Chapter 9

She lay beside him that night, staring thoughtfully at the curve of his back as he faced away from her. There hadn't been any talk of separate rooms, both of them feeling the bubble of fear that surrounded them.

Kaylee had tried to sleep, but every time she closed her eyes, she saw the knife and his eyes, those strange blue eyes that looked so normal but hinted at the dark evil that lived inside of him. Maybe it was the way she saw the knife, the reflection of his eyes in the silvery shine of the blade, that made him seem so evil. Or maybe it was just that he was.

She also kept thinking of Tina, still in his grasp, tortured, raped, mourning the loss of her lover. That is, if she knew that Angie had been killed. But how could she not, not when they'd been in the same bed together when he'd stuck the knife in her chest. It had been quick, which was a blessing but one that would offer little solace to Tina when they got her back. If they got her back.

"I can hear you thinking from here," Gabe said.

"I'm sorry," she answered him, turning on her side to face his back.

"It's okay. My mind doesn't want to shut down either. I keep thinking there should be something I should be doing, some where I should be." He rolled over, pulling the covers up a little so that they covered the band of his sweats.

She looked so young, lying there in the dim light that came in the window from the street lights outside. Her hair was loose, falling like a dark satiny waterfall to the pillow under her head. She wore a tank top that clung to her curves and a loose pair of pajama pants that were held up by a thin tie. And all he could think of was that dream he'd had, of her giving herself to him. It wasn't conducive to sleep, especially when every time he closed his eyes, he saw her standing at the top of the stairs in that red dress, her hands cupping her breasts, teasing him with the look in her eyes.

"Would it help to talk over the case? Maybe I can help somehow?"

"I was hoping that getting away from it for a few hours, sort of clearing my mind would help." He ran his hand over his hair and the scrubbed it across the rough whiskers that were starting on his chin.

"But having me here means you can't really get away from it." Kaylee felt a tug at her heart, like disappointment. But what did she have to be disappointed over? Just the fact that she found this man so attractive, stubble, mussed hair and all, and he seemed to think of her as a kid and a case, why should she be disappointed over that?

"No, that's not what I mean, Kaylee. You're great to have around. You help with the work, you don't complain and you make some of the most interesting sounds when you sleep. Not quite a snore, no, more like a grunt." He laughed and ducked back when she reached out to slap him, grabbing her hand and holding it against the smooth contours of his chest without thinking.

"That's not nice," she said, though she smiled as he meant her too. "I don't snore or grunt."

"Then there must have been a pig in here sleeping with me last night," he said, his hand rubbing gently against the back of hers.

"Well," she said, feeling a little breathless. "You're the cop..." she said, letting the sentence trail off and seeing his grin.

"Nice," he said. "Put me right in my place, didn't you?"

"You started it," she quipped back at him, her fingers flexing reflexively under his.

"Oh, yeah, uh," he said, realizing that he still held her hand. "Sorry."

"It's okay." She watched his eyes, seeing the look in them as he stared down at her. The silence between them grew, stretching thin until she could barely stand it. "Well, we should get some sleep," she said.

"Yeah," he agreed, though he didn't turn away or close his eyes.

Kaylee felt the blush that started to heat her cheeks. The way he was staring at her, intense, heated, like he wanted to eat her whole, had her body feeling as if it would go up in flames. "Good-night, Gabe," she managed to whisper, turning on her back, her head facing the other side of the room.

She could feel his eyes on her even after she felt the bed move as he got comfortable. She forced her eyes to close, letting her lashes rest lightly against her cheeks, and made herself breathe slowly, rolling away from him to her side, as if she were asleep.

It didn't take long before she felt the bed move once more, barely resisting the urge to jump as his arm wrapped around her, his hand resting gently against her stomach. His chest pressed up against her back, her head tucked just under his chin. She turned her head, looking up at him.

He was grinning, definitely not sorry. "You weren't sleeping, and I wasn't sleeping, Kaylee. I just thought this might make us both more comfortable."

"Are you?" she asked, without thinking.

He flexed the hand that he held at her waist, sliding it up and over the hand she had just inches from her breast, enclosing her hand in his huge one. "Mmm, yes, I enjoy holding you," he admitted unabashedly. "You're a nice armful."

His blue eyes sparkled, his dark hair falling over his forehead, giving him a boyish look. She could feel his naked chest pressed warmly against her, her ass cradled against his hips. It sent a flicker of heat through her, just the awareness of how close she was, how warm he was, how very male.

"Glad I can help," she quipped, hearing his chuckle as he pressed her head back down.

"Go to sleep, Kaylee."

And amazingly, she did.

Tina's cries were hoarse, her throat raw. Pain racked her body, shooting from her ankles and wrists and from between her thighs where he'd forced himself into her, not once, but twice, his body slamming against her. She could only be thankful he wasn't built like some of the men she'd met who would have had her ripped open and bleeding as roughly as his fucking her had been.

He'd played with her body, enjoying her cries and the marks he made on her body with his hand and his teeth.

And all the while, he played with that stupid red ribbon.

She was going to die, she knew it. She also knew Angie was dead, a fact that the pervert had been happy to impart to her the moment he grabbed her hips, pushing into her painfully dry and tight body the first time.

He'd whispered to her, telling her the details of how he'd plunged the knife into Angie's chest, killing her before she even woke. The pain of his rape had seemed minimal compared to the pain of knowing that the woman she loved was dead. But now she could only be grateful that he'd made it quick, not raping and torturing Angie as he was doing to her.

He'd also told her how many days she had left to live, as if that mattered much to her now that Angie was gone. He'd just told her how many days she had left to deal with the torture and the pain before she could be gone from her, a blessing really. Because knowing was always so much better than not. Then he'd left her, after taking his blasted pictures, some with her legs splayed wide, and showing the trails of bloody semen coming from her. She'd hated those photos, knowing that people would be seeing the most intimate and grisly details of his abuse.

But he was gone now, leaving her to cry out the pain of her rape and Angie's death. He hadn't gagged her again, nor had he blindfolded her. Instead, he turned off the lights at the top of the steps, leaving her in the almost complete blackness of the basement. But as the darkness had grown familiar, she'd noted a small line of light at the top of the steps and two little pin point red dots that spoke of something electrical across the way. She held onto that little bit of light, using it during the hours that he was gone to keep herself from going mad in this strange place.

She had no concept of time, only of pain and of her breathing, concentrating on her breathing when the pain became too much to handle, focusing on each breath and any tiny bit of odor she might pick up. Sometime during those hours, she'd turned from thoughts of death, of making it easy for him, and thought instead, of revenge and how she would get free somehow, and then...

She heard a tiny click at the top of the stairs, her eyes darting toward the thin line of light. Shadowed impressions blocked part of it, feet of someone standing on the other side of the door. Was she being rescued or...

That hope died as the door opened and he came back down the stairs, smiling that same horribly insipid smile. In his hands he held a small white bag bearing the name of some fast food restaurant.

"I picked you up a sandwich and a coke. I hope you don't mind regular, I can't stand the smell of diet anything," he said, almost as if she were nothing more than a guest in his house.

Her stomach rumbled in response to the smells coming from the bag, though she hadn't felt hunger. She hated the thought that he heard it, and that she knew she would eat the food he'd gotten for her, using it to conserve her energy so that the moment she was free from this chair she would have enough strength to shove his knife straight through his crotch.

"Well," he said, waiting for her to speak. "Do you mind regular?"

"N ... no," she said hoarsely.

His smile was wide, as if she'd just given him the most special type of gift. He quickly tore the wrapper off the straw, poking it through the plastic lid on the paper cup and putting it to her lips.

She drank as if it were the last thing she ever was going to get. As far as she knew, it might be. But it was wet and wonderful, soothing her throat and easing the ugly hunger pangs. When he took it away, she surprised them both.

"Thank you," she said, meaning it.

"You're welcome," he said after a moment's stunned silence. He turned away, his hands shaking a little as he unwrapped the hamburger he had gotten for her. Holding it to her lips, he stared down into her ravaged features, watching as she took a bite and then winced as the hot meat juices stung the cut on the side of her mouth.

Tina didn't complain though, instead, she chewed and swallowed. "It's good, thanks. I was hungry."

He nodded, holding the sandwich up so that she could get another bite. When she'd finished, he gave her some more of the coke and then wiped her face with a wet cloth that he'd gotten from what had to be a sink, behind her.

"I ... I need to use the restroom," she said when he'd finished, hoping he would release her from the chair.

He turned and picked up an old bedpan, smiling at the disappointed look on her face. "You didn't think I'd release you, did you?"

"I hoped you would," she answered honestly. "These ties are really hurting me."

He sat the pan down, coming closer and kneeling in front of her. His hands went to the wounds around her ankles, pressing into them and listening as she hissed in pain. He trailed his fingers over the dried blood and the fresh that dripped from the angry cuts, lifting his hand and licking the red stuff from his fingers.

Tina forced herself to be calm, not allowing the disgust she felt to show in her face. He seemed to respond to politeness, so she'd be polite. She wouldn't rile him, not if she could help it. She would do what he told her if it would get her one step closer to being able to meet her revenge. She would get even for what he'd done to Angie, no matter what the cost to herself.

He smiled slowly, loving the taste of her blood, licking his thick lips suggestively. He saw her flinch, even if she thought she hid it from him. He knew he disgusted her, no matter what words she said. But it could be fun to play her game, as long as he was always one step ahead of her.

"Okay, my dear," he said slowly, dropping his hand to her naked thigh and sliding it up while he watched her eyes. He grasped her hip in his hand, wrenching her forward, enjoying her cry of pain. "You pleasure me, and I'll see to ridding you of the ties."

"You can fuck me whenever you like," she ground out between teeth clenched in pain. "You are the one in charge here."

"You watch too many movies, Tina. You really do. That 'you're in charge' crap don't hold water in the real world." He laughed, seeing the look in her eyes before she covered it by bowing her head. "Now, I'm going to stand up in front of you, sexy Tina, and you are going to open your mouth, slowly." He leaned forward, lifting her chin and staring into her eyes. "If you even think of biting me," he said, his hands dropping to her naked breasts, grasping her nipples in his fingers and twisting cruelly. "I'll pop these little beauties off like they're beer caps. Do you understand?" He twisted them again.

"Yes!" she screeched as the pain became unbearable.

"Good girl," he said, releasing her now red nipples and planting little kisses on the tips of each. "All better," he whispered, like a mother kissing a boo boo on a child.

Then he rose and she could see the thick bulge that lay under the thin material of his slacks. She watched as he undid them, letting them fall to his ankles. Then he grabbed the waistband of his underwear, yanking them down to his knees, his erect shaft springing forward. "Open up, sweetie," he said, his hips thrusting forward, his hand stroking eagerly over his red, swollen cock.

Tina did what she was told, closing her eyes before licking her lips and slowly opening her mouth."

A low moan could be heard, the sound of pleasure, not pain. Kaylee blinked sleepily, and then moaned again as the hand cupping her naked breast gently squeezed, long fingers rolling her taut nipple to even greater hardness. "Gabe?"

Her tank top was up, over her breasts, baring their ripe loveliness to his eyes and hands. He lay behind her still, his body pressed intimately against hers, only the fabric of his sweats and her pajama's coming between them. His lips pressed against the nape of her neck, hot and searing, following that tender curve around until his hand came up, turning her head to find her lips.

He kissed her with desperate need, his tongue making deep forays into her mouth, inciting her passions to an even greater scale than before until she was panting, turning in his arms, holding him. His weight pressed her into the mattress, flattening her plump breasts into his chest, groaning at the exquisite sensation of her sweet hard nipples.

She tore her mouth from him, trying frantically to catch her breath. But his lips moved, traveling down her throat, scalding her skin with his heat. He lapped at her collarbone, his tongue sending shivering rivers of pleasure that pulsed in her depths, making her squirm under his hands, her fingers digging into the skin of his back. He was her only stability in a dreamy world of passion gone mad with urgent lust.

"Oh fuck," she hissed when his mouth found her nipple, his hand capturing her other breast, squeezing the firm globe, teasing her other nipple. "Ahhh, God, Gabe," she cried, digging her fingers into his hair, her legs wrapping around his back, holding on to him. He pushed the tank top up further, ripping it off over her head and throwing it to the floor. Her pajama pants were next, his fingers fumbling with the ties before stripping them off of her body, leaving her clad in only a pale blue pair of silk panties, inset with lace across the low cut front, the sides held up by tiny strips of materials.