Repercussions (The Hot Mess Duet Book 1)

by B. L. Olson

  Something falls off the hanger and I bend into the closet to pick it up. The moment I straighten, an arm reaches around me and pins my own to my side and clenches across my stomach. Before I can let out a scream a rough hand clasps tightly over my mouth. Every sense in me screams that this is not Wyatt nor is this some sort of game. My mind is in shock and for a moment I just stand there, trying to catch up with the scene that's playing out.

  Dread and horror are starting to wash out all other thought and I begin shaking from the anxiety that is building inside of me. I've found myself in a dark situation and I need to figure out what the hell is going on so I can get the fuck out of it. I can't let panic dictate my thoughts or else something horrific may happen.

  Hoping to get the upper hand, I move to knee him from behind but he anticipates it and increases the pressure of his hold. A voice growls into my ear, "There's two of us and one of you. No point in struggling, sweetheart." A cold unrecognizable laugh stops my struggles for a moment as panic overtakes me once more. What the hell is going on? Two of them?

  The stranger starts to back up with me in tow and I renew my efforts to get out of his grasp. I thrash my head and kick my legs out to no avail. This man must be made of stone because even my well-placed kicks don't phase him.

  A second voice floats across the room, "Get her on the bed, I've got the ropes to restrain her."

  A muffled cry escapes me. I'm shaking so badly it's no wonder the man behind me isn't vibrating. I am thrown onto my bed and a knee is placed roughly between my shoulder blades, keeping me pinned to it. My arms are harshly pulled behind my back and I feel the coarseness of rope against my skin followed by a sharp bite while it is pulled and knotted tightly.

  Once those are bound they move to my legs. I kick out my foot and try to connect with anything within reach, faces, knees, their freaking dicks, but to no avail. I am outnumbered and before long I am hog tied, humiliated, and in a complete case of denial of what might come next.

  I am forcefully turned over and sat up, and for the first time, I'm able to get a glimpse of the intruders. They are both covered head to toe in black, ski masks covering their faces and only a small patch of skin and their eyes are visible. One takes a few steps back and leans against the doorframe, arms across his chest. I'm glad to see he has a relaxed stance because inside my heart is pounding so hard it's a miracle I haven't exploded into a million pieces yet.

  The other man is standing in front of me, his whiskey brown eyes twinkling behind his mask at my predicament. Who the fuck gets off on tying up women? Oh, this man fucking apparently. I consider screaming but with no one home, Wyatt either at or getting off of work, and an almost deaf neighbor, I realize it would just be wasted energy. So I decide to save my breathe and demand answers, "Why are you doing this?"

  He narrows his eyes at me and glances over his shoulder at the other man before turning his attention back to me and responding to my question cryptically, "This is your fantasy, Annie."

  "What the heck are you talking about? What fantasy? I don't have any fantasies! And how do you even know who I am?" I babble in panic. I glance around the room, looking for anything to use as a weapon, any way to possibly escape. And realize then that either is futile. It's two against one, my phone is across the room, and I don't have access to my hands or legs.

  "Your boyfriend sent us sweetheart." He reaches out and caresses the side of my face. I attempt to use the only weapon available in my arsenal, my teeth. I whip my head and only manage to graze them along with his palm before he whips his hand back and smacks me across the face, a sob escaping my lips, "He also told us to get a little rough with you, that you will enjoy this so much more if we do."

  I blink away the tears that sprung with the force of his hand, "There has to be some miscommunication somewhere. Wyatt would never send someone to threaten me like this."

  "Well apparently he would, why else would we be standing here?" He jerks his thumb at the man behind him, "Do you think you're the only one in need of our services?"

  I bark out, "I'm not in need of anything! I just want you to untie me so we can call Wyatt and get this all straightened out. Can we do that?" My anger dissipates and becomes almost pleading. If they would just talk to him, they would know that this is a mistake. That they are scaring the ever-loving shit out of me for absolutely no reason.

  "We can't do that, sweetheart. This is your rape fantasy, isn't it? We gotta make it seem as real as possible so you can relive it over and over again in that pretty little head of yours." He reaches out to caress me again but seems to think better of it this time.

  I wouldn't have even noticed if he had, because my heart has skidded to a stop in my chest and my brain is screaming at me to breathe. Sucking in a ragged breath and letting it back out, I try and piece together this puzzle that becomes less clear the farther we get into it.

  I know deep in my gut that Wyatt would never send these men. Not only have we never discussed a rape fantasy, because I sure as hell don't have one, but he is a protector by nature. But… There is one man just twisted enough to do it. And the more I tug on that thread of thought, the more it makes sense. I humiliated him, someone, whose ego rivals the ever-growing universe. Now he is just returning the favor and upping the ante.

  That limp dick mother fucking bastard.

  This is a new low, even for him. Just when I think that I can move on from the mental warfare that was waged and the man who brought it, he brings me right back into his stupid messed up world. Maybe I can use the newfound realization and talk my way out of this though.

  I try to wiggle to the edge of the bed but end up falling over awkwardly, my room and everyone in it now sideways, "Did you happen to get the name of the man who sent you? Cause my real boyfriend would never do it, he used to be a cop. But if it was Travis then he's just an asshat who likes to try and insert control into my life. And if he's the one who told you to come, then you really really don't want to do this. I am talking criminal charges for actual rape. No fantasy here." I'm prattling in panic.

  "Lady, I just know what we were told and paid for." Turning to address the man in the doorframe he holds out his hand, "Where's that pocket knife we packed? We probably should have undressed her before we tied her up." My heart speeds up in my chest at the realization that talking my way out of this is not going to be possible. They don't care what I have to say, rationalizing in their minds that this is just all part of the sick game.

  The man who seems to be in charge advances on me, knife now in hand and a dark look in his eyes as he peruses my body with them. He climbs onto the bed and roughly rolls me to my back, sitting on my chest with a knee on either side.

  He flicks his wrist to extend the blade and reaches for the collar of my t-shirt. Not even caring about the potential to be stabbed, I try my damndest to get out from under him. I put all my weight into trying to buck him off but he's too heavy and has the advantage. I don't care if it's a futile attempt though, if I'm going down then I'm going down swinging.

  He barks at the other man as I try to fight him off, "Get over here and hold her down, would ya?"

  The man in the door frame straightens and rounds the bed, eyeing me to find the best possible leverage. He taps the first on the shoulder in silent communication and he moves off of me. I attempt to throw myself off the bed before I am overpowered again, but they're too quick and I am inhibited by rope.

  The second man, this one with ice blue eyes, sits with his knees on my thighs and leans across my body to pin my shoulders to the bed. The first reaches under him to finish with my shirt, silent tears starting to track down my face. The will to fight is slowly leaving the more I realize that I have no advantage. No strategizing, pleading, or struggling is going to get me out of this.

  All I did to deserve this was stand up to Travis for the first time in my life. Now I am experiencing some serious repercussions for my actions, ones I wish I could take back if it meant I didn't have to be in this mome
nt.

  Once my shirt is sliced open from collar to the bottom hem, he reaches behind me to unsnap my bra which causes me to start openly sobbing and pleading, "Please, please, please don't do this. I don't care what you were hired to do, this isn't a game and I want you to leave right this instant."

  They ignore me and once my bra is unsnapped he begins to cut the straps keeping it trapped to my body. First one is sawn through followed quickly by a second. He grabs the material and moves to throw it and freezes in place at the click of a gun from the direction of my door.

  My heart soars, the sound familiar to me. Trying to peer around the man trapping me to the bed, I see my Gunslinger taking up the door frame and a look of barely restrained murder in his eyes. He takes a couple steps into my room and puts the barrel to the back of the head of the man holding me down. The same one that was pointed at my own heart just weeks ago. My how things have changed. The cry of sirens call out in the distance and Wyatt looks pointedly at me to let me know that others are on their way.

  The man without the gun trained on him tries to make a run for the stairs, but Wyatt is too quick for him. He swings out a long leg to trip him and he face plants into the wall next to my bedroom door, blood gushing from his probably broken nose. Pulling another gun from a holster at his ankle, he directs it towards the now injured man and grinds out in anger, "If those sirens are any indication, the police are right behind me. Unless you want a bullet in your head, I expect you to sit here and be quiet until they shove your asses in the back of that squad car. Do you understand?"

  They nod in acknowledgment and don't move a muscle. Smart men, even in my terror and with the shakes from shock racking my body, I"m even a little afraid to mess with Wyatt at this moment. Peering up into his face, I witness the panic he is trying hard to tamper down. No need to expose a possible weakness to the two men who could try and take advantage of it. He is just as haunted about where this almost went, scarred like myself with what I almost had to endure if he hadn't shown up.

  Luckily for the both of us, Wyatt has become close with the local police department after meeting with the captain following the BBQ at his father's about returning to the force. They must have taken his call and brought in the cavalry, officers choosing that moment to swarm into my room with guns cocked, taking over the arrest of the two vagrants who Travis hired to give me the ultimate humiliation.

  My mind finally catches up and realizes that my breasts are exposed to the world and I throw a blanket over myself while Wyatt holsters his weapons. He speaks to one of the officers for a quick moment before he turns and sits down on the bed next to me.

  The men are placed in cuffs and escorted out of my bedroom and down to the squad cars outside. Once we are alone in my room, I fling my arms around Wyatt's neck and let out the sobs that I have been holding it in my attempt to appear strong. All the while, he murmurs soothing words into my ear and gently rubs my back, waiting for the tears to subside. It takes several minutes before I am able to catch my breath again. Wyatt grips either side of my head and tugs it to make eye contact with him.

  Wiping the tears from my face, he sputters, "Jesus, Annie. If our rooms didn't facing each other and I hadn't gone upstairs to change the moment I got home-", his voice drifts off because we both know what would have happened. I can't dwell on the alternative or I will fall apart all over again. I have to be strong, not just for myself but for Wyatt as well. He lost one woman already on top of his mother, I know he's hurting as much as I am.

  I lean forward and give him a chaste kiss in an attempt to comfort him before responding, "When did you get home?"

  "Just a few minutes ago. Fuck." He drops his grip on my face and runs his fingers through his dark hair in a sign of stress, "I think my heart shit itself when I glanced out the window and saw those two fuckers in your room. I don't think I ever ran so fast. Thank God I plugged the police into my speed dial so I could call them as I was booking it over here."

  "Travis sent them." My heart is slowly returning to a decent level, having nearly shit itself as well, but with the return to normal comes the shakes that follow the loss of sudden adrenaline.

  Despite trying to hide it from Wyatt, his eagle eyes notice and he wraps me up in his arms once more, "He's not going to get away with this Annie. Even the most conniving man slips up, and I will do everything to find the proof to put him away for this, I promise you."

  "I know you will." I murmur into his chest.

  He curses under his breath again, his grip on me tight but welcome. We stay like that for several minutes, our hearts slowing down and matching beat for beat as our chests are pressed together. He kisses the top of my head and loosens his arms on me enough that I can reach for his face and tug it to mine for a fierce kiss.

  I try to convey with it my gratitude for rescuing me from a potentially life-altering situation. For wanting me despite my flaws and my past that is constantly biting me in the ass, and for caring enough about me to put himself in harm's way to save me. I deepen the kiss, knowing he also needs the reassurance that I'm here, I'm safe and alive, and I'm sure as hell not ever going anywhere that isn't with him.

  Chapter 19- Wyatt

  Repercussion #464: Your dreams are usually either a warning or a reminder of your lessons already learned. If you choose which incorrectly you may just end up doomed to repeat history.

  That night, I fall into a fitful sleep with Annie snuggled up and my arms wrapped tightly around her. Whether the embrace is for her peace of mind or my own, I really don't know or care. All that matters is that she is safe from a horrific situation and hopefully soon her guilty ex will be behind bars where he can't play his stupid games anymore. Too bad my subconscious took his bait and decides to warp the usual memories that haunt me.

  My nightly dream, the one I've had a million times over, starts to play out just like it has every other time since I had to say goodbye to my wife Brielle. I'm halfway to work and pull up to a long line of bumper to bumper traffic when I notice lights flashing on the road ahead of me. Dozens of police cars, two ambulances, and a firetruck are blocking the way and cops are frantically prying apart two vehicles. Putting my car in park, I reach into the console for my cell phone and place a call into the precinct to let them know I would be late and check if they need additional help on the scene.

  I'm immediately suspicious when they transfer me straight to my captain, "Haynes. I need you to weasel your way out of there and get to my office. Pronto." Despite the demand, Captain Woodward almost seems frantic, which is an unusual behavior for the stoic man. Did something happen at work? Do they need me there for a case?

  I start to stress, the calm and happiness I am feeling begins draining from me, "I can't sir, I am in my personal vehicle so I can't flash my lights and I'm blocked in on all sides. Do you have something for me?"

  The silence on the other end of the line is almost deafening and my heart starts to pound. The captain never behaves like this. Usually calm and reserved, he prides himself in maintaining a level head at all times. Answering to him frantic? Yeah, my gut is screaming at me that something happened that I'm not going to enjoy.

  "Son, I have some officers heading to your vehicle right now. They will get traffic moved so you can get here." His words sound confident, but the warble in his voice tips me off that maybe something has occurred. Something I am not going to like one bit.

  "What's going on Captain? Brief me before I get in, please. I'm not sure how long it will take to get me out of here." Weaving in and out of the parked cars, two officers approach my truck with a grim look on their faces. Whatever has happened ahead can't be pretty to wear down two professionals that witness bad shit for a living. I recognize one of them and give him a small wave while I wait on the captain to respond.

  "Haynes, get to the precinct. That is an order." Woodward's gruff voice shoots through the line and down my spine. He ends the call with a click.

  Sighing and setting my cell phone in my cup holder, I unfo
ld my long legs from my car and greet the approaching officers with a head nod. The familiar looking cop, Officer Agney if I remember correctly, approaches me looking glum. He puts a gentle hand on my shoulder and soothingly states, "Captain Woodward needs you at the station and asked us to give you a hand getting out of here."

  Realization is beginning to sink in and my knees start to shake with it. The captain and these officers absolutely do not want me at this scene, and there is only one person or rather persons, in the entire city that would have everyone acting jumpy around me.

  Sidestepping the officers, I move to head toward the commotion ahead. Agney grabs my bicep, bringing me to an abrupt stop, "Haynes, your captain needs you at the precinct. You don't have time for this." I shake him off angrily and march determinately towards the accident scene to prove to myself that I am just being ridiculous. I am just imagining everyone acting odd and walking on eggshells.

  The first thing I notice as I approach is the coppery smell of blood, splashes of crimson red on the side windows and windshield, and some droplets already starting to form a pool underneath one of the vehicles. The closer I get the more my heart pounds in my chest and the colder my body seems to get. One of the vehicles is a police cruiser, the other a little VW Jetta. The cruiser is parked on the street in front of my favorite place to get breakfast and it looks like the Jetta side swept it. The crew has gotten the cars slightly separated and are working the jaws of life on the cruiser, the side of it completely smashed in.

  Looking at the assigned cruiser number on the vehicle, my heart stops altogether and I drop to my knees. That's Brielle and her partner's cruiser. Looking around frantically I see her partner, Amy, off to the side sitting on the curb. Her face is blotchy and swollen from the tears still streaming down her face, shaking from shock. I know then and there that something tragic has happened.