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3
Karma
The whoop-whoop-whump grows louder, infiltrates my mind. Darkness, so dark, I’m floating. The back of my head hits something hard. Red and white sparks flare behind my eyeballs. I crack my eyelids open and pain slices through my brain. I groan, and the sound echoes back at me. Sweat beads my neck, my palms. My sports bra is sticking to my back. Booty shorts? Check. My running shoes—I wriggle my feet—I still have them on. What happened? What—? The ringing in my ears whooshes up, engulfs me.
He shot me. The bastard shot me?
A trembling grips me; my arms and legs grow numb. The blood beats in my ears. My pulse rate ratchets up and my guts churn. Bile rushes up my throat and I cough. No, I will not be sick. Not now. I take in a breath, another. Focus, focus on the now, as Ma used to say. She was a hippie, who’d hitched a ride with my businessman father. Then married him and given birth to me and my sister. Bequeathed us quirky nicknames, which had ultimately made it to our passports…talk about fate, huh?
As to why she called me Karma? It was a joke, on me. Bad luck seems to dog my footsteps. How else do you explain this…this situation? Me being kidnapped by…tall, dark and dangerous?
My stomach flutters, my scalp tingles. No, no, I am insane. That brooding gaze, that mean glare? Damn it, what is it about me that I seem to attract the assholes, huh? I fumble around, shove my hand in the pocket of my shorts… No! My phone is gone. Of course, bastard had kept it, and then he had pushed the barrel of his gun into my temple. I had squeezed my eyes shut, the blood roaring in my ears, and then I’d heard the bang. Then nothing. But he hadn’t shot me. No he hadn't. If he had, I wouldn't be alive. And I’m pretty sure I am.
I run a mental check across my body... No, I don’t seem to be hurt anywhere. Which means, he had pretended to shoot me... Likely, shot into the air next to my head... Asshole. Clearly, he'd done it to frighten me...to get me to comply. What a bastard. My pulse begins to drum. Why? Why did he do that? What is he going to do with me?
Whoomp-whoomp-thump.The hell? I stiffen. The container I am in rocks from side to side…very gently. Not a boat… I am in a… I glance around the enclosed space. There’s room for, maybe, one more person, a very small person… My foot grazes something. I feel around with my sneaker. There’s something springy—made of rubber. A tire? A car honks, muffled, as if coming from a distance or through a layer of metal. A car. I am in a vehicle? In the trunk, probably.
I snake my fist out and into the curved barrier around me. "Ow!" Pain glances down my arm. "Let me the hell out!"
The vehicle seems to speed up. My heart begins to hammer so fast, I am sure it's going to break out of my ribcage. This is not good... I really shouldn't put so much stress on my heart... I was born with a hole in my heart, which hadn't been discovered until a few years ago. It isn't life-threatening, yet. But it could be, if left untreated. The doctors had warned that I would need a procedure soon, but for the time-being, they had put me on medication to see if it would help.
Meanwhile, I'd been told not to exert myself... Instructions which I hadn't adhered to, of course. It's why my sister Summer is overly-protective of me. It's why I had gone running in the park, and why I have refused to take the medicines; because I hate feeling less than anyone else. I had wanted to prove to myself that I was fine.
Damn it, if I hadn't gone running, he wouldn't have come across me and kidnapped me. OMG, he's kidnapping me. Adrenaline laces my blood. My heart beat instantly spikes. That's not good, not good at all.Calm down, take another breath, and another.I manage to calm myself down somewhat.
Where is he taking me? Why did he kidnap me? I have to get the hell out of here. Have to. I join my fists, draw in a breath, then yank them up. Connect with the overhead covering. The loud thunk fills the space. I cry out. Pain slices down my arms and my shoulders hurt. There’s a screeching sound, audible even through the layer of metal. I am thrown forward, then back. All movement stops. Hell. I’ve done it now. I’ve gotten their attention. Jesus H. Christ, are you somewhere around? I’d never prayed when the nuns had held mass, but damn it, if you are there… Please, please… I bring my knuckles to my mouth, suck on the throbbing flesh. Help me, God.
The cover flies up and light pours over me. I squeeze my eyes shut, then crack them open, just a tad. Wide shoulders, a massive chest that blocks out the daylight. His features are in repose, the sun to his back. I can’t see his face, but I know who it is. Him.
"Move over." His hard baritone whips through the space.
"What?"
He swoops out his hand, grabs my shoulder and pushes me back. Then swings a leg over and inside the boot.
The hell?
He sinks down.No, no, no. He can’t be doing this.
"I am."
He lowers his big body and I scoot back, all the way back in that enclosed space, until my back is flat against the barrier of the car… He sinks down into the space I vacated. If he gets in here with me, we’ll be face to face, chest to breasts, thigh to thigh, crotch to— I turn my back on him, as he lowers the last of his bulk into the already cramped space.
"Good thinking." His voice rumbles down my back.
"At least one of us is," I growl, "because, clearly, you’re not in your right senses… You—"
The cover of the boot slams down and a tiny light bulb flicks on just above us.
"What the—?" I blink, stare up at the illumination. It’s not much, but at least, I can see my nose in front of my face.
"Say thank you, Beauty."
"Go fly a kite."
"You can do better than that."
The vehicle roars forward, slamming me back and into the wall of his body. Every hard, corded, coiled inch of him surrounds me. I gulp. Dense waves of heat sear my back, sink into my blood, snake into the hollow between my thighs. Oh, hell!
