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I know this is as far as I’ll allow myself to go, so I want to enjoy it fully. My body heats, and I feel all of my blood rush to my penis in anticipation of what’s to come tonight.
I shake myself and make quick work of removing her jeans and panties, careful to avert my eyes from her exposed mound. If I ogle her, I’ll have to taste her, and that can’t happen until she begs me for it.
I pick her up again and gently lower her into the basin. The sweet smell of lavender and chamomile waft up from the tub, and I watch as Alana’s body sinks further into the water. I grab a washcloth and carefully clean away the dirt from her skin. I use a cup to wet her hair, then wash it with the same brand of shampoo and conditioner I’ve seen her buy from the store.
I wanted familiar things here for her to help feel at home.
Once her hair is washed, I wrap it in a towel and pick her up. I can tell she’s still out cold, and I’m thankful I got the dosage right. I walk back into her room and gently lay her down on the floor before pulling out a pair of bra and panties I took from her apartment.
My fingertips lightly brush against her smooth skin as I tease the panties up her legs, and I’m rewarded with a tantalizingly beautiful view of her delicate cunt. I force myself to look away and make sure she’s properly covered. Then, using both hands, I lift her like a child into the matching bra before sliding the thin straps over her shoulders.
I slip a sundress over her head and pull her arms through before turning her around and putting her damp hair into a braid that falls over one shoulder. She’s ready for tonight, and I can’t contain my happiness.
I lean forward and press my lips to hers lightly, then pull the cushioned handcuffs I bought today from my pocket. I secure her arms and legs in front of her, then leave her to finish her rest. I have to get ready and prepare dinner, and everything must go according to plan for my perfect Alana.
47
Chapter Forty Seven
Andreas
Twenty-four hours have passed since I left the police station. Even though I’ve called three times, I haven’t heard whether or not they’ve found anything. My motorcycle hasn’t been released from evidence yet, and my car is at the shop having the tires replaced, so I’ve been stuck in my house dwelling on what’s happening to Alana. Is she being harmed? Is she even alive? The thoughts keep me awake, and I’m fighting myself to keep from going door-to-door, demanding everyone stop what they’re doing and help me search.
Now, I’m waiting on my the ride I sent for to pick me up and bring me to the dealership to get my car. I plan to go into the Carmel store to review footage from the night of the wreck to see if I can see anyone suspicious watching Alana and me. Whoever took her had to have followed us from there. There’s no way they would’ve accidentally happened upon us in the middle of nowhere. I glance down at my phone and see that my Uber will be here in five minutes, so I grab my wallet and walk to the curb to wait for him.
As I stand outside, I look up and take a deep breath. The weather is perfect: the sun is shining; birds are singing cheerfully, and there’s a gentle summer breeze blowing through the trees. It’s a stark contrast to how I feel, but I’m thankful it’s not pouring down rain. I send a text to Jim and let him know I’ll be in sometime today, then text my dad and let him know I still haven’t heard anything.
A sleek black car pulls up to the curb, and my work phone dings with a notification that my Uber has arrived. I get in the backseat and distract myself with the social media apps on my new phone. The dealership is forty minutes away, and I don’t feel like making small talk with the driver.
I zone out and let my mind wander as we drive down the busy streets, staring at my phone but not really reading anything as I scroll through the posts. Twenty minutes go by, and the driver speaks from the front seat. “I’m going to have to pull over. I’m afraid I may have run over a nail or something; my light came on for tire pressure. I’ll make it quick.”
After a few minutes, I wonder if he needs help, so I exit the car and walk around to the closed trunk. He isn’t anywhere to be seen, so I glance toward the corn field we’re parked next to. There’s still no sign of him, so I shout, “Sir? Hello, do you need any help?”
Suddenly, I feel a sharp pinch on my neck and his arms grabbing me from behind. I turn around to fight back, but my movements are sluggish and my arms and legs are heavy. I lash out and land a punch to the man’s stomach, but he barely reacts, and it feels like I’m punching underwater. I can barely keep my eyes open, and I sink to the ground next to the car. He grabs my shoulders and drags me toward the door that I left open when I got out.
I hear the driver say, “If you had kept your fucking hands of off Alana, none of this would’ve happened. She isn’t going to move on until she knows you’re not an option. This is all your fault. You gave me no choice.”
My vision is blurry and my limbs are heavy enough that I can’t move them anymore. He’s breathing heavily now from the exertion of hauling my dead weight around. He manages to lift me into the backseat of the car and ties a rope around my wrists. I try to ask what’s happening and where Alana is, but my lips won’t form the words. The driver proceeds to tie my legs together, securely binding them with the rope. The tightness of the rope around my legs cuts off the circulation to my feet, and I can feel the warmth drain from them as he walks around the car and opens the door behind me.
He grabs me under my arms and pulls me further into the car, then shuts the door and walks back around to make sure my legs are out of the way. I manage to mumble, “Alana,” before he slams the door shut. I can hear him put the car into drive and pull away as I lose consciousness.
* * *
I force my eyes open and try to look around, but everything is black. The smell of gasoline, oil, and dampness assaults my nostrils, so I assume I’m in a garage, shed, or barn. My hands are still tied, and I can feel a throbbing pain in both wrists. I try to move my feet, but they’re still bound, so I settle for rolling onto my side. That’s when I notice the rope on my ankles has been secured to the wall with a chain, assuring that even if I can get to my feet, I won’t be able to get far.
My eyes adjust to the lack of light, and I’m able to see that there’s a workbench along the far wall. Other than that, the garage is empty. There’s nothing close by for me to grab to free myself, and there aren’t any sounds coming from outside. No voices, cars driving by, nothing. We must not be in the middle of town, otherwise there’d be signs of life no matter what time it is.
I remember the driver mentioning Alana. It has to be the same man who took her. What doesn’t make sense is why he didn’t do something to me the night he caused the wreck. He could’ve killed me while I was passed out. Why take the risk of abducting me in broad daylight? There has to be a record of my drive on my phone through the Uber app, and the move was stupid on his part.
My back slumps against the wall, and my eyelids flutter shut. The only sound in the room is the summer chirping of cicadas and crickets from outside. There’s nothing I can do to improve my situation right now, and my brain is still foggy from whatever he injected me with earlier. I try to stay alert and awake in case he comes for me, but soon, I succumb to the exhaustion that I’ve been desperately fighting off.
48
Chapter Forty Eight
Alana
The bag over my head is gone; I can see. I move my hands, and for the first time since I was taken, there aren’t ropes ripping the sensitive skin. My hands are now in front of me instead of behind my back, and I almost cry from relief. I look down and see padded handcuffs are secured around them, and I gasp loudly.
