Page 75 of Morally Gray Daddies

Takers and Taken

By Shane Starrett

Chapter One

Derrick

I’ve never disliked when they struggle.

There’s always some form of challenge to it, because terror has a way of giving people strength far out of proportion to what they normally draw on in any given situation. There are those who’ve said in moments of intense fear they called on ‘superhuman strength’, and that’s been my observation. At least, when it’s a young woman realizing she’s about to be taken.

“Let. Me. GO!” she screamed.

I didn’t.

This place was an absolute shithole, which made the task of restraining her doubly difficult since I had zero desire to get infected from a cut, especially with all the garbage and drug paraphernalia littering the house. Hell, the stench alone was enough to give her an advantage, and it was a blessing when I did let her go for a second to try to reason with her she made a run for the bedroom and tried to slam the door in my face.

“Oh, no. Bad idea,” I chided, wedging my foot in the threshold before she could get it shut.

“Get the fuck away from me, motherfucker!” she yelled back.

I gave her a second to put all her weight into the door to block me then I slammed into it, throwing her off balance and making her stumble back into the room. I came through the door behind her and closed it as she scrambled over the mattress lying crooked on the floor.

“See”—I pointed to where she’d stopped in a crouch on the opposite side—“that was a mistake, because now you’re trapped in here with me.”

Her eyes went wide, fear blowing the pupils into two enormous black orbs.

“Next time, remember—always head for outside. Give yourself space to maneuver. Never try and barricade yourself in a room, because all you do is trap yourself with your enemy.”

“Go fuck yourself,” she snarled, but the words wavered.

I didn’t immediately go for her, because… why? I had her where I wanted her, and from this point forward I was the one in complete control. The fact was, I’d been in complete control of this situation the first time I’d seen her months ago. I’d been working another of Colbie’s snatch-n-grab jobs that time, and Lindsey… Well, she’d merely been the strung-out girlfriend of a nickel-and-dime drug dealer I’d given less than two thoughts about. But I’d noticed Lindsey for sure. I remembered her. Watched her. Studied her. And when my op for Colbie was finished, I decided she’d be a perfect candidate for the people who employed me in my off time.

So, here I was, and while the bedroom was nominally cleaner than the cesspool of the living room, the difference was small at best. A glance told me all I needed to know; drywall busted open in several places where someone had punched or kicked it, something I didn’t even what to take a guess at smeared in streaks over the dingy white paint, and whatever had stained and crusted the surface of a portion of the mattress visible beneath the wad of yellow-tinged sheets I could glimpse.

I gave her a moment’s respite, because I needed her to start thinking. If she was thinking then she’d listen, and the easiest way for this to end for both of us was if she thought this through rather than reacted on blind fear.

She was still breathing heavily but not gulping in air, so I asked, “It’s… Lindsey, right?”

She swallowed. “How… how did you know my name?”

I kept my voice low and calm. “I know a lot about you.”

She scrunched her face, looking perplexed. “You do?”

“Mmhmm. I know you weren’t always like this. I know it wasn’t that many years ago you were a completely different person. But that was before Daddy left, and Mommy took that hard, didn’t she? And when she got mixed up with some very disagreeable people, well… what’s the saying? Like mother, like daughter.”

“How…”

“How?” I shook my head slowly. “How doesn’t matter, Lindsey. What you need to start understanding is that how and why aren’t really important questions to ask, considering the direction your life is about to take. What’s important for you to focus on right now can be encapsulated in two simple words: yes, Sir.”

“Yes, Sir?” She said the words softly, sounding confused, and that was exactly what I wanted, because it was another indication she wasn’t fighting, but thinking.

“Yes. You need to learn how to use those two words, and more importantly, how to act upon them.”

She darted her gaze left and right. First to me, then the room, a dance I was sure matched the chaotic thoughts racing through her head. I gave her time, because every second she kept thinking rather than trying to flee was a victory for me. She was doing exactly what I needed her to, and she didn’t even realize it.

“Why are you doing this?” she asked, a trace of calmness in her tone, one that had been completely missing a moment ago.

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