Rebel Custody

by Sarah Hawthorne

  “Hey.” It was Pete. At five-thirty in the morning, a good forty-five minute drive from his apartment.

  He’d been following me.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked with a sinking feeling in my stomach.

  “I wanted to talk to you.” He pulled up a chair next to mine and sat down.

  Mr. Valecci was watching us. I made eye contact with him and hoped I conveyed a “please help me” look.

  “Say whatever it is you want to say and then leave, Pete.” I shuffled through some paperwork, hoping to look busy and occupied.

  He grabbed my hand. I groaned.

  “I’m in love with you.” He had tears in his eyes. “I just want to be with you so much. I miss you.”

  I sighed. Creepy as he was, he was obviously hurting. “I’m sorry you feel that way.” I tried to wrangle my fingers out of his grasp. “But I don’t want to be with you. Not now, or ever. It is over between us. I need you to accept that and stop following me. Got it? I need to never see you again.”

  He nodded, and I snatched my hand back. “Are you sure I can’t just stay for coffee?” he asked. One big tear slid down his cheek.

  Mr. Valecci walked over and cleared his throat. “Is there a problem here?” he asked.

  Bless his heart. He was eighty years old if he was a day. Hardly threatening, but I hoped Pete got the message.

  “Yeah.” I looked up at Mr. Valecci. “My friend was just leaving.”

  Realizing he was beaten, Pete stood. “I’ll always love you, Miriam.” Then he turned and left.

  Mr. Valecci looked at me and asked, “Your Romeo doesn’t know it’s over?”

  “Yeah,” I chuckled. “He’s an ex. Thanks for stepping in. I appreciate that a lot.”

  “No problemo.” He smiled. “Enjoy your cappuccino.”

  The tables at the restaurant were too small, and it was hard to spread out. After I finished my coffee, I packed up and went home. It wasn’t raining, so the walk would be easy. The weather was cold and clear. Fall was coming, and I took a deep breath of the last bit of summer.

  As I walked, I heard the faint sound of footsteps. Something hit me from behind, and my bag went sprawling on the ground. I heard the metallic ping of my can of pepper spray as it hit the pavement. Before I could reach for it, arms tightened around me and hauled me up.

  “We need to talk,” the voice whispered hoarsely.

  It was Pete. Of course he hadn’t really left the coffee shop. He’d been lying in wait for me to walk home. How stupid could I have been?

  “Let me go.” I tried to say it calmly, but it came out as a screech.

  He was half dragging me over a curb and to a silver car. His Audi. Wrenching open the passenger’s side door, he stuffed me in. I pulled up on the little tab to open the door, but it wouldn’t budge. He must have fixed it so it wouldn’t unlock for me. My heart started to pound.

  Remembering my phone was in my back pocket, I reached behind me. Just as I was going to get it, the driver’s side door opened, and he slid in and started the car.

  “Calm down,” he said. His voice was cool and collected, not at all affected by the fact that he had just kidnapped me off the street. “We’re going to have a romantic weekend at that cabin I told you about. It’ll be fun.” He smiled, but it was more just a showing of teeth. It was what he thought a smile should be.

  I looked back to the coffee shop. Maybe Mr. Valecci had seen something and called the cops, but it was two blocks away. Too far. At least I had my phone. All I had to do was wait until Pete wasn’t looking so I could use it.

  “No one is going to come for you,” he whispered, more to himself than to me. “I’m the assistant district attorney—do you think they’d arrest me?” He shot me a sidelong glance. “Just in case you were thinking of doing anything stupid, don’t.”

  We pulled onto the freeway. Pete changed his demeanor and tried to make small talk. “So, how is work going?” Casually, he turned on his blinker and changed lanes. Safety first when you kidnap someone.

  When I didn’t answer, his voice got rougher. “Tell me about it,” he demanded. I jumped at his forcefulness. Pete was usually manipulative—a big show of force was not his style.

  I started talking. Nervous talking. I rattled off the details of a few cases, nothing too confidential, but enough to keep Pete listening. Pete just drove northeast. Farther and farther away from Seattle and civilization.

  As we drove, I considered who I would call for help. The police? Pete was right, no one would arrest him. I wasn’t even sure if they would help me when they realized who he was. I could call my dad, but he would immediately call the police, and I’d be back in the same situation.

  Jean Luc?

  Of course.

  If I needed help, he would be right there with whatever was needed. He also wouldn’t be blinded by the fact that Pete was an ADA. He’d just get me out of there.

  After what seemed like hours, Pete pulled into a small gravel parking lot in front of a two-story cabin.

  “This is the office. I’ve got to get the keys to our place. I won’t be long.” He grabbed my shoulder and dragged me over for a kiss. “There’s nothing around for miles. Nowhere to go. Isn’t it nice?”

  I stared at him. He might be pretending this was a nice weekend away, but he had just told me not to run away.

  As soon as he disappeared into the office, I pulled out my phone and texted Jean Luc. Kidnapped. Pete. Cabins for romantic getaway. Help.

  My next text was the address of the office, and I explained that I didn’t know where he was taking me. Pete was just coming out of the front doors of the office as I shoved my cell phone in my bra. I hoped it would be less conspicuous than in my back pocket.

  “Everything okay in here?” he asked as he slid into the driver’s seat.

  “Yep. No problem. Just excited for our getaway.” I smiled. Maybe if I played along, I could convince him to let me go.

  Pete pulled back on the highway and then made a turn. After a minute, I realized he was looking at a small map the rental company must have given him.

  “Want me to hold that and help you navigate?” I tried to be cheerful. We were just another couple on a romantic holiday, right?

  Pete narrowed his eyes at me but handed me the map. “Tell me when to turn.”

  We bumped along for a couple more miles, which gave me plenty of time to memorize our location on the map. Finally, we pulled into another gravel driveway.

  “Home sweet home,” Pete announced, smiling.

  The cabin was single-story—I could escape from any window. But there was nothing around, and it was at least three miles to the main highway. It would be a difficult run. At least I was wearing jeans and tennis shoes.

  “Stay there,” he said sharply. Walking around the side of the car, he opened my door and held out his hand. “Let me help you, my dear.”

  We held hands and walked toward the house. He crushed my hand a little as we went up the steps. “I’ve been waiting for this for so long.” Pete turned to me. “Don’t ruin this. Do you understand?”

  Don’t run away? Don’t escape?

  Oh yeah, I understood. He wanted to live out his crazy fantasy.

  “Sure, honey.” I almost gagged on my own words. “We’ll have a great time.”

  Once we got inside, he led me to the master bedroom. I felt bile rise in the back of my throat. I thought we’d have more time. “Stay here,” he instructed. “I’ve got to unpack. Don’t try escaping.”

  As soon as he was gone, I peeked out the window. The bedroom window faced the car. Damn. Climbing out here would be impossible, at least for now.

  I checked my phone. No response from Jean Luc.

  He would come, though, just as soon as he saw my text. I knew it. I just h
ad to keep it together until he got there. As fast as my fingers could fly, I texted him the directions I had memorized from the map.

  The car horn beeped as Pete locked it. He was coming back in. The front porch steps creaked as he walked up them. I looked around for a hiding place for my phone. Running to the big walk-in closet, I pulled up a corner of carpet and slid the cell under. There was an empty shoe rack in the opposite corner, so I moved it to hide the slight bump in the carpet.

  The front door banged shut. I needed to look natural. I ran and sat on the bed.

  Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out.

  I concentrated on slowing my breathing. I couldn’t tip Pete off to the fact that I was up to something by gasping like a marathon runner.

  “Hey, sweetie,” Pete said, bursting into the bedroom. “Why don’t you unpack our clothes? I brought something special for you.” He grinned.

  Breathe in. Breathe out.

  “I can’t wait.” I smiled, hoping the dread didn’t show through my face.

  Pete lifted the bags high and dumped the contents on the bed. I caught a quick glimpse of a bulge underneath his coat. I’d seen something like that before, on Jean Luc. It was a gun. Pete winked and then left me alone. Since when did Pete wink?

  I sorted through the pile of clothes Pete had emptied onto the bed and started to get a plan together. Based on how long it took us to drive here, Jean Luc would be two or three hours out, I guessed. So I just had to keep Pete busy for three hours or so.

  As I unpacked, I could feel goose bumps rising on the back of my neck. He’d packed lingerie—a lot. Lace, fishnet, teddies, bodysuits, both satin and leather. He must have spent a fortune. My hands started to shake. I knew what he planned for this trip, but this drove it home.

  I needed to keep my head together. The reality of this situation was that I was going to get raped. Breathe in, breathe out. My focus now was not to get killed.

  Dawdling as much as I thought I could get away with, I put the clothes away and ventured into the living room. Pete was cooking spaghetti and meatballs.

  “Hey, what are you doing?” I asked. The clock said quarter to nine. “Are we having spaghetti for breakfast?” He had a bottle of wine open on the counter. Chianti. Garlic bread was ready and waiting for the oven.

  “I thought we could have a lovely dinner.” He grinned and took a drink of his wine. “And since there isn’t a restaurant nearby, I’m cooking.”

  “But it’s nine in the morning.” He’d obviously had this planned for a while, and I didn’t want to upset him. “Why don’t we do something fun, like go on a hike or something? I saw a sign for a visitor center on the way up. Maybe they have a waterfall we can hike to?”

  Immediately, I regretted my words. A hike would be bad. Alone, in the woods, with just the two of us would be bad. After seeing the spaghetti, though, I’d bet Pete had an idea in his head of what our first time should be. He wanted a nice dinner, maybe snuggles on the sofa. But he’d kidnapped me very early in the morning, so his schedule was off.

  I sauntered over to him. He was frowning. “Let’s do something fun today, then come back and maybe watch a movie.” I tried to do a coy smile. “We can snuggle and have your wonderful dinner tonight. But after a nice hike. Or we can go to the Indian casino we saw on the way in. Remember that place? Let’s play some blackjack!”

  The Indian casino was a stretch. He knew I hated to gamble, but it was full of people and security guards. A much better option than hiking. Anything to get me out of this cabin.

  “No,” he said firmly as he stirred his sauce. “We’re going to eat and drink wine and make love.”

  I froze. He’d said it. Obviously, he had that in mind with the stash of lingerie, but it was really true now. It would be at least two hours, maybe longer, before Jean Luc could make it. I had no idea if he had even seen my message yet.

  “Go change into something I brought you.” His face was stony, and I couldn’t quite read him. But his voice was very tightly controlled. “We can watch a romantic movie while we wait for the sauce to be done.”

  My hands started to shake, and I shoved them in my pockets and stared. This was not the Pete I knew. He was a very different person.

  “Go,” he barked. “Now.”

  I jumped and ran to the bedroom.

  The bedroom was in the front of the house, and the kitchen was in the back. Inspecting the window, I decided it would be big enough for me to squeeze through. Was it worth the chance?

  On our way in, there had been no one else on the road. I wasn’t sure if it was because it was so early or because it was so remote. I hadn’t seen any businesses or other residences. I sighed. Any cabins around could be vacant because they were rentals and the summer season was over. It had started to rain, which meant fewer people would be out now. Damn.

  Running to the back of the closet, I pulled back the carpet for my phone. There was nothing more from Jean Luc, plus it was about to run out of battery. Was he asleep still? Angry? I couldn’t imagine him being so angry that he wouldn’t try to help.

  Despair slid over me. What if no one was coming? I had two percent battery left, enough for one more text. Pete would hear me talking, so calling 911 wasn’t an option.

  A pop-up flashed on my phone. One percent of battery left. If Jean Luc wasn’t coming, I needed help. I texted the cabin’s location to my father along with the word police. As I was hitting send, my phone died. The text didn’t even go through.

  Jean Luc was my only hope.

  After placing the phone back in its hiding spot, I surveyed the wardrobe. I pawed through ten different outfits before I found something mildly conservative, a red satin camisole and a pair of tiny matching shorts.

  One of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do in my entire life was take off my shoes. Without my shoes, I had no hope of making it very far if I had to run. I was handicapping myself, and I knew it. I felt tears welling up, and my breath began to shake as I untied my sneakers. Putting them on the shoe rack, I dutifully changed into the slinky outfit.

  “Take off your underwear.”

  I jumped at the sudden command. Pete stood in the doorway of the bedroom, frowning.

  “It’s going to be a romantic evening. Take off the underwear, and bring me your clothes when you’re done. I’m going to burn them.”

  He turned and left. My fingers were shaking so badly now, I almost couldn’t unhook my own bra. No underwear. Just a tiny bit of fabric between him and my body. I shuddered.

  Once I was undressed, I put the outfit back on again. I shivered as the satin slid over my body. I didn’t want this, didn’t want it with him. Had Jean Luc gotten my message? Could he get here fast enough?

  Chapter Forty-One

  Skeeter

  There were five of us as we pulled up to the cabin. We cut our engines on the last quarter mile and coasted in. Hopefully Pete the Rapist didn’t hear us.

  As soon as I’d gotten Miri’s text, I started barking orders and getting the guys organized. I couldn’t let this happen to her.

  “Surround the house.” I tried to keep my voice down. “They probably know we’re here. Try to keep him from running and taking her. Let him go if you need to. She’s the one we care about.”

  The guys went around back, and I walked up the front steps with Clint at my back. I didn’t bother with knocking. With my gun drawn, I kicked the shitty rental door. It gave way. Glass broke from somewhere else in the house, and a woman screamed. Miri was screaming. I breathed a sigh of relief. She was alive.

  Now it was time to kick some ass.

  They were in front of the television. He had her by the hair, holding her in front of him, pinning her arms. “Let her go,” I said calmly.

  “No.” Pete shook his head. “I’m not losing her to you one more time
. She’s mine, dammit.”

  I drew my nine-millimeter. It packed the power I needed but was easy to conceal. Perfect for this situation.

  “Let her go,” I repeated in a measured voice. “Let her go, and you can turn around and go home.”

  “We were just getting to the good part.” He grabbed Miri’s breast. “Maybe you’d like to watch?”

  I leveled my gun at his head.

  “No!” Miri screeched. “You can’t kill him. There’s too much evidence. He rented this place under his own name.”

  “This is all mine.” He laughed, thrusting his hand her between her legs.

  She gasped, and I saw red. I holstered my weapon. I wanted to beat this asshole to a bloody pulp. An easy, painless bullet was too good for him.

  I took a running swing. He left his face unprotected. I felt the crunch of his nose, and my fist connected. Perfect shot—except he went over backward and didn’t let go of her. They both fell into the coffee table.

  Grabbing Miri’s arm, I hauled her up out of the furniture rubble. “You okay?” I asked.

  Damn, she was scared. Her skin was pale and cold, and I could hear her teeth chattering.

  I expected her to nod that she was all right, but instead she spoke. “He’s got a gun.”

  Stashing her behind me, I turned back to Pete and found a .45 in my face. Goddammit. My weapon was still in my jacket.

  “Look, man.” I needed to think of something to talk him out of this, so I just reiterated what Miri said. “She’s right, isn’t she? You rented this place under your own name.”

  I could tell by the look of rage that he had.

  “You shoot me, and they’ll be on you like a duck on a June bug. A crime that big, and it won’t even matter if you’re the assistant district attorney, will it?” I grinned. I was hitting home, and Miri was safely behind me. Time to have a little fun. “They would come into this cabin and see that you had planned yourself a romantic evening.” I laughed. “Then they would know you struck out. Couldn’t even get her to fuck you if you held a gun to her head.”