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“Bro, smile. This is so much fucking fun.” He isn’t one to hide his emotions, so I shouldn't be shocked by his excitement. Shaking my head in response, tiny whimpers come from behind us again.
“She’s been like this the whole drive. I’ve never been stuck in a car with a more annoying person.” Hudson laughs at my declaration. Then loud coughing followed by groaning catches our attention. My nostrils flare, “So help me if this chick just vomited her guts out in my trunk. I am not cleaning that shit up. No fucking way, bro.”
“Like fuck I’m touching it. I’ll get a rookie over to clean that shit.”
Looking over at Hud, he already has his phone out and his thumbs are racing against his screen. It’s not a bad idea.
“Are you going to tell them some chick threw up back there after sucking your dick?” We are pulling up our street, so I turn my attention back to the road.
“Oh, he jokes!” Hud throws back while putting his shoe clad feet on my dash. He knows I hate when he does it. It’s his way of saying fuck your joke, without saying it. He can’t fathom a chick being repulsed by him.
Pulling up into our driveway, I park and turn the Rover off. Still looking ahead of me, “You get her out. I’ll meet you inside.” He doesn’t argue it. His basement of wonders awaits. He can bring her down there, considering I haven’t a fucking clue what I am about to walk into. I tried once, but he’s kept the door locked. I am not one to question his madness. We both have our idiosyncrasies. Which shouldn’t be alarming to anyone, we did share a womb, after all. Getting out of the Rover, I grab the house keys from my pants pocket and unlock the door. I walk further into the house and toward the kitchen, turning the lightover the stove on. It’s just enough light for Hudson to see where the fuck he is going. Speaking of the devil, the door slams open as I look over my shoulder, “Brother! Let the games begin!”
9
HUDSON
“Yeah, she threw up good back there. Shit fucking stinks.” She did a number redecorating Landon’s ride. And I swear to Satan if she gets sick on me next, she will be punished appropriately. I have her thrown over my shoulder as I walk through the house, making my way over to the door that will reveal her home for the foreseeable future. Banks is still bitching and moaning, like the world is ending. She has no idea. It’s only the beginning baby Banksy.
Landon throws his head back dramatically, letting out a loud sigh of frustration. We don’t have time for his theatrics this evening. Pulling out a key from my pants pocket, I insert it into the padlock I had added to the basement door earlier this week and turn it until it pops open. Leaving the key in it, I twist the base and lift the shackle up and through the metal d-ring attached to the door. Using my other hand, I flip the hinge and place the open padlock back through the metal ring, leaving it hanging there open.
I hear footsteps behind me. Landon hasn’t seen what I’ve been working on. This will be the first time anyone otherthan me has seen the basement in its new state. Turning the doorknob, I look back at my brother. “Are you ready?”
“We have already drugged and kidnapped the chick. No going back now.”
He isn’t wrong.
Turning back around, I open the door and flip the light switch to turn on the lights going down the stairs and, in the space below. With each step, Banksy moans. “The colors keep moving away from me. I hate this.”
“Fucking amateur,” Landon mumbles under his breath. The sound of our footsteps on each wooden step echo down the stairwell until we reach the bottom. Banksy is still slung over my shoulder as I walk toward the middle of the space, turning around in time to get Landon’s reaction.
His eyes widen as he takes it all in. I can see him examining each item and the area meticulously.
“When… where did you get all this?” he asks in disbelief. Does the guy forget who the fuck I am?
Laughing at his borderline insulting question, “Bro, it wasn’t that hard to source this shit.”
He finally looks over to me, “What’s the plan?”
“I have a couple cameras set up which feed into phones. The cameras don’t record. It’s a live feed so we can keep an eye on her when we are out. That—” I say pointing to a shackle, “goes around her throat. It’s connected to that metal chain which I secured using that O-ring, which was already secured to the floor. The previous owners must have been into some kinky shit down here. As you can see, that old mattress is her bed. No blankets or pillows. I have covered all the windows down here with glass tint. A classic ‘honey bucket’ for her to handle her business on, and the stainless cat dishes house her water.”
Landon is still looking at me in disbelief. “Bro. I don’t know what I expected, but this was not it.” This isn’t my first rodeo.To this degree, perhaps it is, but ruthless behavior isn’t anything new to me.
“Enough chitchat. Help me get her undressed and hooked up would ya?”
Wasting no time, he walks over to her new leash as I bring her over to her new bed. Tossing her down on it, she opens her eyes, “Wow, you’re so gorgeous. Can I touch your face?” She asks while looking at me.
Ignoring her, I bend down and slide her shoes off, then her leggings. As I go to remove her hoodie, “Let me help you with this, Banksy.” I whisper into her ear, but she says nothing as she allows me to drag it up her body, over her head and her arms being the last out of it. She flops them back down next to her, in nothing more than her black lace panties and matching bra. Landon is next to me, already latching the shackle around her nape, locking it with the small padlock that is on it. The key is in my room. There is no chance she is getting out of it.
Standing up, I grab her discarded clothing and walk them over to the other side of the room where she will be able to see them but not get to them. Landon looks up, watching what I am doing. Without looking back, I put them down. I know he is pleased. The guy is all about the mind games.
Throwing them down in a messy pile and heading toward the stairs. There isn't much more to do tonight other than put the camera app on Landon’s phone and wait for her to sober up.
“Hey, wait here a minute. I have an idea.” Landon sneaks past me and takes two steps at a time as he heads up the stairs.
He is quick to return, with his tattoo machine, ink and a sinister grin on his face.
Wasting no time, he pours some black ink into the cap and turns his machine on. Dipping the needles in the ink, he moves the needles toward her, marking her delicate fair skin. Not wanting to ruin the surprise of what he is doing, I pull my phoneout seeing a few missed texts from the guys asking where we are. I reply to a couple letting them know we are on our way.
