HUGE X3: A MFMM Menage Stepbrother Romance

by Stephanie Brother

“That’s him,” I say. “That fucking asshole.”

  I stand up quickly, shooting the chair back on its wheels to hit the wall on the other side of the office. All eyes turn to stare at me. Jameson raises an eyebrow, looks at my chair and nods slightly. I retrieve the chair, park it near the desk and sit again. Outbursts like that will convince my sergeant that he’s right about me being too close to the case. I force myself to calm down and think rationally. Allyson needs me right now and I can’t let my anger interfere. I can’t let her down again.

  I have no idea what the bastard will do with her. What he could be doing with her right now. I know approximately how long he’s had her. Every second is too long. We need to find her and we need to find her now.

  From the stories she related back to us in the interview room, the guy sounded like a complete jerk. Now I’m wondering if he’s the full ticket.

  I clench my fists at my sides, the urge to punch the guy’s lights out overwhelming, but first we have to find him.

  “I don’t think this can give us much more information,” I say.

  Now we have to do the real police work. The running information through databases, sifting through known associates. Turning over every stone until we find her and bring her back safely.

  I regret so many things.

  I wish I could tell her everything I’m feeling. That I don’t regret sleeping with her, even though she dashed my hopes afterward. That she’s done nothing wrong apart from trust the wrong man. I could see the shame in her eyes when she was telling her story. I felt so damn angry about it all that I didn’t get the chance to say what really mattered.

  I pull out my phone and punch in a number. Someone in the department who owes me a favor and will run the partial plate even though the case is off limits to me. My contact answers on the third ring. I don’t have time for chit chat so when he starts to tell me about his last poker game I cut him off.

  “Sorry man, this is urgent. Can you run something for me?”

  The heavy sigh on the other end tells me the poker game went well and John wants to brag about how much he won. “Sure. Whatcha got?”

  “You can tell me all about the game over beers later,” I say. That seems to appease him.

  “You know me too well, dude. What do you want me to run?”

  I rattle off the partial plate. I hear the clicking of keys on the other end as John types in the information.

  “Big database and not even full information. This could take a while,” he says.

  I feel the muscle in my jaw twitch. I reign in my anger. It’s not John’s fault we don’t have more to go on. He can’t make the technology work any faster. If I’d been standing I would be pacing the small office. Jameson and the tech guy stare at me waiting for the information.

  “I’ll wait,” I say with a shrug at the officers watching me.

  There’s a pause on the other end and I can hear him breathing into the phone. I imagine his mouth open about to say something but no sound comes out. There’s no talking me out of it when I make up my mind. I don’t want to hang up and risk not hearing the call when John does have information to give me.

  “Your dime, dude.”

  I hear papers being shuffled on the other end. More clicking of keys on a keyboard.

  “Are you typing something else? Can you do that while a search is in progress?”

  “Relax. Two systems. We can multi-task these days. You should try it. What’s this car been involved in?” he asks.

  I know he’s just trying to pass the time, the awkward silence that happens when you’re waiting for technology to catch up so you can tell someone something, begs to be filled. But it still annoys me. Everything about this whole situation has me boiling.

  “Possible kidnapping,” I say.

  Kidnapping. Once the word is out of my mouth there’s no taking it back. No one has said it up until now. I should have called her mother but I figure my dad will take care of that. Someone should tell Rachel as well. We’ll need to get her in to make a statement.

  I’ve never had anyone I know be the victim of a crime and I hate how helpless it makes me feel. I hate the fact that I know that in cases like this, where the perpetrator is moving up the scale of seriousness with each crime they’re committing, that things can escalate very quickly.

  If he does anything else to her, I swear I’ll kill him.

  John clears his throat. “We have a winner!”

  “Tell me.”

  I have my notebook and pen ready.

  “The truck belongs to one Drew Hollingswood.”

  “Thanks, John. Beers are on me this week.”

  I disconnect the call and tell everyone in the room that the truck does indeed below to Allyson’s ex.

  “And how the hell do you know that?” my sergeant asks from behind me.

  I turn around in the chair.

  “You’re not supposed to be working the case. Do I need to remind you exactly what I already told you?”

  “I have to do something, Sarge. I can’t just sit here and twiddle my thumbs.” I stand up so I can look him in the eye. “You have to let me work the case. I have to be doing something.”

  He frowns and I’m sure he’s going to shoot me down again but he says, “Fine, but only if you work with Detective Jameson.”

  I look over at Jameson who gives a slight nod in agreement. I look back at my sergeant. “Done.”

  18

  ALLYSON

  Unconsciousness slowly drifts away and I wake up wondering when I blacked out again. My head is fuzzy and the room is still cast in shadows. I blink, trying to focus on the wall of black that surrounds me. How long have I been out this time? The chemical smell is so strong now that I wonder if that’s what Drew’s using to make me sleep.

  This waking up is different. I’m still tied to the bed but now I feel a gag over my mouth that sucks the moisture away from my lips and tongue. My mouth is dry and I desperately want some water, even a sip to take the dryness away. In a moment of panic, I gag against the cloth in my mouth. My stomach lurches but I swallow it down, taking deep breaths as fear that I’ll choke on my own vomit makes my heart race. I need to get the gag off my mouth.

  I try to move again. A futile attempt but I can’t just lie here and do nothing. The rope digs into my skin but I keep tugging, hoping I’ll be able to slip at least one hand out. One hand is all I need to get the gag off and maybe loosen my other binds. I yank my arms again and pain tingles at my wrists. The rope rubs against the skin making deeper, raw welts. Though I know it probably won’t help, I tug at the ropes around my ankles too in the faint hope they’re looser now, but Drew’s knots hold strong.

  I feel so hopeless that I growl against the gag. Struggling isn’t working, and he didn’t listen to anything I had to say. This time, the last thing I remember is Drew telling me he’s going to give me what I want. And then him touching my thighs. Anything after that is a gone. Panic slices through me again and I try to take a mental note as to the state of the rest of my body.

  My arms and feet are still held tightly but I move them as much as I can to determine how the rest of my body feels. Did he do something to me while I was unconscious? A tear forms in the corner of my eye and drops to the pillow still cradling my head. I realize that I’m not sore between my legs. My inner thighs feel fine, too. I don’t feel like anything has been done to me. I feel stupid for feeling relief because he didn’t violate me while I was out cold when he could come back at any second and do any of the things he’s intending.

  I try to spit out the gag, pushing it with my tongue and my lips but he’s tied it too tightly around my mouth.

  With the gag around my mouth, I know I’ve lost one of my only hopes against Drew. If I could keep him talking, then maybe I could convince him to let me go or give someone enough time to realize I’m missing.

  Cory. I think of his serious eyes and sob again. Is he looking for me? Does anyone even know I’m missing? The thought that no one is co
ming to my rescue deflates my small bubble of hope and makes me cry harder. I rub my tears on the pillow to dry them, realizing I don’t have any early classes today. No one was expecting me anywhere, except Rachel who was going to come back past my dorm after her shift. Maybe she’ll call my mom if she can’t get hold of me. Will she notice anything’s wrong? My phone is at the station so she won’t be expecting to get through to me that way.

  As my heart beats faster to the point I think I’m going to hyperventilate, I take in deep breaths to calm myself. The chemical smell of the room makes my nose burn. What the hell has Drew got stored here? I don’t want to think about it. I need to get myself under control. Losing it won’t convince Drew to let me go.

  Where the fuck has he gone? Why would he drug me and take off? Maybe he’s out establishing an alibi for when it’s discovered that I’m gone. Maybe he’s out there trying to determine if anyone has reported me missing yet.

  Another thought creeps into my head. Maybe he’s gone to buy things, things he might use to hurt me. The possibilities of the instruments he might bring back sends a shiver of fear through me. While we’d been together we’d never gone so far in a masochistic direction, but he’s more controlling now and more interested in inflicting real hurt on me.

  I pull at my bindings again and moan with frustration when I get the same result. They’re not going to give. The waiting is the worst part. Time to think about what Drew will do to me when he comes back. Time to think about everything that I regret.

  I still can’t see in the darkness. It makes me wonder if we’re underground somewhere that light doesn’t penetrate.

  If the blow to the head hadn’t knocked me out I might have been able to figure out where I was based on the length of the car ride combined with the turns. But I wasn’t awake. I have no memory of how I got here no matter how much I rack my brain. I didn’t even come out of my unconscious state for a moment. Maybe he’d drugged me then too, not wanting to rely on the head injury to keep me quiet.

  Has he at least cleaned my wound and bandaged it? But I know the answer to that even though I can’t reach up and touch my forehead. If he cared about me the way that he says he does he wouldn’t have left me alone with a possible concussion after knocking me out again with drugs.

  The last tendrils of the drug are wearing off and my head is getting clearer. I wish I could sit up and look around. Is there even a light in this room? No matter how much I peer into the dark I can’t see anything. I don’t sense his presence and I’m both relieved and angry at that. But then I hadn’t sensed his presence in the room earlier either.

  I try to say his name but it sounds like ‘glue’ around the gag.

  I hate the desperate note in my voice. Would he answer if he is here? I stop all movement, strain my ears, close my eyes. I cock my head to the right, trying to pick up any sound in the room or beyond.

  Nothing.

  All I can do is wait.

  And hope that I’m not going to die here.

  19

  CORY

  I should be out on patrol with Simons but we’re still at the station, Simons helping the investigation and me in the gym burning off steam. Despite my sergeant saying I could shadow Jameson, they’ve banished me from the investigation room while they follow up other tips. It’s taking too long to get results back from the various databases and if I stay in the squad room with everyone I’ll lose it. Better to abuse a punching bag then say or do something that will get me suspended or fired.

  I swing at the heavy bag in front of me, my fist making a satisfying thud when it connects. The bag moves slightly and I hit it again with my other fist. I punch the bag imagining it’s Drew’s face and that each blow leaves his face a bloody mess. I give it a few quick jabs a little further down like I’m punching Drew in the stomach. Then I go up high again for the face area.

  All this waiting is driving me crazy. I hate letting other people run the searches and do the leg work when I should be helping. I should be out there looking for her. Maybe there’s a trail of some kind. Traffic camera footage that we can piece together to determine the route he took and therefore where they ended up.

  I need to find Allyson.

  Dad has been on the phone trying to find out what’s going on. But he’s not having a whole lot of luck either. Sergeant says we’re both too close to this. Allyson’s mom is a wreck. So much worrying that she can’t speak in coherent sentences anymore. Dad said that she’s been sitting, opening her mouth and then closing it again, almost as though she’s having an imaginary conversation. Crying. Outbursts of shouting that Dad needs to do something. That was when he called the doctor.

  I can picture Dad waiting by the phone with his own cell phone out on the counter, prepared no matter what number they call him at to give him more information. Anything to support his fiancée. But there is no more information yet. Why can’t the database searches work faster? The more minutes that drag into hours that tick by, the less likely we are of finding her safe.

  I hit the bag again, picturing Drew’s smug face. I imagine punching the smile right off him. I imagine him begging me to stop. Crying and pleading like the sick, weak fuck that he is. The bag jerks each time my fist connects with it and suddenly the bag isn’t enough. I have too much energy humming through my body to stay here. I need to be out there, pounding the pavement.

  The waiting is killing me.

  When it’s happening to someone else you don’t think the waiting is hard. I’ve told other victims, families of victims to just be patient and let us do our job. That we were doing everything we could to find their loved one. Fuck, did I really say that to people? No wonder they gave me looks of hatred and disbelief. Until it happens to you, you have no idea what it’s like.

  My breathing is heavy now after punching the heavy bag for so long. It doesn’t give me nearly the same satisfaction as clocking Drew would, but even when we find the bastard I won’t be able to do that. He’s not worth getting suspended or fired over. If he resists arrest, though, I can use all the force necessary to bring him in. For the first time in my life, I pray for a perp to resist arrest.

  If I don’t find Allyson, then my dad’s new life will be destroyed. His new bride, if she still goes through with the wedding, will be distraught. The relationship will become strained. She’ll withdraw into herself. I know she won’t be able to deal with the grief of losing her only daughter.

  I can’t think like that.

  We’re not losing Allyson. Not on my watch. Not on my dad’s watch.

  Drew’s a college kid but he obviously has deep emotional problems to resort to kidnapping. My fists clench tight and I hit the bag harder, this time, making it swing away from me.

  I take off my gloves and make my way to the locker room, eager to get back and find out what’s going on. Simons would have come and told me if they were ready to leave but maybe there are some leads. I quickly rinse off in the shower, don my uniform again and stride back to the squad room.

  The moment I walk in Detective Jameson smiles and stands.

  “We’ve got three possible addresses as a first step,” he says holding a piece of paper up.

  I reach out to grab it but he snatches it back. “You calmer yet?”

  “I worked it out. Tell me about the addresses.”

  “You don’t sound calmer to me.”

  I glare at Jameson and take a deep breath. “Trust me, I’m calmer. Let’s find her.”

  Jameson points to the first one on the paper. “Drew’s family’s address. His childhood home. His mom and dad are still living there.”

  I shake my head. “There’s no way he would take Allyson back to where his parents are. How is he going to explain his way around holding her against her will?”

  “We’ll send a unit over there. His folks should be aware of what he’s been doing with the photos and threats. They may have more information or other possible addresses. What about this one then?” Jameson points to the second address. �
�His parents have a cabin about an hour from here.”

  I study the paper, trying to think about what I would do in Drew’s position. An out-of-the-way cabin would certainly meet the objective of being more difficult to find but something about the idea doesn’t sit right with me.

  “This guy, Drew. He’s just a fucked up college kid. As much as he obviously has some kind of psychological problems, he isn’t a serial killer yet. Is he really gonna drive her up to his parent’s holiday home?” Detective Jameson looks at me like I’m crazy.

  “That’s exactly what I think he’d do. The kid’s a sicko.”

  “Maybe, but he also wanted Allyson back. What if all this is his attempt to get some time with her so that he can convince her that they’re meant to be together?”

  “Seems pretty extreme.”

  “Guys can get extreme about girls, especially when they feel like they’re humiliated. He didn’t like that Allyson dumped him. I think he wants her to change her mind.”

  “Well, the third address is his fraternity one.”

  I study the address and my heart races. “That’s not far from Allyson’s dorm.”

  Jameson shrugs. “I’ll send another unit over there but I think we should head up and check out the cabin. I bet that even if she isn’t at the frat house someone will have seen Drew. We can get an update en route.”

  I rub my hands over my face to take a moment to clear my head. I hate having to make a call like this. If we spend the time traveling to the cabin and Allyson’s found on campus, I’ll kick myself for not being there. But I’m already on thin ice and if I kick up a stink, Sarge is going to boot me off the case.

  “Okay, let’s go,” I say reluctantly.

  In the squad car with Jameson, my mind buzzes with thoughts. What are we going to find there? Drew obviously has issues. I remember the way he was holding Allyson’s wrist, tightly, prepared to use his strength against her. I suddenly feel sick when I recall the pictures of her and Drew. How rough he was with her. I don’t know what I think about it all. Did she like what he did to her? I find myself concerned for the first time about what might be driving the kind of preferences we have. I know I like the feeling of control and power. But I have to know that it’s a willing surrender on the part of the woman. I could never get off on really forcing someone. That shit is fucked up. I wonder what drives Allyson’s desire to play like she did. Could it be some fucked up psychological issues from her past? I don’t feel like mine is based on something bad, but it would be wrong to feed emotional demons if that’s what’s behind it all.