Page 81 of Hunt Me
Gunshots.
The moment I shifted in the seat, I was reminded of the round of discipline. The pain was minimal, my body’s reaction caustic. I remained wet. Why was the dream coming to life right now? Was I trying to cling to some sense of normalcy to keep my mind from freaking out? I had no answer, but the images were clearer than ever before, not lost in the haze of sleep deprivation.
A man had come from the shadows, grabbing and tossing me to the ground. I’d screamed and screamed, but no one had come to save me.
Whether or not the memory was accurate I’d likely never know. I’d asked my mother several times if what I’d envisioned was true, but she’d acted as if I had a vivid imagination.
Why the images were running through my mind at this moment was beyond me, but my instinct told me they meant something vital. How strange.
Mikhail moved, the noises catching my attention and I was brought back to the ugly reality I was facing. I’d been kidnapped.
By him.
The man I couldn’t stop thinking about.
Obedience.
The thought had also played in and with my mind while Mikhail, AKA Mr. Asshole had driven through the city streets. I’d triedmy best to pay attention and to see anything around the tightly knotted tie covering my eyes, but that had been impossible.
As the images of my past faded, I clamped my hands around the edge of the seat.
His silence had been as unnerving as everything he’d said to me prior to being taken from Josie’s house.
Like a prisoner.
Who was I kidding? I was his prisoner. Gone was the sophisticated, engaging man who’d literally swept me off my feet, his chivalrous behavior allowing me to trust him. Enough so I’d eagerly allowed him to blindfold and seduce me.
My instincts had obviously failed me. I’d always thought of myself as a good judge of character even when meeting someone for the first time. I’d incorrectly believed I’d honed those skills in college and law school since I’d spent a ginormous amount of time studying monsters of every creed, color, relation, background, and financial condition.
But somehow, I’d been blindsided by his charm and stunning good looks, enough to let my guard down.
Suddenly, his hand was on my leg and I froze, yet my reaction wasn’t about fear, but about another sense of longing.
“Relax, Bristol. I’m not going to hurt you.”
“If only I could believe you.”
He squeezed my knee and my pussy throbbed. When he pulled his hand free, I felt a crazy sense of loss.
The engine changed, the intense throbbing from before lessening as he slowed down.
Cause and effect.
Behavior and consequences.
Common sense and irrationality.
Even when it had become obvious he had ill intent, I’d been attracted to him. Perhaps more so than the first night. The lust-filled way he’d looked at me, the possessiveness in his eyes had incited hunger instead of fear.
But terror lingered just under the surface, digging at my insides. I was in a precarious position whether I wanted to believe so or not.
No one knew where I was. Not a soul.
Mikhail was using my lack of judgment and was doing a masterful job. My father could be ruined by my actions alone. No matter how I looked at things, I no longer had control of the situation. Or my life. Did I believe him capable of murder? That I wasn’t certain of, but kidnapping he’d obviously done before.
He was skilled.
Perhaps the one thing that had kept me from shutting down completely was the sadness I’d seen in his eyes when I’d asked about the man who’d been killed. While brief, the intensity of his darkness had held me in a trance. The pain was real. So was the anger against whoever had ended Sergio’s life.
