The Line: The Complete Series

by Nikki Rose

  I looked for a back way to avoid the roadblock and still make it back to the city but every road I turned down was either a dead end or came out before the police block. It was official—I was screwed.

  I turned back down another dark street. There were no lights on in any of the windows. It seemed everyone in the small neighborhood went to bed by ten o’clock. I considered parking inconspicuously in one of their driveways when another vehicle approached. I watched from my car, parked on the side of the road, as a faded old sedan with a Chinese restaurant logo on the side pulled into a driveway.

  This could be my only chance. I pulled into the same drive, parking beside the delivery man just as he was getting out.

  “Perfect timing. It looks like I got here just in time,” I said cheerfully but quiet enough not to draw attention from anyone inside the house.

  “I'm sorry. Who are you?”

  “I’m the one who ordered the food.” I motioned toward the brown paper bag in his hand but he looked confused.

  “Ms. Hana ordered this food, just like every Friday.”

  Shit. My plan would have worked great if this Hana person wasn't quite so predictable. “Of course, she did. I didn't mean I ordered it. I meant for Hana.”

  “You know Ms. Hana?”

  “Why else would I be here?” I smiled and forced myself to exude confidence even though I was only seconds from being busted by the Chinese delivery man. “Here. Let me get that.” I motioned toward the food and pulled my wallet from my back pocket because who's going to pay for food they didn't order?

  The man looked flustered but he checked the ticket. “That's $12.87.”

  “Sure thing.” I pulled out a twenty and handed it to him. “Keep the change.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “No problem. And thank you.” I inclined my head and took the bag from him.

  Once he was gone, I hurried up the front porch steps and rang the bell.

  “Just a minute, Henry.” A pretty, feminine voice called from somewhere inside. The lock clicked free and she spoke as she opened the door. “What took you so long? I heard sirens. Was there a— Oh. You're not Henry.”

  “No. Sorry. Something came up and Henry couldn't make the delivery so I'm helping him out.”

  She eyed me suspiciously no doubt taking in my disheveled appearance. I couldn't help checking her out either but mine was for purely selfish reasons.

  What girl in her right mind answers the door wearing just an oversized t-shirt and nothing else?

  “How much do I owe you?” she looked at me expectantly and I realized it hadn't been the first time she asked.

  “Twelve eighty-seven” I repeated the total the delivery guy had given me.

  “Right. Sorry. I knew that.” She dug the money out of her wallet and handed me sixteen dollars.

  “Thank you, ma’am. I'm sorry but could I possibly trouble you for a drink of water. I'm not supposed to ask but there was a lot of smoke in the air when I drove through and it seems to be irritating my throat.” I didn't have to fake a cough. The smoke and ash really were irritating.

  “Sure. I guess. Wait here.” She turned away, leaving the door slightly ajar. This was my chance and as much as I hated what had to happen next, I knew my choices were extremely limited.

  I stepped inside her living room just as she disappeared into what I could assume was the kitchen. Her living room looked more like an art gallery and I found myself gazing at her walls in awe, forgetting what I was even doing there.

  The paintings that hung on nearly every available wall looked more like they should be hanging in an expensive mansion, not the modest ranch style home they were in.

  I glanced into the kitchen as she filled her glass with water, her back to me. Her toned legs went on for miles before disappearing under the long t-shirt that fell just below her perfectly curved ass.

  I didn't want to startle her by getting caught staring, so I waited for her to bring me my water while losing myself in an outstanding painting of a forest with rays of sun piercing through the treetops.

  “Oh,” Her soft startled voice made me regret what I was doing.

  I motioned toward the paintings, smiling, and trying to seem as unthreatening as possible in hopes she wouldn’t completely freak out. “These are great. Are you a collector?”

  “Thanks, and no. Not exactly. They're mine.”

  “You’re the artist?” I couldn’t hide the surprise in my voice. So much talent in a girl who couldn’t have been older than twenty-five.

  “I don’t know if I’d call myself an artist, but yeah, I’m the one who painted them.” She kept her distance, extending her arm to hand me the glass of water.

  “That’s incredible.”

  She squirmed and a soft blush washed over her cheeks at the well-deserved compliment, making me smile.

  “I heard a lot of sirens a bit ago. Did you pass anything on the way here?” She looked nervous but I wasn’t sure if it was because she suspected something or because of the compliments.

  “Yeah. It looked pretty bad. I'm hoping I can get back through on my way out.”

  She froze and something in her expression changed. If I hadn't been trained to observe micro expressions, I probably would have missed it. “Odd. The sirens were passing by going toward the docks. The restaurant is in the opposite direction.”

  Shit.

  “Yeah, I had to make another delivery out that way first.”

  “Oh.”

  I took a sip of water from the glass and ran the back of my hand across my mouth. “So, you sell these?” I inclined my head toward a wall covered in her artwork.

  “Some of them.”

  I was drawn to a particularly dark and eerie piece. It didn't seem like something that sweet, pretty girl would paint. It was angry and dark with long broad strokes. I stepped closer to examine the distorted girl's face. She was in agony so intense I could almost feel the pain myself.

  “Tell me about this one.”

  “Don't you need to get back to your job?”

  “You were my last delivery so I'm not really in any hurry.”

  I hoped she would take my interest in her art as my reason for lingering. Maybe, if I was really lucky, she'd be attracted to me and ask me to stay the night, never needing to know my real reason for being there.

  A sexy blonde asking her delivery man to stay the night? What do you think this is, a cheap porno?

  “My food is going to get cold. I should probably eat. So, if you don't mind...” She stepped toward the door but I instinctively stepped in her way.

  “Please don't let me stop you from enjoying your food. I'm just admiring your artwork. These pieces are beautiful. How much do you charge?”

  Her expression hardened as did her voice, “These aren't for sale. I really think you should go now.”

  “I'd like to stay a little longer if that's okay,” I said more insistently, hoping she wouldn't make things harder than they had to be.

  She made a move to go around me to the door but I easily blocked her again.

  She looked down at my hand holding the doorknob and her voice lowered. “You're not a delivery man, are you?”

  “No. But, —” before I could finish, she grabbed the table lamp and swung it through the air at me, aiming for my head.

  I dodged out of the way, blocking the blow with my forearm and the lamp broke.

  “If you'll just let me explain...” I tried to find some explanation that would calm her down. She swung again with the piece that remained in her hands, managing to catch the skin, leaving a slice across my chest.

  “Shit. Just listen...”

  I caught her wrist and the jagged piece of lamp fell to the floor. Her knee came up aimed between my legs. I turned just in time to block the blow. I whirled her around, pinning her against the wall, with my body against her back to keep her still.

  “Not to sound cliche but we can do this the easy way or the hard—”

  I was interr
upted by her heel slamming into my shin and nearly knocking my knee backward but I was strong enough to fight against the pain.

  “And the hard way it is.”

  “Let me go,” she screamed and fought against my grip.

  I pressed my chest against her to hold her still without hurting her arms, finally overpowering her. I was close enough to smell her hair, a mix of vanilla and something subtly floral. It was intoxicating but I ignored it, refocusing myself to the task at hand.

  “I need rope or zip ties.”

  Her body stilled with a new added tension, “What? No.”

  “Where do you keep them?” I kept my voice soft like you would question a small child, not wanting to frighten her more.

  “What makes you think I even have something like that?”

  “You think not telling me is going to make things better? I could use charger or cable wires if I need to but I’d rather not tear up things in your home. Duct tape works in a pinch but that can be painful when you go to remove it.”

  She let out a sound of frustration, her shoulders slumping in defeat but I didn’t miss the small shudder of her breath that told me she was holding back tears.

  “Zip ties are in the far-left drawer in the kitchen, next to the garage.”

  “Thank you. Now was that so hard?” I kept her arms held securely behind her back as I moved us both into the kitchen. I was careful to keep her wrists locked in one hand while I retrieved the whole pack of zip ties from the drawer.

  I guided her to sit in one of the kitchen chairs, first zip tying her hands behind her back then to one of the horizontal planks on the back of the chair to keep her from moving while I zip tied her ankles to the legs of the chair.

  She was feisty. Something I liked in a woman but hated in a hostage. A hostage. Shit. How the hell had I gotten myself into a situation where I was desperate enough to take a hostage?

  “You don’t have to tie me up like this. Please?”

  I gave her an incredulous look from my place, crouched beside her while I worked to secure her leg. After the way she came at me with the lamp, I most certainly did have to tie her up.

  “I’m sorry. Look, I don't have much money but take whatever you want. Just please, don't hurt me?” Her panicked voice gutted me but I couldn't soften toward her. She was more dangerous than I'd given her credit for and I couldn't afford to make that mistake again.

  I stood from the floor after making sure the last tie was in place. “I should be saying that to you seeing as you're the one who just attacked me with a lamp,” as I said the words, I motioned to the bloody spot soaking through the tear in my shirt.

  “I said I'm sorry. Please, just please don't hurt me? Let me go. I won't tell anyone anything, I swear,” her voice shook and I hated myself for picking her house.

  Why couldn't I have picked some little old lady with dementia who thought I was her visiting grandson?

  CHAPTER 2

  Hana

  “I’m not going to hurt you,” he paused and motioned toward the door that led from the kitchen to the garage. “That’s the garage?”

  “Yes,” I spoke hesitantly, unsure of why he’d need to know that.

  “How many cars are inside?”

  “Just my one car,” my forehead crinkled as I studied him suspiciously. He was like a puzzle I needed to figure out. “The keys are on the hook. You can take it.”

  “I don’t want your car,” he opened the door and looked out into the garage as if calculating something.

  “I’ll be right back. Don’t try anything stupid,” he shot me a warning glance, leaving the kitchen door propped open while he moved things around.

  Once the space beside my car was cleared, he went back to the doorway to press the garage door opener but one glance at me and he headed for me instead. “I’m going to be moving my car into the garage. Can’t have someone spotting an unusual car in your driveway and getting suspicious.” It made sense and I hated how clever he seemed to be with the whole situation. It was as though he had done that sort of thing before.

  Maybe he had.

  “I can’t risk you trying to scream for the neighbors while the door is open, so I’m going to have to gag you but it will only be for a few minutes until I get back inside.”

  “No. Please?” fear gripped my chest and I couldn’t breathe at the thought of being so helpless, not only tied up but unable to even speak or scream for help? It was more than I could bear to think of.

  He grabbed the clean dish towel hanging in the kitchen and twisted it tight. My eyes widened and I shook my head frantically but words failed me. Before I knew it, the twisted rag was bound tightly around my head, pulled taut between my teeth so that I couldn’t speak. I tried to stay calm. He said it was only while he moved his car but how could I trust a man who would bind and gag me?

  “I’m sorry,” he gave me one last apologetic glance before opening the garage door.

  If I leaned to the side, I could still see him as he stepped out of the opened garage, glancing around outside before stepping out and disappearing from sight.

  This was my chance. The one moment where he was distracted and far enough away that he might not be able to catch me before I made it out the door and to a neighbor’s house. I just needed to get my hands—or my feet free. I struggled with the zip ties around my wrists but all it did was chafe the skin. The zip ties around my ankles were just looped around the chair legs. If I could get the chair on its side, there was a chance I could slip the ties down and off the chair legs, freeing my legs and giving me the ability to run even if it was with a chair on my back. If I was lucky, the back of the chair could break and free my hands too. I had to try.

  I rocked the seat to the side, not wanting to force it backward where I’d be stuck on my back. It took a couple tries before I was finally able to get enough force to tip the chair. The moment the chair tilted, I had second thoughts about my plan. My shoulder slammed into the floor first, my head whipping to the side and slamming against the hard tiles which dazed me.

  I could hear the garage door being shut again. I didn’t have long. Once the stunned feeling faded, I stretched my body as best as I could to try to force the zip ties down the chair legs until my legs wouldn’t extend anymore and the zip ties stopped about an inch from the bottom of the chair leg. No matter how I squirmed, I couldn’t get my legs free.

  A car door slammed and I knew he would be coming back soon. His footsteps were far away but my window of opportunity was closing fast. It was hopeless. I was stuck. My chance was coming to an end and at that moment the reality of my situation finally sunk in. Tears stung my eyes and my sobs threatened to choke me.

  “Shit, what happened?” his voice was close to me and I hadn’t even realized when he’d come back inside. I glanced up through my tears at him leaning over me. He removed my gag and I just sobbed harder.

  “I’m sorry. I thought maybe if I...” I sniffled.

  “It’s okay. Can’t blame you for trying.” He picked up the chair with me still in it and sat it back right. He gently gripped my chin and examined me intently. “Damn it. You’re bleeding.”

  “I’m sorry,” I sobbed and it was the only thing I could say. I was sorry. I was sorry for failing to escape, for hurting myself in the process, for letting this stranger into my home. Hell, I was sorry for even ordering takeout. I wished I could get a complete do-over on my entire day.

  “You got a first aid kit somewhere around here?”

  “Bathroom closet,” I managed to get the words out around my tears and shuddering sobs.

  He left my sight for just a few minutes as he went to the closet. He returned with the first aid kit and a clean washcloth. He dampened the cloth and gently blotted away the blood. I winced from the pain and he yanked his hand back as if it had burned him. “Sorry. I’m trying to be easy,” He blotted the cut again and studied it. “It doesn’t look too bad, the head just bleeds easily. I gazed up at him, studying his expression. He seemed genu
inely pained that I’d gotten hurt which was a comforting thought considering I was his captive.

  After drying my head, he gently bandaged me up.

  “Look, my purse is by the door. Take whatever you want, just please leave me alone.”

  “I'm not here to take your money.”

  My breath shuttered and I froze feeling the blood drain from my face.

  “Oh God,” my voice cracked, sounding pained. “W—what is it you want then?”

  “I just want to hang out here for a little while.” he ducked his head so that we’d be face to face. He locked eyes with me. There was something tender there, almost pleading. As though he were willing me to see that he wasn't the monster I suspected him to be.

  “Hang out?”

  “Yes. There are some people looking for me and I need a place to lay low.”

  “So, you're really not here to hurt me?”

  “No. Of course not. I said I wouldn't and I'm a man of my word.”

  “Okay,” I whispered but the fear was still prevalent in my voice.

  “Good, now I believe you had some dinner to eat? Your food’s getting cold.”

  I hadn’t expected such a change in direction. But my stomach chose that moment to remind me that I was in fact very hungry. I’d skipped lunch, too enthralled with my painting to worry about silly little things like eating, but now I was famished.

  He placed my take out on the kitchen table and scooted my chair up to it.

  “Am I going to have to bob for my dinner?” I motioned with my head because my hands were still tied.

  “That depends.”

  “On what?”

  “If I free your hands, can I trust you aren’t going to do anything stupid like trying to escape? I’m not leaving you alone again so there’d be no way you’d have time to try to get yourself free.”

  “Then I suppose there’d be no danger in it, would there?”

  “I suppose not,” he pulled out a pocket knife and I flinched.