Kidnapped! (7 page)

“Miss Speed,” Raszini said, smiling down at her as she sat in the crate, legs folded up and head bend down. It was not a very big crate and she had to be folded into a ball to fit inside it. “Welcome to my home.” One of the two men who had brought here there snickered but was silenced by a quick, very mean glance from their boss. “I am sorry that this is somewhat less than my usual accommodations, but I was forced to leave my former house because of your brother.”

There was no questioning the anger in his voice.

“Get her out of there,” he barked and watched as the two of them pulled her out and up to her feet. With her legs bound together, and having been bound into a ball for over two hours, she had a little trouble keeping her balance and was held upright by one of the men.

“I cannot begin to tell you how glad I am to have you visit me,” he told her. “Nor can I begin to tell you of the activities I have planned for you.”

She glared at him over the gag. Susie felt her skin crawl as his gazed wandered over her body, undressing her (as so many men did) with his eyes. Were it not for the rag stuffed in her mouth and taped tightly in place, she would have given him a piece of her mind.

“Take her into the special room I set up for her,” he snarled. “You’ll enjoy it,” he added, in her direction.

The man holding her up stepped around in front of her and put his shoulder into her midsection, picking her up like a sack of potatoes. The “special room” was a large storage room in what turned out to be a warehouse of some sort. From her upside down position and limited view, she could only see the concrete floor. Had she the time to look around, she would have found herself being carried past stacks of cardboard cartons with various labels indicating this was a storehouse for consumer electronics. The special room had been emptied of whatever it was that was previously stored there, and a few special devices had been installed. One was a bed in one corner; a metal frame with metal springs but lacking a mattress. One could lay upon it, but not in anything approaching comfort.

There were several hooks and rings screwed into the overhead wooden beams and into the walls. A couple cardboard boxes sat by one wall. They were open and Susie could see coils of ropes in one and handcuffs and chains in the other. When set upon her feet again, she was not happy to see that type of equipment. Nor would it be hard to guess what kind of special treatment he had in mind for her.

“Untie her arms,” came the order, “but not her legs.”

Susie found her hands were a dark shade when she was finally able to bring them around in front of her again. The ropes had been tightly applied and left on for a long time. There were also deep, red indentations in her flesh, demonstrating just how tightly they had been bound.

“Tie her hands in front,” Raszini continued, “then hang her by her wrists.”

Susie was frightened but tried very hard not show it. It also took an effort to keep from fighting them. But even with her above-average strength and size, she would be no match for three men. Better to let them do as they wished – for now.

With the wrists bound together, the trailing rope was tossed over one of the hooks in the overhead beam and pulled. Her arms lifted up above her head. The two men pulled some more and she was lifted off her feet. Her full weight being taken by the ropes around her wrists, she knew that there would be problems with circulation, if she were left like that for very long.

“Marco, cut off her clothes,” Raszini ordered. “But first, tie one of those cinder blocks to her feet. That will keep her from kicking out.”

With a grin, one of the men dragged over a heavy concrete block and placed it directly under her feet. He removed her shoes and pulled her socks down, and then tied a rope to that already around her ankles, threaded it through the cement block and back over the ankle bondage again. He pulled until the block was lifted from the floor and hung suspended just below her feet. He tied off the rope and stood back. He was grinning as he pulled a switchblade from his pocket and flicked it open.

It was getting harder for Susie to put up a brave front. The weight pulling down her feet tightened up the rope around her wrists and stretched her body out painfully. She was a strong young woman and could probably lift her legs, block and all, upward, but kicking was, as they intended, out of the question.

The other henchman had brought in a chair, which Marco used to stand on while he took her blouse in one hand and began slicing the material with that sharp knife. With his face only inches from hers, he took a delight in looking into her eyes as he cut the expensive blouse from her body. Maybe he was looking for signs of fear, which would probably have made his task more pleasurable – for him. Soon enough he had the blouse totally cut away, leaving her clad only in her bra from the waist up. First, he cut the straps going over her shoulders, and then pushed the blade between her bra and her skin, pausing dramatically for a moment before jerking the blade. It cut through the bra quickly and the garment fell away.

For a few seconds none of the men said a word. The pair of breasts that were now on display before them were magnificent! Large and firm, with nipples that stood out most delightfully. These men had never seen such perfect globes in person, only in the centerfolds of men’s magazines.

Standing on the chair, only a few inches from those wonderful boobs, Mack was hard put not to reach out and grab one or both.

“Get down and finish getting those clothes off her,” Raszini barked.

Reluctantly, Marco stepped down from the chair and pulled it aside. Then he was taking the waistband of her jeans in one hand and sliding the blade behind it. With a grin, he jerked the knife again and cut through the designer jeans. It took him a full couple minutes to cut all the jean material away, but when he finished there was a lovely pair of legs exposed. All that was left was the black, lacy panties barely covering her most private place. Almost reverently, he took the panties in hand and sliced through the thin material, first on one side, then on the other. Slowly he pulled the panties from between her legs.

If they were surprised to find that the pubic area now exposed was shaved totally clean, none said a word about that. They just stood there and admired the view.

“All right! You guys get out of here,” Raszini finally ordered. “And remember, I don’t want you fucking this broad. Not yet, anyway. I’ll let you have her, but later. Right now I want her to understand just what she’s in for. So get lost.”

The men reluctantly left the room, muttering under their breaths about how unfair this was – but being careful not to let Raszini hear them.

Slowly he walked around his prisoner, taking in all the lovely curves, the soft perfection of that bare flesh, the narrowness of her waist and the firmness of her breasts. He felt himself reacting to this display of sexual perfection as any man would; a bulge began forming in his pants. But it was a battle inside him between desire and hatred. This, he reminded himself, was the sister of the man who had ruined his life. No matter how desirable her body was, he wished to make her suffer. At least at first. Later, he would show her what a fucking by a real man was like, but first he wanted to make her hurt. He wanted her to feel pain so intense that she was screaming from it. And he wanted her brother to know she was being tortured, to share that pain with her.

After twice circling the hanging girl, he unbuckled his belt and slid the leather strap out of his pants. Doubling the leather strap over, he held it like a whip and prepared himself to grant her the first payment of a great debt owed her and her brother.

“My only regret is that your brother is not here to watch,” he told her. Then he swung with all the strength in his arm.

The belt struck her squarely on the ass, made a very loud sound in the small room, and set her body jerking forward. A squeal of pain managed to force its way out around the gag.

A red mark began forming on that soft ass as he watched. Yes! This was what he wanted. Tomorrow he would do the same thing but have a video camera record it. The recording would, of course, be sent to Sled Speed, but for tonight, the only person to enjoy this scene would be him.

Switching to the other side, he struck again with the same results: a muffled cry, a loud smack, a jerk of her naked body, and a red mark appearing on the other cheek. Giving in to his anger, he began slashing that bare ass repeatedly with the belt, not bothering to count or really aim the blows. He struck until his arm grew tired. But that was not until he had delivered almost fifty strokes across the bare flesh. When he finally paused, the whole area between her waist and thighs was a vivid red. The pained sounds she made were delightful to his ears, as was the jerking of her nudity. Even with the heavy block tied to her feet, she lifted her legs and kicked out. Tears were running down her face to fall on her breasts. The brave girl was sobbing out her heart.

For a long time, he simply stood there, panting and staring at that abused ass, so wonderfully swollen and red with a few bruises for decoration. Slowly he returned his belt to his pants. Walking around in front of her, he reached up to grab a breast and squeeze hard to get her attention.

“This is just the beginning, bitch,” he hissed at her. “Just the beginning.”

Chapter XVI

I Google

“Damn it! Do something!”

I pounded on the desk of Special Prosecutor Purvis for emphasis. The paperweights and pencil holder and even his phone rattled.

“Really, we are doing something,” he whined. “We’re trying to find Raszini. We expect to apprehend him soon.”

“Don’t give me any of that public relations bullshit!” I told him. “You have no idea where he is, or where my little sister is.”

“We’re working on it. Besides, we don’t even know it was Raszini who kidnapped Susan Speed.”

I felt very much like reaching across his desk and introducing his nose to my fist.

“The FBI, the Justice Department and local agencies are working on this. It has top priority,” he told me. I didn’t like that smug little smile on his face. I had the feeling he was hiding something from me. And I don’t like people who hide things from me.

Before I could tell him where he could shove the FBI, Justice Department and local agencies, he added, “Why don’t you go home and let us do our work. I’ll let you know as soon as the case breaks.”

I fear I may have cracked some plaster in the wall when I slammed the door on my way out. Actually, he was lucky. I felt like kicking the door down. Great way to relieve stress.

All the way back to my office, my high-powered brain was in top gear, furiously searching for some way to get Susie back. Unfortunately, all it did was race in circles. Raszini had gone to ground, and in a city this big that meant there were too many places he could be hiding. For that matter, who says he was even still in LA?

The day was as drab as my spirits, overcast and threatening rain. I wished it would. At least the rain washes away most of the smog that usually squats atop LA like a thick, ugly blanket.

Back at my desk, I spread out all the information I had on Raszini and the recent case. It was damned little, mostly a write-up of the case that Susie did on her word processor. There was little on Raszini himself. I had no idea where he even lived; the only time I met him was at a hotel room near LAX.

Then I remembered that the newscast said the FBI had raided his home. And there was video of these men in black SWAT suits with FBI in large white letters across the back breaking into an expensive looking house. But, if they mentioned where the house was, I must have missed it.

Susie often tells me that you can find anything on the Internet. I stared at the computer screen in the corner of my desk. It hadn’t been on since the day Susie put it there and showed me how to turn the computer on. A real, he-man private dick doesn’t need electronics to break a case, just hard fists, a quick draw, and knowing what heads to bust.

Someone once told me that real men don’t eat quiche. I had no idea then what quiche was, and still don’t. Some kind of sissy French food, I think. Well, using a computer to track down a bad guy is sort of the same thing: something a real private dick doesn’t do.

But…

I turned it on and sat there, staring at a blue screen while some kind of important messages danced across it. Then it settled down to a bunch of tiny pictures over a picture of sailboats on a mountain lake. At that point, I realized I had no idea what to do. So I did the only logical thing. Swallowing my pride, I called Ramona into my office and asked her to find out where Raszini used to live.

It took her only a minute to find the answer. She tried to explain to me as she went but the words meant nothing. What the hell is a google? She brought up on the screen an article about the attempted bust on his house. It was sort of like reading the newspaper but you had to point a little arrow at a tiny square and press a button to get the next page. A little digging and I had an address. Fortunately, it was not too far away, just a couple hours drive up the coast to Santa Barbara.

“You think maybe he took Susie there?” Ramona asked me. When I turned to her, I could see that she had been crying. Maybe she and Susie were a little closer than I had thought. Pushing such thoughts aside, I told her the police had already been there and found nothing. But I wasn’t looking for Susie there, instead another person. Someone who just might be able to tell me where Raszini was.

Chapter XVII

Video Taping

“Set those cameras up over there,” Raszini ordered.
“Make sure you get good coverage of right here.” He stood back to get an idea of the work area and make sure that the cameras would cover it well. They were digital video cameras, not Hollywood quality to be sure, but very capable of recording a scene in good quality.