Stockholm Syndrome

by Brooks, JB

  But now they were awake again and the long hours of sleep had revived her fighting spirit. He would have to take precautions for their drive through Rockhampton.

  He called Owen for an update. “How’s my Range Rover doing?”

  “Is that how you greet your only brother? What possessed you to get it in black? It gets so fucking hot!”

  “Don’t you know how to switch the air-con on?”

  “As a matter of fact, smart-ass, I’ve been parked for hours. I’m at a fuel stop on the edge of town waiting to see when the roadblock clears.”

  “Can you see them?”

  “Yeah. They’re still in business. But it’s already half past two. I reckon they’ll pack it up in about an hour. How’s my van?”

  “Underwhelming.”

  He saw Evelyn emerging from the trees. “I gotta go. Let me know when it’s safe for us to go on.”

  He leaned into the van and pulled out the Esky that Owen had provided.

  “Come get something to eat.”

  “Oh, so you don’t starve your prisoners?”

  “Come on, Evelyn. You know I’m not going to harm you. I haven’t hurt you and I’m not going to.”

  “Oh no, of course not! You’re the most considerate rapist I’ve ever met. Or should that be the kindest kidnapper?”

  “Do you want food or not?”

  She peered into the Esky and grabbed a bottle of water, twisting off the cap eagerly and gulping it down. When she handed back the empty bottle, he passed her a packet of crisps and an apple. They munched in silence for a while. Owen’s selection was classic convenience store, but they were hungry, and the food was soon gone.

  “So where exactly is your ranch?” asked Evelyn, licking chip crumbs from her fingers.

  “Don’t do that. There’s a pack of hand wipes on the passenger seat.” He tugged surreptitiously at his jeans, trying to ease the strain on the hard-on that sprang up, in defiance of all logic, every time he saw her, or even thought about her. “My ranch is about sixty kilometers northeast of Rockhampton, on the Capricorn Coast. It’s five hundred hectares. I’ve got fruit trees, cattle, and horses.”

  “You said you’re wealthy. Are you a farmer?”

  “Hell no! That’s a hard way to make a living. The ranch is just for my enjoyment. I like the privacy. I’m a software developer and a businessman.”

  “Oh.” She opened the passenger side door of the van to find the hand wipes. “Oh! Here’s my backpack!”

  “Yes. Owen went past your place last night. He found it by the door and decided to bring it along. Were you going on a trip?”

  “I was going to Africa to climb Kilimanjaro. I was supposed to fly out this morning. Now all that money and planning’s wasted, thanks to you.”

  He ignored the jibe, adding the trip to his mental list of things he had to recompense her for. “That sounds quite adventurous. Who were you going with?”

  “Nobody. I was going to join a guided tour when I got there.”

  “You were traveling to Africa alone?”

  “Don’t sound so surprised. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

  “I am surprised! Don’t you have a boyfriend or something?” He was suddenly very interested in her answer.

  “No, and I don’t want one. Men are nothing but a headache! I had a husband for three years and that was enough, thank you very much!” Her bitter tone intrigued him.

  “So what do you do for sex?” He shouldn’t have asked, but it was the first thing he thought of. In fact, sex was just about the only thing on his mind when she was around.

  “I don’t do anything, not that it’s any of your bloody business!” She glared at him. “I can’t believe we’re having this conversation. Sex is vastly overrated, and if I didn’t think so before, I sure as hell do now.”

  “If you think that, then you’ve obviously never had great sex.” Some inner demon made him taunt her.

  Her cheeks flushed. He loved the way her color heightened when she got angry. He hastily changed the subject as she opened her mouth, no doubt to tear a strip off him.

  “Nobody’s going to be looking for you then, are they?”

  Her mouth clamped shut with a snap and the blood drained abruptly from her face.

  “Of course they are,” she said faintly, but they both knew it was a lie.

  She wiped her hands clean then unzipped one of the compartments of her backpack. He saw her hastily transfer something to the pocket of her jeans.

  “I’ll be right back,” she said, and turned toward the trees.

  “Wait! What are you doing? What’s in your pocket?” He moved toward her.

  “Nothing!”

  “Evelyn, I saw you take something out of your backpack and put it in your pocket. Tell me.” He crowded her up against the van, resting his hands on the metal on either side of her shoulders.

  “Oh, for goodness sake! It’s just panties.” She waved the lacy scrap of cloth in front of his face. “You cut my others, remember? My jeans are hurting me so I want to go put them on… Or aren’t your prisoners allowed underwear?”

  Lust pounded through his body, coalescing in his throbbing cock. He fought the urge to lean closer and press his hips against her. She was naked under her jeans, and her pussy was tender—because he’d ground his cock into her mere hours ago. The thought stirred his possessive instincts, a slumbering beast prodded to wakefulness. He spoke through gritted teeth.

  “Since I think of you more as my guest than a prisoner, of course you can go put your panties on.”

  She ducked sideways under his caging arm and rushed into the trees, but not before her saw the alarm in her eyes. A rush of self-recrimination threatened to swamp him. What the hell was going on with him? He’d frightened her again, which was the last thing he wanted, but god, she did something to his self-control! He felt as if he were waking out of a four-year coma.

  ***

  Evelyn stopped in the middle of the grove of trees, her heart pounding in painful squeezes. Mason wanted to fuck her again! She’d seen it in his eyes, pupils dilated so wide that the green was hardly visible.

  She didn’t think he’d actually act on his impulse beyond intimidating her, as he just had. In fact, she rather trusted him, to a limited extent, because he was so obviously upset about what had happened. In no way would she relent in her quest to see him brought to justice, especially since he had added kidnapping to his list of crimes. Arrogant and spoiled, he needed to learn that people were not just objects to be manipulated for his amusement, but she didn’t think he’d try to have sex with her again even if he wanted her badly.

  She toed off her trainers and carefully stood on top of them, trying not to get sand on her feet. Getting her tight jeans off was a tricky balancing act but she managed it, and breathed a sigh of relief as she pulled her panties up her legs. Before settling them into position, she pressed her fingers against her pussy, trying to soothe the aching flesh. Her cunt was hot and swollen, and sore ’round her opening. She hadn’t had sex since her divorce, and although he’d climaxed quite quickly, Mason had given her a real pounding last night.

  She pressed more firmly, gently massaging herself, and then looked down at her fingers glistening with silky moisture. She ran her thumb over the wetness then brought her fingers to her nose and sniffed. She could smell her own familiar scent of arousal, combined with a hint of something strange. Mason. His come was inside her, mixing with her own excretions, creating a new odor. She inhaled again.

  But why was she so wet?

  Yes, she’d been admiring his naked torso while they picnicked, but not in a sexual way. He was a strikingly handsome man with a magnificent body. She’d have to be dead not to appreciate how his muscles bunched and flowed with effortless strength as he moved. He was like a sculpture come to life, hard marble hidden under golden skin. However, she’d been to many museums and galleries around the world, and admired many works of art, and other than pleasing her aesthetic sense, they hadn�
��t affected her at all. So why should Mason Brady?

  Yes, when he’d crowded her against the van, her heart had raced and her body had flushed and tingled with adrenaline, but that was from fear. Nothing else could explain the intensity of the reaction. She was so jumpy around him that her body obviously panicked when he was in close physical proximity to her. She nodded firmly to herself. It didn’t explain the wetness though…

  She shrugged and pulled up the panties then struggled back into her jeans, wishing she’d thought to change into a pair of shorts for the heat. But she wouldn’t put it past him to come looking for her if she took too long, so she yanked on her trainers and jogged back to the van. He wasn’t there, but she heard him whistling in the bushes on the right.

  She checked the cab of the van. He’d taken the keys with him, of course. She took the opportunity afforded by his absence to dig out her birth control pills from her backpack and swallow one of the tiny orange tablets. She’d just started a new card, having timed her period to end right before her African trip, so she had a whole month’s supply. Thank goodness Owen had found her pack.

  She jumped when Mason spoke just behind her. Damn, how had she not heard him?

  “Are you ready to go, Evelyn? Owen texted me a few minutes ago. The roadblock has gone.”

  “Do I have a choice?” She stuffed the pills away and faced him.

  “Not really.” He smiled at her, and she blinked, so disarmed by the transformation it brought to his otherwise uncompromising features that she almost missed what he said next. “I’m going to tie you up for the drive through Rockhampton.”

  “What? No! Why? Please don’t!”

  “I’m sorry, but I just can’t take the chance that you might do something foolish, or try to attract attention.” He went to the back of the van and leaned inside, reaching for something.

  ‘“I won’t, Mason. Please, I’ll just stay in the back.” She was furious to feel tears prickling behind her eyelids, but she’d be damned if he saw her crying.

  “Come here, Evelyn. Give me your hands.” He held the lengths of soft black rope that he’d used to tie her up before, running them through his fingers caressingly.

  She looked around frantically. There was no obvious escape route, and running was pointless since she didn’t know where to go. Her heart thrummed. He stood waiting patiently for her to figure it out.

  She approached him slowly, reluctantly, her unwillingness evident in the taut lines of her body. She stopped an arm’s length away from him, pressing her arms stiffly to her sides.

  “Hold them out, Evelyn.” His voice was barely more than a rough whisper.

  Hesitantly she extended her arms toward him, holding them awkwardly, palms down, fingers curled into fists. He took her hands gently and turned her palms inward, placing them together.

  “Keep them like that now.”

  He folded a length of rope in half and, starting near the folded end, looped it around her wrists, once, twice, three times. Then he passed the long end between her arms and started wrapping it around the loops that encircled her wrists, filling up the space between them so that there was no slack. He worked carefully and unhurriedly, and she found herself staring at the rope, entranced, as he pulled it caressingly between her hands. He took particular care not to chafe her skin or pinch her as he layered the neat coils. His tanned hands were strong and his fingers were long with short, neatly squared-off nails. Capable hands. Sexy hands. She wondered which fingers he’d penetrated her with, and flushed in shock at her thoughts.

  “How does that feel?” he asked when he finally tied off the ends and tucked them away.

  “Er… Okay,” she answered, glancing at him curiously. He sounded so strange, and he was staring at her hands intently.

  “Yeah, it looks good.”

  Now what did he mean by that? It was a tidy job, and she certainly wouldn’t be escaping anytime soon, but his tone was so…appreciative. But before she could ponder his strange mood, he lifted her and sat her in the back of the van, with her feet dangling out the open doors.

  “Ankles too.”

  He folded up her jeans neatly, exposing her legs to the calves, then repeated the procedure with the rope to tie up her ankles. She sat quietly, watching him twist and knot the rope with rhythmic movements.

  When he was finished, he sat back and looked at her, as if admiring his handiwork. She watched his eyes darken with desire and a realization tingled through her body. Mason Brady got a kick out of tying up women.

  She had no time to process this new insight about her captor because he grabbed her legs and flipped them sideways into the van, rolling her onto her side on the mattress. Working quickly with a third length of rope, he looped it ’round the bindings between her hands then secured it to the ropes around her ankles, pulling it taut. She squawked, realizing that he’d immobilized her in a deeply bent position, with her hands close to her feet.

  He slammed and locked the doors then climbed into the cab and started the engine.

  “Don’t make this unpleasant, please, Evelyn. Just lie down and keep quiet. We’ll be home in about an hour.”

  “I can’t stay like this for an hour! It’s extremely uncomfortable!”

  “Yes, you can. Just relax, and it won’t be so bad. Don’t fight it.”

  He reversed the van out of the trees then drove along the dirt road for about ten minutes before indicating and accelerating onto a smooth surface, the highway, no doubt. As the van picked up speed, she wriggled around until she maneuvered her head onto a pillow.

  At last she found a less uncomfortable position, and settled down to think about escape. He was very strong and she was no match for him physically, but she was quite sure that she was the smarter one! He didn’t know it yet, but he’d met his match.

  Unfortunately Mason’s assessment of her situation was accurate. Nobody would be looking for her for at least two weeks. She was on leave from work and from the family counseling center where she volunteered on Tuesday and Thursday evenings. She’d told all her friends and family not to expect any calls or texts—she was heading off to Africa, to wild regions where there was no mobile phone signal and no Internet.

  When they finally realized she was missing, they’d have no clue where to start looking for her. It wouldn’t take the police long to determine that she’d never caught her flight to Tanzania, and they would soon find out that she’d used her access card that night at the university, but after that…

  There was no logical explanation for her kidnapping, no motive to provide any clues. It was a freak accident. And now Mason was taking her far, far away from where it happened. Her trail would be long cold by the time the search started, and would lead to a mystifying dead end. She had no hope of rescue in the foreseeable future, unless she could save herself.

  Feeling very brave and proud that she’d faced the reality of her situation without crying or panicking, Evelyn turned her thoughts to her captor.

  What a mass of contradictions he was, filled with regret about what had happened, yet ruthlessly determined to see through his crazy plan of keeping her prisoner until he somehow convinced her not to turn him in to the police. He’d openly admitted that he had no idea of how that was ever to be achieved, but was sure he’d think of something. In the meantime, he was adding to his list of crimes and inflaming her desire for revenge. Just look at the undignified and uncomfortable way he’d trussed her up!

  And speaking of inflaming desires, he wanted to fuck her. He made no effort to hide it, the arrogant bastard! Though honestly, if she’d met him under any other circumstances, she would have been so on board with that, which was a huge issue in itself given that she’d sworn off men for life. God, what a mess!

  But she prided herself on her ability to solve problems, and the dilemma in this case was clear. She had to persuade Mason that she wouldn’t go to the police. And she’d have to be very, very convincing.

  A plan formed in her mind. A risky, terrifying, audac
ious plan. She wouldn’t even consider it if she could find another way. She needed to see where he was taking her first, in the hope that there would be some other option, but if not…

  ***

  Mason negotiated the traffic of Rockhampton with care. Evelyn was very quiet, but he doubted that she’d fallen asleep again. While he was grateful that she wasn’t fighting with him, the silence made him uneasy. What could she be thinking?

  He considered what to do with her once they reached his ranch. His plan, such as it was, was to treat her like a guest and get to know her better. He hoped that she would likewise get to know him, and realize that he was a decent guy.

  If he could persuade her to accept money, his problems would be over immediately, because if the police got involved, he could claim that she agreed to sleep with him for payment, then changed her mind afterward. It would be her word against his, but the transaction would support his claim. He was man enough to admit that it felt like a cheap trick, but there were more people involved, so he’d do it if he got the chance. But she’d refused his offer of financial compensation, and he wondered if she’d guessed his strategy, or if it was simply because of anger and hurt.

  So unless she changed her mind, he was back to getting to know her, and hoping that something would come up.

  He snorted. Something was up and it wanted to get to know her inside and out. But of course, that was the one thing he mustn’t do.

  It was late afternoon when he turned into the long, winding dirt road that was his driveway. He caught glimpses of the house through the trees as he approached, a magnificent old Queenslander. He loved those flashes of pale walls, the gray roof, and the crunch of gravel under the wheels as he pulled up next to the kitchen door—the sights and sounds of home.

  His Range Rover stood on the other side of the door, and as he turned off the engine, Owen came out of the house.