Beyond Ransom (The Ransom Series)

by A. T. Douglas

  And my blood is the ink.

  The door opens behind us, and I’m relieved to see Leo enter. He’s trying to act casual, but I can tell behind his slicked-back dark hair and cloudy blue eyes that he’s frantic right now. I’m sure he heard the cry of pain that I just sent soaring through the entire building.

  I reach for the knife, and it’s as if I just took the pin out of a grenade. Mark pulls me back, pain tearing at my shoulder in the movement, as every man at the table stands up and the closest one grabs the handle of the knife. The entire room is up and ready to move to action.

  “I want to do it,” I say quickly. “I’ll do it myself, just give me the knife.”

  Mark throws me forward into the table in his release of me. “You really think I’m that stupid, girl?”

  “You really think I can stab someone within feet of this audience?” I motion around the room with my non-injured arm.

  Mark’s circling the table again, considering what I’ve offered. At the same time I’m wondering what the hell I’m thinking. I’d like to think I asked to do this because I can be more gentle harming my own body than if I let Mark or one of his men do it. The reality I know to be true is that I’m trying to maintain some form of the power I’ve felt since last night. I want that control in any way I can get it.

  Mark nudges the man holding the knife. “Give it to her.”

  The man looks up at his boss in shock. He clearly disagrees with the decision that’s been made.

  This is working out even better than I thought. I’m causing discord among Mark’s own ranks.

  “Give her the fucking knife, Willis, or do I need to test its sharpness on you first?”

  That’s all the encouragement the man needs. He extends the knife to me hesitantly, and I cautiously accept it.

  It’s a small blade, but its precise edge tells me it’s plenty sharp. It takes me a moment to figure out how to do this. Mark was right when he said my shoulder issue would make this harder.

  Holding the knife on my injured side, I slowly bring my other hand close to it. There’s a shakiness in the movement that I can’t control, as if some part of me is fighting back against my actions from the inside. I will past it, though, and touch the blade to my skin.

  It’s a sharp, almost burning pain across the tip of my forefinger. Crimson blood instantly pools out of it and begins to drip down my finger toward my palm. I quickly turn my finger downward toward the paper to write my message.

  In all the commotion, I didn’t even consider what I’d write. This is my chance to communicate with my parents, and for a moment I’m clueless what to say.

  There are so many things I would be expected to say–that I love them and miss them, that I’m okay and holding on for them to save me–but I quickly find that there is only one thing to say to them.

  In the time it’s taken for me to come up with my message, a few drops of blood have already fallen onto the page. I feel like I’m involved in some fucked-up art project as I slowly draw my bleeding finger over the paper.

  Even though the message is short, it takes a second fresh cut to pull enough wet blood to write it.

  I’m so sorry.

  – M

  When I’m finished, I ball my hand into a fist to help stop the residual bleeding. In the metallic scent around me and the red liquid spread over the page in front of me, I suddenly feel surrounded by blood, and for a moment I panic at what I just did and the message I’ve just written.

  Mark grabs the paper from the table and inspects it, the psycho teacher reviewing his student’s work. His mouth turns into the widest grin. “Well done. I think your family will love it.” He pats me on my injured shoulder, causing me to wince. “Now to take care of this little problem. It’s your lucky day, though. Leo is an expert at resetting dislocated shoulders.”

  Leo stands up before Mark even finishes talking. He looks pissed off, more than ready to get me out of this room. He grabs me by the other arm to pull me up to standing.

  “Oh, and Leo,” Mark says as we’re about to reach the door. “Take the girl to the showers. I don’t need her stinking up the place.”

  My eyes go wide as the whole room groans loudly in disappointment. Leo apparently just won the damn lottery.

  He nods back at Mark before pushing me out the door.

  11

  Protocol

  “What the fuck were you thinking?” Leo is angry with me as we’re walking down the hallway, and I can’t deny that it scares me to see this side of him. “I didn’t even have to be in the room to know you did something to provoke Mark into knocking your shoulder out of its socket.”

  I stop in my tracks behind Leo, becoming increasingly angry that he’s upset with me for pushing back a little, for standing up to Mark and not giving in to his every fucking wish.

  Leo comes to a halt and turns around, approaching me with his hand extended like he’s going to grab my arm and drag me, but I pull away before he reaches me.

  My temper snaps, and I can’t control it. “You do realize my entire life has been one endless succession of people ordering me around? I’m not sure I’ve ever made a significant decision that was completely my own in all my life.” I think on this statement for a moment and correct myself. “Well, until last night, that is.”

  It takes a moment, but some of the anger finally leaves Leo’s face. He looks behind him and then to the hallway past me, checking for onlookers before closing the distance between us. His hand is on my good shoulder with the slightest touch, and I can almost feel the warmth of his body radiating into me.

  “I’m trying to protect you, but I can’t protect you from yourself,” he says in frustration.

  I take the opportunity to grab Leo’s free hand with my own and squeeze it gently. It’s not clear to me why I feel like he needs support more than I do in this moment, but I want to give it to him. For a moment the cement walls and stale conditions of the prison around us seem to melt away and it’s just the two of us standing there, perhaps both trapped and lost. I wonder if together we can be free. Maybe we can both be found.

  “I’m not being self-destructive just for the hell of it,” I explain. “I’m learning not to be afraid, and I guess that has consequences.”

  “You should be afraid.” Leo’s face and tone are serious. He pulls me by our connected hands to encourage me to move again.

  “Why do you keep saying that? Mark’s a bad guy. I get it. I’ve seen it. Why do you feel like you need to engrain this in my brain?”

  Leo glances back to me as we make a turn at the end of the hallway. “Because one of these days he’s going to break you, and I won’t be able to stop him.”

  I’m about to press him further when we come to what appears to be an empty locker room. Half of the space is filled with bathroom stalls and sinks, and the other half features an open tiled space with showerheads and temperature knobs on the wall. I’ve never been happier to see a shower in my life.

  Leo directs me to a long counter under a metal mirror that covers the wall. “We need to fix your shoulder.”

  I have no idea what he needs me to do, but it doesn’t matter because he takes care of everything for me. He scoops me up in his strong arms and lies me down on the counter with my injured shoulder hanging off the side.

  The way I’m lying here looking up at him reminds me so much of last night, and I can see the same feeling reflected in his hungry eyes. For a moment our heavy breathing is the only sound between us, but the moment quickly fades away.

  Leo seems to snap out of it as he adjusts his position around me, grabbing my wrist with one hand and putting pressure against my armpit with the other hand. “This is going to hurt like hell,” he warns, “but the pain will go away afterward.”

  I take two deep breaths, though I’m not sure they really do anything to prepare me for what he’s about to do. “Ready.”

  “I’m sorry,” he whispers, and with slow and steady force, he pulls my arm while countering with pre
ssure at my shoulder. I scream out involuntarily and squeeze my eyes shut. It is the most excruciating thing I have ever felt in my life, but when my shoulder clicks back into place there is instant relief.

  Leo holds me there a moment until I brave an attempt at movement of my arm. It’s still tender, but I have free range of motion of the joint again. Leo put me back together.

  “Thank God,” I say, utterly relieved.

  “You don’t have to call me God,” Leo says with a smirk.

  I’m so grateful for the little bouts of humor he sometimes injects into our interactions. Despite it all, he can still say things to make me smile.

  I sit up and try to hop off the counter, but Leo abruptly stops me. We’re having one of those moments again, those connections that start from something so insignificant as a glance or touch but cause the most intense feelings and desires to boil up within us. I can see it written all over his face and feel it in the heat that takes over my body.

  “I’m supposed to let you shower now,” Leo says, his voice low and sultry. He tips his head down and leans forward just enough so that our foreheads are touching, our faces aligning perfectly with each other.

  “Mm-hmm,” I mumble. My body reacts naturally to his advance, nuzzling my face against his until his hands are at my waist. His fingers move quickly up to my neck before he flips them over and trails them slowly down my skin to the top of my breasts.

  “Your skin is so soft,” he breathes out. He moves his head back just enough to allow space for our lips to meet. “There are no words to describe…” his voice trails off as his tongue finds mine. He’s given up speech at this point, continuing our conversation with movements instead of words.

  He pulls away from me mid-kiss, barely able to squeeze out one word before I pull him by his neck and shoulder back to my lips. “Protocol,” he mutters.

  “What about protocol?” I quickly ask between kisses, ready to move on from this talking business.

  He pulls away completely this time and steps back out of my reach. “I’m not supposed to touch you like this. There are rules I need to follow.”

  I think for a moment, though it’s hard to concentrate when my mind is in collusion with my body to get this man to touch me anywhere and everywhere again. It suddenly comes to me. “What does protocol say about me touching you?”

  Leo stands there a bit bewildered. I give him two whole seconds to come up with a reason why I shouldn’t strip him down right now.

  He says nothing.

  I hop off the counter and stumble the few feet forward against Leo’s solid chest. My open palms run up and down the defined lines of his muscles one time before taking his shirt up with me the second time. With his height over me, I’m barely tall enough to get the shirt over his head.

  When his shirt is off I take him in, every curve of his abs and the slight sheen of sweat on his darker shade of skin. I’m overwhelmed by the canvas of tattoos that is his chest, my fingers running over them as if to learn their stories and meaning through my touch.

  I quickly realize that there are other markings on his skin, the kind that he didn’t put there himself. Raised white scars are scattered throughout him: some in lines, others in circles, some with jagged edges, others perfectly straight. They likely tell a much different story than the tattoos. I want to learn all of them, but not right now.

  Right now I’m too busy unbuttoning his jeans and working them down his hips. My hands immediately go to the arousal in his black boxers. I stroke him gently with my touch at first, and his body shivers in response.

  I need to give Leo more, taking my hand away from him to pull down his remaining clothes. It seems so natural to seem him standing there naked in front of me and just as natural for my hand to grasp him fully. He is gorgeous, a perfect specimen, and more man than I have ever seen in my entire life.

  My lips reengage his, kissing him more fervently now as my hand works him up and down. I can feel his control slipping away even before he makes a move for the bottom of my shirt and breaks our kiss to get it over my head.

  “What about protocol?” I ask as he unclasps my bra from behind my back.

  “Fuck protocol.”

  He’s desperate now, kissing at my neck and biting gently at my skin there. When the air touches the areas he’s kissed, I feel a cool tingling sensation on my skin that somehow only increases the heat burning inside me.

  The kisses follow to my shoulder and then down my chest to my breasts. I’m still holding on to him, squeezing him and stroking him as he expertly unbuttons my shorts and pulls them down with my underwear.

  We’re both naked and desperate, lost in each other for this moment that is solely ours and feels so right. I’ve never felt this level of attraction with someone. I know this is wrong, that this man is just as guilty in my capture and torture as Mark, but I want this. I know I shouldn’t like it, but I do, so I continue letting Leo caress my breasts and neck and lips with endless kisses while I feel him and pleasure him and bask in this experience with him.

  After one last particularly passionate exploration of my mouth with his tongue, Leo forces himself away from my lips and my touch.

  “Shower,” he pants, pulling me with him next to one of the showerheads on the wall.

  He takes only a moment to turn the knob before he returns to kissing me, wrapping his arms around my back so that my breasts press up against his solid chest.

  I can feel the icy temperature of the water splashing from the stream as it meets the tiled floor until warmth finally works its way into the water droplets that hit us. Leo pulls back slightly, his shoulders entering the water first until he pulls us both into the warm stream.

  My lower body trembles as Leo’s fingers find my clit, rubbing me and caressing me there. I break our kiss and clutch his shoulder in my body’s natural response to what he’s doing to me. It only makes me grasp on to his cock harder and pleasure him faster. He seems to harden even more within my hand.

  Knowing that he’s close and that I’m the one who’s causing this reaction in his body is enough to push me orgasm, my hips rocking against his touch as I cling desperately to him for support from the high and the shakiness it causes in my entire body. It only takes a few quiet gasps and moans of pleasure from my lips to bring him to release, and he grips me back just as tightly during his orgasm.

  We don’t say anything as the water rinses us down and washes away the remnants of our intimate exchange. Leo holds me, and I hold him back. I wish we could stay connected like this forever.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispers. I can feel him shaking his head over my shoulder in our embrace.

  Even though he can’t see me do it, I smile. “I’m not.” I pull back to look up at him, his eyes laden with concern and guilt. My hands move up to his face, trying to work away the worry there. “I don’t know what it is about you, Leo. Being here with you, being in this whole situation… it’s done crazy things to me. I’m not the same girl you originally threw in this place.”

  “I know, and I’m sorry we’ve taken that from you.” He turns away. He can’t even look at me.

  “What I’m trying to tell you,” I continue, “is that I’m fine not being that girl anymore. In some really strange and fucked-up way, I like who I am here. I’m not as afraid anymore. I make my own decisions, or try to anyway, even if there are consequences. I fight for what I want. I’ve never lived like that before.”

  “Then you’ve never truly lived.” Leo’s face is sad as he says it, almost with too much understanding. Perhaps he knows where I’m coming from.

  “No more sadness,” I say, grasping both sides of his face to force him to look at me. “No more worry. I’m in this. It’s happening whether I like it or not, so I’m going to make the best of it. I’m going to live, Leo, even if it’s only for a short amount of time before Mark puts me in the ground.”

  I can’t help the constriction in my throat at saying these words. It’s the first time I’ve really acknowledged
to myself that there is a true possibility I will not survive this. It’s the first sign that in some ways I’ve given up hope of rescue completely.

  All I have left is Leo.

  My hands slide down his shoulders and arms to sneak around his torso, pulling us together as tightly as possible as his gentle touch encircles my back. His breathing is deep and steady. He’s strong, not just in his bulging muscles, but in the resolve with which he seems to take each breath. I want to embrace that strength, to take a part of it with me when we leave this room and let it bolster me and help keep me in one piece so that I may continue to live.

  Leo sighs deeply. “I just want to protect you in the way that I was never protected.”

  “What do you mean?” I pull back and look at Leo, needing to see his face.

  A crashing sounds from down the hallway. Someone is nearby. The thought of getting caught like this with Leo makes my heart race, though not completely out of fear.

  Leo looks mortified, immediately releasing me to turn toward his clothes long forgotten on the floor. “You need to finish. Quickly.”

  I take only a minute to scrub myself roughly with my hands, the dull, throbbing pain in my shoulder completely unnoticed in the residual effects of what just happened between me and Leo and in the adrenaline shooting through my veins.

  Leo helps me get dressed without a word, and the moment we step out of the locker room we’re back to what we really are: a captor and his captive.

  12

  Reality

  By the time I’m back on the cot in my cell, my heart rate has slowed significantly. I feel like I can breathe again.

  I won’t deny the exhilaration I felt in getting intimate with Leo in the shower and almost getting caught, which is stupid because everything about Leo’s attitude when I stand up to the rules tells me that going against Mark is a bad idea. I should heed his warnings about Mark, but I’m stubborn, and I’m enjoying the small moments I get to rebel.