Page 93 of A Captive Situation

It was his skin.

He yelled over his shoulder, “Stay here. Lock the door.”

“Where are you going?” My heart was in my throat.

“Lock the door, Sawyer,” he commanded again.

The door shut and I flicked the lock, but he wasn’t gone long. Ten minutes later, I jumped as someone pounded on the door.

“It’s me.”

Jake.

“That was fast.” I fumbled for the lock, throwing open the door.

He came in, carrying the girl. She was struggling, her feet kicking in the air, and he grunted as he shifted his weight so she was higher in the air.

“Let me go!” she screamed.

“Lock the door,” he said, gruffly, as he dumped her on the couch.

“You assfuck pubic hair on a grandpa’s balls.” She tried crawling away, but Jake pinned her down.

She screamed again, twisting around, and she went to scratch his face.

He hissed, jerking his head out of the way, and grabbed her wrist. “Stop it,” he growled. She tried with the other and he caught that one too. As he yanked both arms back, her scream went up a whole octave and I gritted my teeth, my eardrums bleeding. He let go of her arms enough that he could grab them from a different angle.

“Sawyer, my cuffs.”

“Huh?”

She was still bucking, and he grunted, keeping her in place. He indicated his wallet. “On the table, over there. There’s a pair in a drawer.”

Cuffs? At hisgirlfriend’shouse? I sneered, forgetting what was happening in front of me for a whole thirty seconds because I was forgetting his ex was also a cop. My mind went to a dirtier reason those cuffs were here.

Now I was nauseous and rageful.

“Fuck you both,” the girl spat out. “You are so fucked. Youreallymessed up. You have no clue—”

That brought me back to the present. I grimaced as I picked up the handcuffs using only my pinkie and walked them over.

Jake took them, an exasperated expression on his face. “Are you kidding me?”

The girl was still yelling threats, but I tuned her out. “I don’t know where those have been.”

“I put them there last night. Jesus Christ.” He snapped them in place on her wrists. She stopped bucking and began muttering variations of the same threat over and over under her breath, her face pressed into the couch cushions.

We were going to die.

My spine was going to be yanked out through the skin.

My eyeballs would be fed to Jake and his dick would be cut off and forced down my throat. After the pubic hair comment, these were less colorful, but once the cuffs were in place, she stopped physically fighting.

Jake stood up and hauled her up. Her face had lines from the cushions and some of her hair fell over her eyes, but she blew out an angry puff of air. If looks could kill, we’d be in hell by now. “You guys have no clue—”

“Actually, we do.” Jake waited until she was steady on her feet. Once she was, he marched her back into the bedroom, letting her sit on the edge of the bed as he went back to checking the room once more. Déjà vu. The window was relocked, and the rest of the room passed his search. Joining me at the door, he leaned against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest.

She continued to scowl as she moved around to face us. “What do you want?”

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