Along for the Ride

by Saskia Walker

  “I think you’ll work with me when you hear about my little investment. Let’s call it security.” Greg laughed at his own joke. “I’ve got the girl. Georgie.”

  Georgie? Jason fought the rising nausea. He’s got Georgie?

  Greg’s smug smile lasted the split second it took Cal to lurch back across the room and punch it right off his face.

  Jason snatched at Cal, wrestling him back and hauling him away. “Leave it, Cal. Don’t make it any worse. Fuck knows, we don’t need that.”

  “Let her go, you parasite.”

  “You just made a big mistake.” Greg peeled himself from the wall where he’d landed, gesticulating wildly with one hand, clutching at his nose with the other, and backing toward the door. “I told you you’d regret it if you didn’t stay out of it!”

  “What makes you think I won’t call the police?” Cal demanded.

  “My men are with her. You wouldn’t want them to ... scare her, would you?”

  Cal shrugged Jason off, glaring across the room, but he stayed his ground. “If you or your goons lay a finger on her, you’re dead.”

  “Jason, get some material for me to work with; get something from Zoë if you have to. I’ve invested too much in this scoop to let it go now. If, within three hours, I have something worth publishing, I’ll let the woman go.” Blood darkened his hand, and he snatched into his pocket for a handkerchief to plug his nose.

  “You bastard,” Jason muttered through clenched teeth.

  “Just do it.” His hand was on the door handle, and then he was gone.

  Jason was stunned.

  “Jason?” Cal’s voice held a fierce, threatening undertone. His hair was awry, his expression dark with fury.

  Jason backed away, his hands raised. “I’ll call Kelly. I’ll get Zoë’s number.”

  “Too right you will.” Cal paced over to the window, his back turned.

  Jason didn’t blame him. While he dialed and the phone rang out, he cursed himself for not taking action earlier. Kelly shouted down the phone at him when he told her that Georgie was being held somewhere against her will. He didn’t blame her for being unforgiving, either.

  “I’ll give you her number, but you better apologize to Zoë ...” she threatened.

  “I will. Believe me, I will.” She dictated the number and then finished the call by telling him not to bother coming round to visit her, Frank, and the kids until he had sorted it out. Then she slammed the phone down.

  Could he feel any worse?

  Cal turned back to him expectantly.

  “I’ve got the number. I’ll make sure we get something to pay him off. I’ll go see Zoë now and work something out.”

  “I’m not sitting here waiting! Call Greg and get him to meet me. I’m not letting that goon out of my sight until I know Georgie’s safe.”

  “Do you think that’s wise?”

  “Wise? Don’t you tell me what’s wise and what isn’t.” Cal was fuming.

  “You’ve got every right to be angry, but I didn’t ask for any of this.”

  Cal’s eyes were blazing. “Yes, you did! This morning you practically admitted this mess had come about because you refused to admit how you felt about Zoë.”

  Jason swallowed. That hit him hard. “I’m not denying it, but who are you to criticize? You’ve spent your life avoiding intimacy, surrounding yourself with lovers you keep at arm’s length.”

  Cal shook his head. “So I’m a pathetic loser, too. Is that it?”

  That hurt, but he deserved it. “You don’t have to be, but I’m afraid you might let the woman you love walk away because you’re always striving for some higher damn purpose in life.”

  “That’s not true,” Cal bellowed. “I don’t intend to let her go.”

  He meant it. Jason swallowed. They stared each other out, the wall of tension between them slowly crumbling.

  “Promise me that you won’t lose her.”

  “I won’t.” Cal groaned mightily. “She’s the thing I’ve been looking for. Fuck it, Jason. I’ve got to get her back. I can’t imagine life without her.” He pushed his hands through his hair, his eyes wild.

  Jason grabbed him by the shoulder. “We’ll get her back right now. I promise.” He picked up the phone and dialed Greg’s number.

  “New plan. Meet with Cal. He’ll stay with you until I bring you something.”

  A loud tirade emitted from the receiver.

  “I don’t give a toss about your nose. If you don’t agree to it, there will be more than your bloody nose broken.”

  He glanced over at where Cal sat on the sofa, his hands clenched into fists against his eyes. While Jason made the arrangements with Greg, he hoped the Austrian wouldn’t lose it, not now, when he needed to remain calm for Georgie’s sake.

  “Okay, get gone. He’s agreed to meeting, you but only in a public place and with his men present. He’s suggested the foot of the castle. He’ll be there in half an hour.”

  Cal nodded and reached for his jacket.

  “Try to avoid hitting him again, until we get Georgie, yes?”

  Cal looked calmer, but he didn’t reply.

  “Look, I seriously doubt that she’ll come to any harm. Gregory and his men are small-time con men, that’s all.”

  “Yes, I know,” Cal conceded as he shrugged on his jacket. “But will she ever forgive us for this ridiculous jaunt and all the trouble it’s caused? Oh, fuck it, Jason. I’m in love, and I’m shit scared.”

  Jason swallowed down the rising emotion and grasped his friend in a hug. “Get gone, Austrian. You know she wants you; you’ve just got to tell her you want it, too.”

  “Hark at the expert.” Cal broke into a weary smile.

  “It’s easy when the boot’s on the other foot. That’s my excuse. Now fuck off and let me make my call to Zoë. I don’t want you to see me making a fool of myself.”

  Cal shook his head, but saluted and left.

  When the door shut, Jason turned to the phone. As he picked up the receiver, he prayed to the heavens he wasn’t about to receive a spurn that would send them all sailing up shit creek at breakneck speed.

  Chapter Twelve

  Georgie’s troubled sleep brought her a dream in which she seemed to be captured inside Calvin’s painting depicting her in orgasm. She was trapped in the confined space, trussed and bound and riding an enormous vibrator, for some reason unable to reach the point of satisfaction. Cal was there, and her heart ached for him. She could see him standing outside the painting with a paintbrush in his hand, which he reached in to her and dabbed seductively at her nipples, as if coaxing her to reach her climax. She thrust her hips against the rigid thing underneath her, but she couldn’t move properly, and she knew that she was unable to climb out of the painting as a result.

  It was the sound of low voices that brought her out of the depths of those troubled dreams. Her eyes slowly began to open.

  She was back in the hotel room, in bed. Or was she? Her mind slowly unraveled what had happened to her before she’d been asleep. Random thoughts and images began to tumble in, slowly at first, then quicker and quicker. She’d been captured. Gregory had taken her and drugged her.

  Where the hell was she? She struggled against the lethargy that held her body solid against the surface of the bed.

  Her eyes became accustomed to the light, and she saw that it was indeed a hotel room, but not the one that she had begun the day in. It was another generically designed hotel room, the type that could be found in any city in the world, differing only marginally with the choice of prints on the walls and the curtain fabric. That morning she had awoken to jazzy abstract prints in bright blocks of color; now she was looking at a watercolor depiction of Edinburgh Castle.

  She felt groggy and surreal, as if she were still half in a dream world. Moving her head slightly, she could make out a figure sitting on a chair at the end of the bed. Its head seemed to be very large, a big white blob sitting on a black sack. She squinted hard, trying to
bring it into focus.

  “Hey, take it easy,” the blob said when she tried to sit up and failed miserably. She slumped back onto the pillows and then realized that the blob had developed a face. The movement brought him into focus, and she could see it was a huge beefcake of a man with a shaved head. He was wearing a black T-shirt and jeans and sat on a stool, leaning forward with his elbows propped on his knees. Which possibly accounted for the disproportionate image that she had first encountered. In the background she could see another figure standing near the window. She squinted and blinked. As he came into focus, she realized it was the man who had restrained her in the back of the car, the one that she had kicked in the shin. He was chomping noisily on an apple while he watched her waking up.

  As her awareness increased, she realized that she was under a sheet and that she was no longer wearing her dress. She moved to clutch the sheet against her chest, wondering what the hell had gone on, and it was then that she realized her hands were tied together at the wrist. Her heart began to pound out an erratic beat. She was fast filling up with a sense of panic.

  “Rest up now; don’t fret.”

  She struggled to focus.

  The man got up and came over to her. He looked concerned and glanced back at the other man. He shrugged but came closer, too, abandoning his apple core to the bin on the way past.

  “Just chill, little lady.” It was the one from the car. He was obviously in charge. “We haven’t touched you, and you’re perfectly safe. We had to take off your dress because it was in such a state. It looked like you had been rolling around on your hands and knees in the grass.” He laughed, unaware that was exactly what she had been doing.

  It set her teeth on edge.

  “It wasn’t our fault that you weren’t wearing any underwear, now was it?” He gave a mocking tut-tut noise, his eyebrows lifting.

  Georgie glared at him. “What do you want with me?” He had his arms folded over his chest, standing with a half-smile on his face, amused by the whole thing. The other one, the blob, looked embarrassed over the issue of undressing her. Had he done it? Had he touched her naked body?

  He hung his head and looked at the floor. The other one was obviously the boss, so she glared at him again. How dare they keep her here against her will? And to top it all, she’d lost her new lingerie. Bastards!

  “Just relax and you won’t get hurt. We’re just keeping you here for a while. Call it ... a bit of security.”

  Georgie’s muddled mind tried to make sense of the whole thing. These men worked for Gregory; that much was obvious. She couldn’t figure out why they wanted her, though. What had she to do with it? What had happened since the morning? What had happened to Cal and Jason?

  “How long are you going to keep me here?”

  The one from the car looked at his watch. “Not long now. How about some lunch?” He was talking to her as if she should think it was a treat.

  “Untie me now or I’ll scream the place down!”

  “No point. The walls are thick, and there really is no need. We don’t intend to hurt you, and you’ll be free soon. Just take it easy and choose yourself some lunch.” He propped the room service menu next to her on the bedside table. The two men walked away and had a quick discussion out of her range of hearing.

  She was hungry, she couldn’t deny that, but she would resent taking their offer of food. However, if someone came from room service, they might realize her predicament and raise the call for help. She cast her eye over the menu with more purpose.

  “Get me a steak sandwich, with fries, and a very strong coffee to sort my head out.” She glared at them.

  The blob nodded, wide-eyed, and went straight to the phone and ordered for her, as if she were the boss. He was obviously a gofer by nature -- he even did what she said.

  When the order had been placed, the men resumed their conversation by the window. They seemed to be at odds. The shaved-head man wasn’t comfortable with the situation; that much she could make out. She looked around the room, searching for potential tools or weapons. She noticed her clothes in a heap next to the bed, alongside her bag. Somehow the sight of her possessions made her sigh with relief; they were a tangible link to her real life. Somewhere out there, Cal cared about what was happening to her. He would be looking for her. Deep in her soul, she had to believe that, to make her brave.

  When room service arrived and rapped at the door, the man in charge silenced the other one and came back over to her, pulling on a leather biker’s jacket as he walked.

  He flipped a key card up in his hand and pointed at the door. “This is the only key, and when I go out, you are in here with Foster until I come back for you. When I come back, you go free. It’s that simple. Just enjoy your lunch. Have a drink from the bar fridge.” He smiled benevolently.

  Georgie snorted in disgust.

  “Foster will look after you, and don’t worry, he’s a big softy.” He laughed to himself as if at some private joke, and stood up. At that point, the one called Foster walked around the other side of the bed and sat down beside her. He put his hand over her mouth, keeping her still with the massive bulk of his body leaning over hers. She was pressed right down into the pillows. Her ears were muffled to sound, and she could only vaguely make out that there was a discussion going on at the door.

  A big softy? Georgie thought, as she looked up at the huge man hovering over her. He looked like a bouncer. She blinked and twisted her head as much as she could beneath his hand. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the other man accepting the tray and setting it down on the table, and then he disappeared out the door, which closed after him with a distinct vacuum suction sound.

  “Is this what you do for a living? Kidnap women?” Georgie snapped when Foster slid his hand away from her face and allowed her to move more freely again.

  “No.” He looked defensive, his eyebrows pulled together in concern. “I’ve never done anything like this before. I’m just a driver, that’s all.”

  “A driver?”

  “Well, I’m a fly-by-ferry.”

  “What on earth does that mean?”

  “I’m like a film runner. When the flashers -- the photographers -- get the stars on film at their premieres, or wherever ...” He looked shifty as he tried to explain. “I’m the one that collects the gear from them and takes it down to Fleet Street, while they go off in search of more action. Although there’s not so much work for me since all this digital equipment came along ...”

  He drifted into silence for a moment, and Georgie wondered if that was why he was here, through lack of work.

  “That’s all I do. I’ve never been involved in anything like this before. As far as I was aware, it was just another driving job.” He shook his head, glancing at her with a concerned expression.

  Georgie considered him with curiosity. Presumably he had driven them all up to Edinburgh. When they hadn’t got the photographs directly, they’d had to come up with a new plan. They must have asked him to do this because he was the one who looked the most like a bouncer. So, she was supposed to find him threatening enough to be a good girl while he guarded her. Ha!

  He was patently unskilled for the job they had given him. She might well be able to talk her way out of captivity. Her mind began moving rapidly, trying to figure out the best way to handle him. He was very large and strong. His shoulders were massive, and someone had obviously carried her to bed. It must have been him with those big, beefy arms of his.

  She was still busy measuring him up when she reminded herself that she was supposed to be talking her way out of the situation, not speculating on the strength and physique of her captor. However, when she focused on him, she realized that he was doing exactly the same thing as her -- he was speculating about her body.

  He was busy staring at the outline of her breasts where they marred the smooth surface of the sheet with their peaked nipples. When he glanced up and realized that she had caught him looking, he looked embarrassed. Georgie’s mind sta
rted to home in on a plan. She would embarrass him some more, and distract him with her body. She would bloody well seduce her way out of the place, if she had to!

  “You undressed me, didn’t you?”

  He actually blushed. He looked ashamed of himself, really ashamed, but also aroused, as if her confrontation had stirred him up some more. There was something decidedly furtive about him. How much had he secretly enjoyed undressing her? Had it turned him on, touching her and seeing her all naked and vulnerable? Was he a peeping Tom? The possibility of his dirty little antics was fast inspiring her with a plan.

  “I guess you had to do as you were told?”

  He nodded vigorously, his expression very sheepish.

  “Look.” She wriggled her shoulders, hoisting herself up against the pillows. Her left breast was almost totally uncovered. She could see that he had moved his head marginally so that he could peek at the tightening nipple just under the edge of the sheet.

  “Your mate said this would be over soon, right?”

  He gave a fractional nod of his head.

  “Well, can I just get a bit more comfortable? I promise not to make this difficult for you. I can see you’ve been asked to do a job that isn’t really your scene. Am I right?”

  “Yes.” He nodded. “What do you want?” He moved as if to pass her the lunch tray. She shook her head and began wriggling in the bed.

  “I need to sit up. Can you help me?” She gestured with her bound hands under the sheet, nodding back at the headboard. If he sat her up, he could ogle all he wanted while she made her next move. She resisted the urge to chuckle -- the expression on his face was priceless. It had obviously dawned on him that he’d get a good look if he did as she asked.

  He gulped, stood up, and reached for the sheet. He paused, and then slowly drew it down over her chest, gingerly.

  “Mmm, that tickled.”

  She thrust her breasts out as he uncovered them, and he stood hunched over her, staring. She lifted her wrists up, gesturing, and he slipped his massive hands under her arms and easily lifted her up against the headboard, as if she were just a small cushion he was rearranging.