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Rainer took a knife and started to work on Sophia’s bonds. Her wrists had been strapped so tightly that it looked as though the blood supply was being cut off.
“I don’t know. Esme seemed to recognize him. She was scared. Really scared. The guy said that if you ever wanted to see Esmeralda alive again, then you should usethat.” She held the walkie-talkie out toward Rainer. He took it.
As he looked at the old-fashioned, boxy piece of plastic, Rainer cycled through who on earth would have done this. It couldn’t have been someone in the MC. They’d all been at the election. Plus, Sophia would have recognized him, too. It could have been someone from Esme’s past, but he was sure that she would have told him about anyone who might pose a threat to her.
Then, it hit him. The stalker. The guy who the police had taken away.
But how would he have known to come to Rainer’s place? Had the guy been watching this whole time? He must have brought the duct-tape because he knew that Sophia was here, too? And why on earth would he have left a walkie-talkie?
“I can’t believe this is happening. I can’t believe I let the two of you face so much danger. I can’t even protect my Little. And I think I should be the fucking president of the club.”
Sophia rose from the chair. “It’s not your fault, Rainer.”
He wanted to work through his options. But he didn’t have time. He had to act, right now.
So, he lifted the walkie-talkie to his ear, and clicked the button.
“Whoever this is, you’ve got my attention.”
A voice on the other end of the line replied. “I’ve got a lot more than that.”
Esme had been tied up a bunch of times before. She’d been restrained and strapped down. She’d been held in place and she’d been forced to stay still.
But none of it had ever hurt. And none of it had ever been against her will.
This was different. So, so, so different.
She sat in the dark, looking at the thin crack of light that was her only connection with the outside world. She hoped — she prayed — that soon, somehow, Rainer was going to appear, and he was going to pry those heavy doors open and let her out.
But with every passing minute, her hope was dwindling.
“Please!” she shouted. “I need the bathroom!” It was true. She didn’t have some clever escape plan. She just needed to pee, badly. There was no response, so she shouted again, even louder this time. It took a full five minutes of her shouting before someone came to the door.
As the gap cracked open wider and light flooded the shipping container, she squinted, her eyes adjusting to the influx of light.
“Jeez,” said the voice of her captor. “Even like this, you look beautiful.”
When she’d first seen her stalker, she’d remained mildly optimistic. Maybe he’d come to apologize to her? It hadn’t taken long for her to realize that his intentions were far from honorable. He was kidnapping her. And he’d brought a gun. When he forced her outside and she saw that he had help, all hope of getting out of this situation disappeared like snowflakes over a raging fire.
“I need the bathroom,” Esme said firmly. She wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of knowing how scared she was.
“I brought it.” He lifted a small, plastic tub.
Esme sighed. “Please, just let me go to the bathroom properly.”
“Sorry, it’s not my decision. Baby, if it were my decision, you’d be on a golden toilet right now.”
There was something so pathetic about him. Kevin, he was called. He was a lank, unhealthy-looking mess, with long, greasy hair and small, bloodshot eyes. He’d been so terrified when the police had showed up that she’d honestly thought that she would never see him again.
And yet here she was, captured, in a shipping container.
“Whose decision is it, then?” Her bladder was throbbing.
“My boss. Well, not my boss, exactly. The guy who’s been helping me. The guy who wants to see the two of us end up together.”
“Kevin, no-one wants that except you.”
“You’re wrong. He’s a good man. A kind man. He wanted to rough you up, but when I told him how special and talented you are, he decided not to.”
