The Trouble With Bodyguards: Part 2 (8 page)

              Chips, cases of soda pop, frozen pizza, chocolate-covered donuts. Rick scanned the items in the cart, trying to imagine what kind of metabolism Alex must have in order to keep her fantastic, slender figure and still eat like a frat boy. He chuckled as he turned his head, watching the curve of her ass as she sauntered down the aisle in front of him, plucking a box of sugar-coated breakfast cereal off the shelf and tossing it into the cart.

              “What?” she said, reading the amusement in his eyes.

              “You eat like a teenager,” he said, picking up the box of cereal that she had just picked out. “There is a cartoon character on this box.”

              “I like it,” she said, snagging it out of his hand and putting it back in the cart. “What kind of cereal do you eat?”

              “Granola,” he said, picking the box up off the shelf and placing it in the cart. “If I eat cereal. If I have time, I usually want a breakfast that has more protein and less carbohydrates, sticks with you longer and is better for your system in the long run.” He gestured to the basket, where their different choices shared a space. It was easy to see which things were hers and which were his, though an uninformed observer would probably mix up the two. Her diet was junk, junk, and more junk, and coffee. His items seemed more like what a grownup would eat, organic chicken breasts and good cheese, whole wheat bread and fresh fruit. He smiled as he picked a box out of the basket. "What exactly is this made of?" He held the box in front of him, gesturing as if he were a presenter on a game show. "I seriously doubt that there is anything resembling fruit anywhere on the ingredients list."

Alex scowled, yanking the box of fruit roll ups from his hands and cradling it protectively against her belly as if it were a child. "Do not critique the food that I decide to buy," she said emphatically. "I am a grown woman, perfectly capable of picking out my own meals."

"I don't doubt your ability," he said, stifling a laugh attempting to burst past his pursed lips, "I'm just afraid that you're going to die of malnutrition with your mouth full of whatever it actually is inside that box." He lost it, unable to contain his amusement as the look of indignation spread across her face and the pale skin of her cheeks began to redden with rage.

"Fuck you," she said, throwing the box into the cart and turning away from him. She crossed her arms over her chest, storming away from him down the aisle and turned the corner out of sight.

"Alex," he called, hoping that she could hear him through her fury. "Alex, wait, you know that I was only teasing you. Don't get your panties all in a bunch. Come back." He followed after her, pushing the cart full of their items, turning the corner just in time to see her wave her arm frantically at the laser eye in charge of opening the automatic door at the front of the store and storming through it to the parking lot.

"Well, shit," he said, throwing his hands up into the air in frustration. "Guess I'll just finish the damned shopping on my own then." He continued through the store, grabbing the last few things that he needed, adding a bouquet of flowers at the last minute, hoping to quell her anger.

Standing at the front counter, waiting for a teenage boy without an inch of skin on his poor face that wasn't erupting in a sea of blemishes to finish manhandling their groceries into the bags, Rick gazed out the front windows of the store, trying to catch a glimpse of Alex sitting in the car. He wondered if she was still pissed. If she was sitting out there fuming, planning all of the horrible things that she was going to say to him in retort, or planning her evil revenge schemes that would make him rue the day that he had ever met her. He smiled to himself. He really did watch too many of those cheesy old movies. She had probably realized by now that she overreacted, that he was only teasing her and she had taken it way too personally, and found herself bored and alone in a dark car, waiting for him.

Rick paid for the groceries, scooping up the bags and boxes, and headed out to the car. He could only see her silhouette, the sun having set, shadows spreading over the lot outside the store. The car was just outside the pool of light cast by the floodlight overhead, and Alex's expression was unreadable in the dim light inside the car. He stepped up next to the driver's side window, gently tapping the bouquet of flowers against the glass to catch her attention.

He leaned over, clearly able to make out the shape of her middle finger as she held it up for him to see. Yup, she was still pissed, great.

Pulling the keys from his pocket, Rick set the case of soda he was carrying on the ground, popping the trunk to put the groceries inside. A sharp, searing pain tore through his skull, and his legs collapsed beneath him. Rick fell to the ground in a heap, unconscious and helpless, the keys sliding across the pavement, coming to rest against the rear tire of the car parked a few spaces away.

Pain. A screaming pain was attempting to drag from the depths of unconsciousness. She didn't want to wake, didn't want to go to the office today, to face the projects that needed tending to. She didn't want to sit through hours of meetings with the clients, didn't want to spend hours in front of the monitors editing photos for the spread. Not today, today she wanted to stay here, cuddled up in bed with Rick, warm and safe under the covers, touching and kissing each other as the rest of the world went about its business. No, she was not going to get up today, she was going to stay right here.

But the pain would not go away. It niggled at her, forcing her to acknowledge its presence, no matter how hard she strived to ignore it. She lifted her hand to rub at her temples, hoping to alleviate her suffering. Wait, she couldn't lift her hand, it wasn't working. Her arm must be asleep, she must have slept on it, cutting off the blood supply. That was going to suck, she thought, when the pins and needles started. Why didn't her body want to cooperate with the fact that she was so damned comfortable? Why did it want her to wake up so badly? Didn't it know that all she wanted to do was sleep?

Alex opened her eyes, angry, ready to shake her arm until it came back to life, and her world dropped out from beneath her.

This was not her bed. She was not resting peacefully next to Rick as the sun streamed in the window of her room. The quilt that her grandmother had made for her was not tucked up to her chin; there was no soft pillow below her head.

A single bulb hung in the middle of the ceiling, the only illumination in this dark place. The walls of the room were pasted with photographs, torn from magazines and newspapers, hundreds of faces looking down at her, their eyes blackened, torn out, leaving gaping spaces, voids where their eyes should be. Alex tried to turn her head, to look around, but was horrified to find that she couldn't. Her muscles wouldn't obey the commands that her brain was giving them. She tried to sit up, to throw herself off of whatever she was lying on, but no matter how strongly she willed it, her body did not move.

She looked down, at least she could still do that, and found that she was not bound, there was nothing holding her down, but she didn't have the ability to move, even to lift her hand. She screamed, fear running cold as ice in her veins, as the shriek tore through her thoughts, echoing inside her skull, but her mouth did not open, no sound escaped her lips. She couldn't even make a sound.

What the hell was wrong with her?

Rick stirred, screwing his eyes shut, irritated at the incessant beeping that was invading his sleep. What the hell, he thought, if she needed to get up, she should just get up and shut off the damned alarm. He reached behind his head, yanking the pillow from beneath him and covering his head with it. Maybe she would get the hint, that he was still sleeping, and shut it off, if she was considerate. But it continued to beep, the sound penetrating the cotton stuffing of the pillow, drilling into his head.

"Jesus Christ," he said, his voice rough with sleep, "just get up already. Turn that fucking thing off."

"What am I supposed to turn off, sir?" asked a voice to the left of the bed. Not the voice of the woman that he expected to be in the room with him, but another woman. His eyes shot open, scanning the room, confusion swirling as he tried to make sense of what he was seeing. A nurse, in pink scrubs, her blond hair tied up in a bun at the back of her head, was standing near the hospital bed that he was laying in, checking the fluid level in the IV bag that was attached to his arm. The beeping sound was coming from a heart monitor, nestled behind the head of the bed. The morning sun was streaming in the window, warming his feet beneath the pale blue blanket that was tucked around him.

"A hospital?" he said, attempting to sit up, quickly laying back down and putting his hand to his head when dizziness hit and the room spun around him.

"Easy," said the nurse, coming to him and putting her hand against his chest, trying to keep him on his back in the bed. "You need to rest," she continued. "I'll go and tell the doctor that you're awake."

He lay back against the pillow, the rough pillow case crinkling audibly as he rested his head. Why was he in a hospital? How had he gotten here, and where in the hell was Alex? Panic flooded his veins as he realized that he had no idea the answer to any of those questions. His heart hammered in his chest, adrenaline shooting through him. Alex. Alex was in danger, that he knew.

An older man dressed in a white coat entered the room, a clipboard held before his eyes. "The nurse tells me that you are awake," he said, looking up at Rick. "I see that she's right." He chuckled, pleased at his joke, and crossed the room to stand next to Rick's bed. He put a stethoscope to Rick's chest, listening to his heart beat and breathing, then pulled a pen light from his pocket, shining it into Rick's eyes.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, switching from one eye to the other, testing the contraction of Rick's pupils for signs of concussion.

"What happened?" asked Rick. "How did I end up here?"

"You were found unconscious in the parking lot of a grocery store," said the doctor. "Paramedics were called because you were unresponsive, and you were brought here. We ran a CT scan, and you have no bleeding in your brain, but you were not waking up, so we kept you overnight for observation. You seem to have a slight concussion," he continued, writing something in the chart. "Is there someone that we can call to come get you and take you home? You're going to need monitoring over the next several hours."

"Alex," Rick said, trying to sit up again and finding himself hit with another wave of dizziness, his stomach turning with nausea.

"Sure," said the doctor. "Just give us Alex's number, and we'll give him a ring."

"Her," said Rick, clutching at his swimming head, "And I don't think that it will be as easy as all that. We need to call her father," he continued, dread sinking in the pit of his stomach, "and the police."

…             

              A solitary tear rolled down the side of Alex's face, dropping lightly onto the surface below her head. The screams continued inside her head, echoing through her in the silence of this empty room. There was a solitary chair, the only furniture that she could see in this space, other than whatever she was lying on. She knew what it was for, who it was for. Jacob. The chair was for him to sit, to watch her, his prize, his possession, as she slept.

Where was he now? she wondered. She had been lying here for what seemed like hours, alone in the darkness of this cold and empty room. A fly had circled the bulb above her head, her only distraction from the fear raging through her in the time since she had woken and found herself in the depths of this nightmare. She was exhausted; straining to will her body to move, even an inch, to make a sound, had taken more effort than anything that she had ever done, and to no avail. He must have drugged her, or done something to her body, some injury that had left her completely paralyzed, unable to fight him off, unable to escape this captivity a second time.

Again she screamed, and again not a sound escaped her lips. She was going to die here, in this cold and dark place. After his last attempt, where Rick had rescued her from the clutches of his insane brother, his hiding place for her, his treasure, his prize, would be much more secure. Alex sank into despair as her bladder released, a pool of warmth spreading beneath her, adding a dark level of shame to her misery.

"Rick," said Alex's father, storming into the hospital room where Rick was sitting up in bed, attempting to pull his t-shirt over his head. "Where is Alex?"

"He has her," said Rick. "I don't know where."

"What happened?" said her father, wringing his hands.

"I don't know," said Rick. "Last thing I remember is putting the groceries in the car. She was mad at me for something stupid that I said, and she was in the car sulking. The next thing I know, I wake up in a hospital. He must have jumped me, knocked me out somehow while I was distracted."

"You were supposed to be watching out for her," said her father, his voice cracking with emotion as he shouted, his face reddening. "I hired you to keep her safe," he yelled, "and this is the second time that you have allowed this monster to take my daughter!"

"I know, sir," said Rick, standing. He paused, swaying from the dizziness, and put his hand on the railing of the bed to steady himself.

"You're hurt," said her father, his rage calming.

"Concussion," said Rick. "I'll be fine. I've had the doctors call the detective; he should be here shortly. We need to find her, and fast. My brother has been off his medications for too long now, and with his delusions, even I don't know what he's capable of."

"You don't think," said her father, lowering himself into a chair in the corner of the room, "that she's..." He paused, unable to comprehend that his daughter, his lovely little girl, had been taken from him, forever.

"No," Rick answered, putting his hand on the old man's shoulder. "Let's not think like that. Until we know otherwise, I will assume that she is alive. I don't think that he would do that to her. He values her too much; she is precious to him. I think that that will be her saving grace. She is too important to him for him to harm her like that."

"I hope you're right," said her father, holding his head in his hands. "Jesus, Rick," he said, tears spilling from his eyes, "I hope you're right."

....

The soft click of a dead bolt being turned caught her attention, dragging Alex from the stupor that she had found herself in after staring blankly at the bare bulb in the ceiling for the last few hours. Her eyes shot to the sound, widening in fear as the shadowy figure of her kidnapper came through the doorway, pulling the heavy iron door shut behind him. He crossed to her side, the pool of light from the bulb illuminating his face, showing her this monster for the first time. He looked normal. A young man, his hair cut short, his white shirt clean and pressed. He had shaven recently, and she could smell the rich fragrance of expensive cologne coming from him. She didn't know what she had expected, a madman, his eyes wild, filthy and unkempt, not this clean-cut young man with the sweet smile on his lips.

He reached out, smoothing the hair away from her forehead, gently petting her cheek with the back of his hand. "Hello, my darling," he said, his voice soft and steady, comforting after being left alone with only the sound of her own heart beat for so long. "I'm glad you're awake," he continued, "I thought you were going to sleep all day, you lazy bum." He chuckled, reaching out to the left of her face, where she could not see, and picking up something.

Fear flooded her. A knife, she thought. He was going to cut her open, reach inside her and take out her heart. This was going to be the end of her, she was going to bleed to death at this man's hands.

He gently lifted her head, cradling it in the palm of his hand, and pulled a hairbrush through the snarls in her hair, smoothing it on the table around her. He set the brush back on the table, picking up a soft cloth and wiping the sweat from her forehead, caring for her.

Alex watched with wide, frightened eyes as he cleaned her face, the soft cloth dampened with some sort of sweet-smelling cleanser. Her heart raced in her chest, her immobility rendering her helpless at the hands of this man as he unbuttoned her blouse, running the cloth gently over the sensitive skin of her throat, her chest. Sliding his arm beneath her, he lifted her torso, cradling her in his arms as he slid her shirt off, unhooking her bra and removing it as well, leaving her naked in the chill air of the room. He worked carefully around the IV that was in her arm. She hadn't been able to see it while she was lying down, but caught a glimpse of it now. She wondered where he had learned how to insert the needle into her arm, or which drugs to administer to render her immobile and unable to speak. Then she thought of Rick telling her about his time spent in the hospital, and pity washed over her as she thought of all of the things that he had been forced to endure in his time there. He must have had this same procedure done to him several times, left to scream inside his own head as the world swirled around him. As she watched he carefully folded her things, setting them on the chair near the bed.

He stood next to her, admiring the pale skin of her body in the light of the bulb. Lifting his cloth, he carefully took her hand in his, lifting her arm and bathing it with the cloth. He didn't miss an inch, caressing her skin, wiping away the sour sweat that the hours of fear had left on her. He dipped his cloth into a bowl of water, rinsing it out before wiping the skin of her breasts, her belly, leaving her glistening with moisture, the light dancing on her bare skin.

The chill of the room touched her where she was damp from his cloth, and gooseflesh rose. Her nipples puckered with the cold, reaching for the warmth of the lamp, and he paused, pleased with her body's reaction to his touch. "I will take very good care of you," he said, reaching for the button on her jeans to open it. "You deserve that," he continued, pulling down the zipper. Stepping to the end of the table, he grabbed the hem at the bottom of her jeans, gently tugging, sliding the waistband away from her waist and over her hips.

Inside she was screaming, begging this man to not undress her, not to touch her. But she was helpless, at the whim of this man, unable to move, unable to fight him off, and now that her jeans were being folded and set on the chair along with the rest of her clothes, now she was also naked, completely vulnerable to whatever he was going to do to her.

Alex closed her eyes, tears rolling down the sides of her face, pooling on the table behind her head. Rick, she thought, where the hell was Rick? Would he be able to find her this time? Had his brother killed him when he had taken her, and now there was no one that would even know where to begin looking for her? Was this her life now, to be here, with this man, for the time that she had left?

"Oh, darling," he said, pity in his voice, "you've had an accident. Don't worry, I will have you cleaned up in no time. Pretty and perfect, just as you should be."