the way, if we get to fuck later, I’d
like you to tell me you don’t want to, and then I’ll pretend to force you.
 
That okay?”

Shit. I feel all kinds of fucked up.

One day I’m having the best sex of my life, then she
tells me it was a mistake and my world dropped away again. Being given the best
gift I've ever had only to have it snatched away literally stolen the breath
from me.

I sigh when I remember how distressed Allyson was at
the station. Not just how distressed but how guilty and riddled with shame.

When she’d handed the phone over to Detective Jameson,
I hadn’t wanted to look but I couldn’t help myself. As he flipped through the
pictures my cock had twitched and I’d felt sick at myself.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

I rub my hands over my face trying to rub the images
away. Rub the memory of my desire for her away when I saw her like that. What
kind of pervert gets turned on by those kinds of pictures? She's going through
something terrible, something that could ruin her life and probably will ruin
her chosen career, and I was getting turned on.

I know my sexual preferences are warped. I feel like a
degenerate but I can't help the tightening in my pants, the jerk of my cock
when I see a beautiful woman bound and helpless. It's not just the feeling of
control. It's the trust in their eyes. Well, the trust when they like it as
Allyson had.

Not like my last girlfriend. After four months of hot
and heavy dating, I thought it was time to let her know what turned me on. We
were really into it at my place and, seized by the moment, I gripped her hands
behind her back, covered her mouth and whispered what I wanted to do to
her.
 
When her eyes went wide I thought
she was into it but she shook her head, wrenched away from me and told me I was
fucked up.

Maybe I am.

She said it was wrong to want someone to pretend they
didn't want it. She stormed out of my apartment saying she never wanted to see
me again. And I haven't seen her since. Four months of dating down the drain.

I haven’t shown my true self to anyone since, but with
Allyson it had been different. Every second I was with her, taking her, pushing
into her, she rose to meet my thrusts as though she enjoyed it as much as I
did.

Then she'd pulled the carpet out from under me.

"Stop brooding already. Sarge says you can't be
involved so we aren't involved," Simons says.

"Yeah, I know. I just want to be doing something
to help." I slam my hand on the steering wheel, needing to let out some of
my frustration. "He'll do it to someone else if we don't catch him."

"You're right, C, so let the other officers do
their job. At least for now."

"For now,” I say but I know that if I don’t get
word of some progress soon, I won’t be able to stand back anymore.

Simons nods and turns up the radio as a message
crackles through. It’s a report of a break-in on campus. My heart beats faster,
my hands clench until the rest of the message comes through telling us it was a
professor's office.

"At last! Something to take your mind off your
stepsister's troubles."

The way he says stepsister makes me feel even more
perverted.

Simons throws the car into gear and we drive to the
campus. We reach the office in under fifteen minutes. I can tell which one has
been broken into just by looking down the hall. A security guard and an aging
professor wearing a tweed jacket stand in front of a door. The professor looks
agitated, shooting glances into his office every few seconds.

We walk up to the security guard who suddenly stands
to attention.

"What can you tell us?" I ask the guard.

Simons steps inside the office to look around then
comes back out and begins talking to the professor and some students.

"It was reported twenty minutes ago. The door was
clearly tampered with."

"Anyone seen in the area looking
suspicious?"

The guard shakes his head. "A few students in the
halls. The professor keeps office hours. Some wait for him in the lounge."
He points down the hall to an area that looks like a living room.

"Thanks. Stay here for now," I say and walk
over to Simons who is now talking to the students.

When he's done he flips his notebook closed. "Not
much to go on really. He'll get back to us if he discovers anything
missing."

"Guard didn't have a lot either. We can check
back later. Probably a prank. Maybe a fraternity hazing."

We head back to the squad car. The memory of Allyson's
distraught face tugs at me. I need to see that she's okay. After all, she's
been through, she needs all the friends she can get and no matter what, I want
to be there for her.

"Can we swing by Allyson's dorm?"

"C, you heard what Sarge said. The case is off
limits."

"This isn't about the case. I want to make sure
she's okay. Come on, it's just on the other side of campus. She’s gonna be
family soon." I say the last bit so he listens to me but it makes me feel
sick to think of her that way.

"Fine. But don't tell Sarge I drove."

"If he finds out I'll tell him I wrestled the
keys away from you and forced you to come along."

Simons grinned. "Like you'd ever be able to get
the keys from me."

He dangles them in the air and I reach for them. He
yanks them back then swings them around his finger, laughing. If I didn’t love
him like a brother, I’d be knocking him out right now.

We get in the car and he tromps on the gas. When we
pull up in front of Allyson's dorm, I sit and think for a moment about what I'm
going to say to her. At the station, I had to be calm. I had to be
professional. Now all I want to do is pull her into my arms, smooth her hair
and hold her tight. I want to reassure her that everything will be okay. She
has her mom and friends for that but I want her to know I'm on her side, too.

"I'll wait here. Don't be long."

"Relax. Sarge isn't going to find out."

Simons kills the engine. I jog up the stairs to the
building. Someone is leaving and I reach out a hand to catch the door before it
closes and locks behind them, but when they see the uniform they hold the door
for me. I smile my thanks and hurry up the stairs to Allyson's room.

Will she be happy to see me? Angry? After what she
said, would she ever want to see me again outside of family obligations?

I hesitate in front of her door. Maybe Simons is right
and I should let someone else handle this. I should walk away and concentrate
on my other cases right now. I can shadow Detective Jameson at the station and
swipe the files if I have to so I can stay up to date on the case. If she
doesn't want to see me I don't know how I'll handle that.

I tell myself to get a grip. This is police business.
If Allyson doesn't want to see me, I'll tell her I’m there in an official
capacity and stay long enough to make sure she's fine. No harm, no foul.

I knock tentatively on the door. At the lightest touch
the door swings open. A horrible feeling settles in the pit of my stomach. A
plant lies on the floor in front of her desk. My gaze sweeps across the room
and settles on Allyson's purse on the floor by her bed. I step into the room a
little farther. Her coat still rests on a hook by the door. There's a line in
the carpet beneath my feet as though something had been dragged.

My heart pounds as I grab my radio. I should have made
sure someone would be with her at all times. I thought her friend would have
stayed with her while she was so upset.

Even as I curse myself I know it’s futile. It’s too
late now. I would never have suspected Drew would take her by force. My cop
instinct has let me down, but not anymore. I’m going to make sure Detective
Jameson knows what’s happened and a proper man-hunt is started. This isn’t
stupid college student revenge anymore.

This is an abduction.

I grab my radio and call it in. Before I'm finished
giving the details to the dispatcher Simons arrives at the door.

“Fuck,” he says loudly, smacking his hand on the door.

“This shit ends now,” I roar. “Sarge can go fuck
himself. I’m on this case whether he wants me there or not.”

16

ALLYSON

Consciousness slides over me slowly like the rising of
the sun, except there is no light, only a growing awareness. My body seems
behind my mind. I try to shift but nothing moves. When I find the strength to
open my eyes I find that the room I'm in is dark. I squint into the blackness
trying to make out shapes; anything to tell me where I am.

The last thing I remember is opening my door and then
horrible pain, the feeling of falling but I don't remember hitting the ground
or how I got here.

The room smells odd; chemically and musty. Instead of
the throbbing pain I expect, my head is woozy like I've had a few too many
drinks, but I don't remember drinking anything. My face feels strange, almost
numb.

Even though I can't see anything I know I'm not in my
room anymore. It feels different. The air feels different. The smell alone sets
off alarm bells and, like a huge tsunami-sized wave, panic begins to rise.

As sleep fades further, my current state dawns on me.
I'm lying on my stomach, with the right side of my face pressed into a pillow.
The pillow is damp under my cheek as though I've been drooling. Embarrassed, I
yank my hand intending to wipe my mouth but my hand doesn't move. Something’s
encircling my wrist and it digs into my flesh as I pull harder. I pull on the
other hand only to be met with the same resistance.

I'm somewhere, in the dark, lying on a lumpy bed with
my hands tied to either side of me.

I can't turn over.

I can't get my bearings in the near perfect blackness.
My heart races as I realize how helpless I am. Everything is spiraling out of
control, as unknown danger presses in on me from pitch black corners.

I raise my head off the pillow slightly and blink
several times, trying to clear the fuzziness in my eyes away. My neck is stiff
and the room is still so dark I that can't see the outline of any furniture or
tell if anyone is there lurking in the shadows.

Desperate to get away from where ever I am and whoever
has brought me here, I pull on my bindings again, hoping for a little give. It
seems stupid to hope that they weren't tied properly and I'll be able to wrench
my hands free, but that doesn’t stop me from trying. The rope digs in deeper,
bruising my already damaged wrists and holding my hands firmly.

I try to pull my legs up at least so I can curl up
into a ball for protection but my feet are tied to the end of the bed.

I try to open my mouth to scream but my jaw feels
bruised too and the inside is dry as cotton. I still don’t have full use of my
body but I scream on the inside, as my mind begins to play out horrible
scenarios; unknown men lurking in the darkness, the terrible things they might
do to me, the pain that might come with it all.

Tears well in my eyes making them even more blurry. I
blink, not wanting anything to obstruct my vision in case I might be able to
see a way out. I try to focus on something, anything. If I can just see
something that might tell me where I am.

The gash on my head starts to throb now. The blissful
numbness I encountered upon waking is gone. I might not know where I am but I
know how I got here. Arms caught me when I fell, but whose arms?

As I move again, struggling to get comfortable, I
realize that I still have my clothes on. It’s a relief but short lived. Just
because whoever has kidnapped me hasn’t taken my clothes off, doesn’t mean
they’re not intending to. They’ve tied me up in such a way that leaves me with
no way to defend myself. I'm completely helpless.

I open my mouth to try to scream again and a chuckle
from my left makes my blood run cold. It’s funny how the sounds that make up a
person can affect you differently depending on how you feel about them. The
laugh of a lover can turn into the snigger of a torturer with only a few days
and incidents in between.

I struggle again knowing that the bindings won't give
way. Drew was always so good with knots.

"Do you like it?"

I turn my head in Drew's direction wondering how he
can see me if I can't see him in this blackness. But maybe he didn't know I was
about to scream. Maybe he was finished watching me struggle in vain and wanted
to take my terror up a notch. What the hell does he think he's doing? I knew he
was prepared to use blackmail but kidnapping? The silliness of my worry about
the pictures slams home when I move my hands and the rope cuts even deeper into
my wrists.

Blackmail, while humiliating, wouldn't harm me
physically. This, whatever his plans are for this, scares me more than the
thought of the entire country seeing those pictures.

"Drew, what are you doing?”

“Giving you what you love,” he says and I can’t work
out if his tone is mocking or if he’s trying to sound sexy. The idea that he
might think that this is all part of a silly game between us steals my voice.
Could he actually be that deluded? Even though I’m terrified and trembling I
know I have to try and seem calm. Drew feeds off fear.

“You have to let me go," I say and manage those
five words without my voice breaking or a tear slipping from my eye. In the eye
of the storm, I feel a cold sense of control in me.

"I can't do that Allyson. I did this all for you.
You think you know what’s best for us, but how can you? You don’t want to be in
control, you want me to decide for you. Don’t worry, baby. I know just the way
you like it."

A shiver of fear races through me. Although this isn’t
the first time he’s tied me up, it’s the first time I have felt any fear. But
now I’m so scared I feel like I can’t catch my breath. I struggle in vain
against the bindings again hoping that in his haste to shackle me that he's
made a mistake. Maybe he forgot to pull a knot tight enough or has left me some
room to slip my wrists out like he always did before. With each movement,
though, the rope pulls tighter, digging into my wrists with a biting pain.

“No,” I shout. “I don’t want this.”

“Shhh,” he coos from somewhere closer to the bed. He’s
moved and is now nearer and I strain against the bindings again because he’s
going to touch me, I know it and I can’t stand it. I need to think of something
to say, something that might convince him this is not his best option.

I doubt he ever loved me, so using that angle isn’t
going to get me anywhere. He likes the control as much as I like feeling
helpless. Under the right circumstances, that is. And these are so not the
right circumstances or the right person.

"If you let me go I promise not to tell anyone.
I'm not even angry about the pictures getting leaked."

His humorless laugh raises goose-bumps on my arms.
"I know you went to the police. How could you do that after all we've been
through together?"

"I didn't tell them much. Not enough, I swear.
Let me go and we can forget about all of this," I say.

My eyes still haven't grown accustomed to the dark and
the earlier panic at being blind in a new room threatens to overwhelm me again.
If I can't see where he is, or what he's doing, then I won’t be able to brace
myself for whatever is coming next.

"You told them enough. They're looking for
me."

"We'll tell them it was a prank. That I knew all
along you were going to release the photos and that I consented. I’ll sign a
piece of paper now if you want."

The scrape of his feet against the floor has me on
alert again. I’m trying to work out exactly where he is as the air moves
against my arm. He’s close, looming over me in the shadows but I can’t make out
his features. The bed dips slightly when he sits on the edge and, even though I
know it’s hopeless, I still try to squirm away.

The bindings hold me tightly.

He seems to shift further onto the bed until I can
feel his body touching my hip.

"I need to remind you how good we are
together," he says.

He sounds sane with a hint of insanity floating just
below the surface. “We had some good times, didn’t we?” He doesn’t wait for me
to reply before he carries on his musing. “I know we’ve had our ups and downs,
but all relationships do. I know you’re scared but we can make it work.”

I shiver, realizing that he is totally deluded. He
actually thinks that we can get back together after all this. He obviously has
no idea how serious a situation he has created. Had I known months ago that he
would become obsessed with me, I never would have gone out with him.
 

I shudder at the memory of Drew touching me now. How
could I have let him do those things to me? The thought that all this is my
fault rushes through my mind again. My fault for liking to feel helpless, my
fault for liking the surrender when he tied me up and took my body again and
again. My fault for encouraging him.

"I remember," I say. "Really, I do. But
you need to let me go. This isn’t okay, Drew. I’m not okay."

"Once I show you how good I can make you feel,
remind you how good we are together, you'll withdraw your statement from the
police."

“I already told you I would,” I shout in a rush. His
hand clasps over my mouth and he keeps talking as though he hasn’t heard
anything I said. In a way, it’s as though I’m not really there. He's in his own
little world where he's talking to the other me. The Allyson that cared about
him, the Allyson who liked him to do this to her.

He can't see that things have changed or that the
nature of the relationship will never be the same. He thinks if he wills it
enough, he’ll get his own way. Drew needs to prove a point, he needs to be in
control again. All of this is him being in denial.

"Drew, you can't do this. I'm saying no. You have
to stop. Let me go."

"How can I let you go when we're meant to be
together? Who else will give you what you need?"

He rubs a hand up my thigh and I whimper. Not in
pleasure as he hopes but in desperate fear.

"Don't worry. I know you. I know exactly what you
want."

"I want to be untied," I say forcefully,
louder than I've ever spoken to him before, hoping it will pull him back to
reality.

"That's not really what you want. I know what you
like and being untied isn't it. I'll give you all the things you need,
Allyson.
 
Everything you crave. The
powerlessness, the fear, the surrender. I'm going to give you all of those
things. And then you're going to come back to me."