LIKED - A Dark Romance Novel (Story of Dangerous Obsession and Lust) (6 page)

Can’t Go Home

He sat her up against the wall of the vehicle and clipped something to
the tape between her wrists. Gia still had the bag over her head and couldn’t
move much to feel what was happening. The clip felt like a jumper cable with
metal teeth and jaws and rubber coated handles. A hard cord ran up behind her
between her back and the metal wall which felt hot through her tee shirt and
against her exposed elbows.

“Is he going to electrocute me? Oh, God!” She thought.

She wondered if the teeth on the grip at the end of the cable might tear
the tape and she could get free.

The tape ripped away from the roll again and he taped her ankles together
in front of her. He caught her skin and the frayed ends of her jeans in a
clumsy wrap. He jerked three times to snap the tape loose and then slapped the
tape with his hand to try to make it stick. Gia whimpered inside the bag afraid
that the noise would make him angry or turn him on. He growled and ripped the
tape again adding to the binding on her ankles. When he was done, she already
felt her toes going numb inside her sneakers.

A muffled pause followed. She couldn’t exactly hear him breathing, but she
felt him near her. He was at least as close as her feet, but she felt like he
might be closer. It was hot inside the van even with the back doors open and
breeze coming off the ocean through Don’s tropical plants.

If she screamed, they might hear her. They wouldn’t be able to get
through the fence, if she was still in Don’s yard. She hadn’t heard a gate, but
she wasn’t sure how far she had been dragged or in which direction.

No one was coming and if she screamed, he might hurt her sooner. And he
was going to hurt her. There was no doubt about that.

The metal under them popped either expanding from the heat or from her
unseen captor shifting his weight. He moved. His feet scraped the floor and
rocked the van on its shocks with his motion. She felt air pass her neck that
felt hotter than the breeze and she was sure it was his breath even though he
was still moving. She turned her head away inside the bag and bit her lip to
hold in another dangerous whimper.

He’s going to rape me. He’s going to do it now or later, she thought. Or
both. After he’s done, they will identify me by my dental records. I’m overdue
for a cleaning.

Gia lost her grip on the whimper and it escaped her as a sob. The sound
scared her and she started crying harder.

He stepped off the end of the van and the vehicle swayed before going
still. Shoes scratched on a dusting of sand over the concrete. Hinges groaned
and the doors slammed on one side first, then on the other. One of the doors
bounced changing the quality of light coming through the bag as it swung back
open.

Her cries caught in her throat and she swallowed trying to catch her
breath again.

He muttered, “Fucking doors.”

She couldn’t draw in air.

It was Jack. She recognized the voice, but also the frustrated
uncertainty in the words that she remembered from their game in the apartment.
She should have known it was him, but knowing for sure was a cold reality. He
had murdered Don. Jack had tortured him and killed him in a bloody mess. He had
waited for Gia to come and had taken her too. He was going to torture her too
for playing with him and trying to leave him behind. He was going to do more to
her than he had done to Don and then she was going to end up the same way.

Jack whispered to himself. “Left side first and then the right.”

Gia sucked in a ragged breath and bawled. “Grits … Grits, Jack. Time out.
I want to go home. Grits. Grits. Grits. Please. Please.”

He cleared his throat and said quietly. “It’s too late for that, Gia.”

He closed one door and then the other. They caught this time and the
darkness inside her bag got even deeper.

The driver’s door opened and closed in front of her.

***

As the van started, she had a mental picture of the shape and dimensions
of the vehicle. These vans were only used for painting houses and murdering
woman, she thought. She had shot more than a few scenes inside them. This would
be her last, she thought. It was going to be one take with no chance for
resets.

Wipe one the back wall quickly and reset, she thought as her mind spun away
from her inside the bag. We are going to get another shot of that head
splatter. On my mark.

The van lurched forward and up a slope. She shifted to the side toward
the back and found herself against the metal rise of a wheel well. She had
pictured the back as flat floor and walls for the metal box of the cargo area.
She amended her picture to include the bumps for the back wheels jutting up and
out into the storage space. She couldn’t picture the model of van that was
designed that way.

The van bumped something and stopped. She thought that if they got into
an accident, the police would come. If the van tried to leave the scene, the
other driver would get the plate and report it to the police. The van edged
forward and bumped it again. There was a scrape on the front bumper and grill
and they bounced over the curb.

The van turned left.

It was the gate over the driveway they had hit. Don’s gate swung out
instead of sideways like everyone else’s. The fence was from the 1970’s and had
the locks updated, but not the hardware. The magnet locks were down and Jack
had bumped it open with the van.

When the neighbors saw the gate hanging open toward the street, they
would call the police to complain. The police would find the bloody house, but
they would be gone. They might not find the scene, but would not know Gia was
taken. She had dropped her phone, but it would take them a couple days to
unlock it even if they made doing so a priority. They might go by her house to
question her about Don’s death, but they wouldn’t find anything suspicious
inside that would let them know she was kidnapped.

She didn’t remember seeing the van when she walked up to the house, so
she wasn’t sure where it had been. Maybe by the garage? Getting ready to load
Don’s body before Gia interrupted? Jack knew she was coming though. Or did he?
How did he find out where Don lived?

The production of
Southern Sluts
might miss her, but two girls had
walked off set the other day. They just put a wig and their costumes on Gia and
killed the characters off with Gia facing away from camera. The assistant
director wasn’t going to be her salvation and he cared more about her than the
rest of LA at this point.

Susan? She might report something. She would see the news about Don and
would report that she dropped Gia off there. That was going to be the
connection. The police would know that she was missing then.

It might be twenty-four hours. Maybe forty-eight. Gia knew from the
dialogue in a couple of her movies that that timeframe was the difference
between when the police were likely to find a living person or a body.

Gia thought, some new actress is going to play me in an episode of a true
crime missing persons show on basic cable about The Blackhearts: The
Sensational Deaths of Don and Gia. Don was found brutally murdered in his home,
but when Gia’s fate was finally discovered, it would turn out that he was the
lucky one. Cut to tampon commercial.

She felt the vibration of the road through the wheel well against her
side. She used her elbow to push herself back upright.

The van stopped and she wondered if it was a traffic light or if they had
reached where Jack was going to hide her while he did what he had planned for
her.

It was a rolling stop and the van continued on. She wondered, if the police
would pull him over, if he kept doing it. Would she be able to yell just as the
officer reached the window?

“Jack?” Her voice shook. “I want to go home. I won’t tell anyone. Let me
go home, please.”

He called back. “If you keep talking, I have to tape your mouth shut and
we have a long way to go, so shut up, please.”

“Where are we going?”

“Gia?” He raised the end of the word like he was scolding a child. “Shut
up or tape. I don’t have a choice here, but you do.”

She closed her mouth, but felt her chin quiver. A cry escaped her again.
She shook as she tried to hold it in, but failed.

He turned on the radio to an oldies station and turned it up. A voice
crooned through the static about bubble gum and first love.

***

Way to Go

Gia fell over and landed on her side on the floor. The cable attached to
her wrists made a sound like it was rolling out from a spool attached above her
head. She wondered how far it would go. If she got her feet free and the doors
open, how far could she run before she reached the end of the spool? Would the
teeth rip the tape and she would be free? Would Jack start driving the van and
drag her along the road behind him as punishment for trying to escape? Is that
what the cable was about? Gia, you either stay in the van or I drag you behind
it, she thought. You have a choice; I don’t. Stay or drag. Would the tape or
her arms break first?

She tried to move her feet to right herself, but there was no leverage.

The radio was on a talk station now shouting about illegal immigrants
committing crimes against citizens.

She decided to stay still on her side to keep from drawing attention to
herself or making Jack mad. She wasn’t sure it mattered, but she lay still
anyway. The ribbed surface of the bed of the van hurt the side of her head
through the bag and she couldn’t decide how to position her head to minimize
the pain. The van went over a rough patch of ground and bounced lifting her
head up only to smack it back against the metal floor. As dizziness crept in
from the impact they hit another and she bounced her head again.

Gia gritted her teeth and felt the strength drain out of her. She wasn’t
going to find a clever way to foil the villain. No one was coming to rescue her
from the monster. They would find her months later when there was nothing left,
but her teeth and chewed bones. A hiker or jogger would happen upon them and
investigate. News crews would descend on her patch of woods and then she would
be forgotten again. She would probably be a cautionary tale in the churches out
in Dark Orchard, Kentucky. Collectors would trade around pieces of trash from
her apartment. They would probably still be more interested in Jack. His owl
mask would go for a small fortune for sure.

Gia drifted off to sleep in exhaustion. The sleep was heavy like her mind
was pushing as far down into her body as it could go. The dreams came in
flashes with fear, but no story. A bump in the road would knock her head and
pull her back up. She couldn’t tell if her eyes were closed or open. She would
waver on the edge of consciousness just long enough for her to realize where
she was and what was happening. Then, she would drift back down into the dark
sleep of exhaustion and despair. She didn’t fight it.

It seemed like the way to go.

She woke up again with the van stopped and hot. The radio was off. The
engine was off. There were noises of traffic passing outside through the wall.
She wasn’t going back under again like before. Her bladder was full to the
point of pain.

She tried to sit up, but her bonds still held her. She raised her head.
“Hello?”

Her voice echoed back at her, but was muffled.

She heard the pops and scratches that could have been from the heat, but
sounded more like someone in the van with her.

“Hello? I need to pee.”

More shuffling, but no answer.

Thumps and bangs sounded and vibrated through the van from the outside.
Something popped and rang. She heard the familiar sound of a fuel hose and
nozzle being hung back in its cradle on the side of a gas pump.

After a pause, the driver’s door opened and closed again. There was
shuffling in the front and the van started again.

“I need to pee.”

Jack sniffed and chuckled. “Yeah, that isn’t going to happen.”

“I just need to pee. I swear I won’t try anything.”

“Sure,” Jack said. “Do you want to pick up some snacks too and wave at
the camera?”

“I’m going to wet myself, if you don’t let me pee. If not here, stop on
the side of the road somewhere.”

Gia realized he probably used a credit card instead of going inside to
pay. If that detail got out somehow, maybe it could help. She wasn’t sure how
exactly.

“Just shut up a minute and let me think,” Jack said.

The van pulled away from the pumps and bumped as it went back on the road
and picked up speed. The bump did not help her need.

“I’m going to piss and the van will smell until we get to where we are
going. You’ll be stuck in here with piss smell.”

Jack sounded like he was whispering. Was he on the phone? She raised her
head and listened.

“Sorry, Gia, you’ll just have to sit in it. I’ll clean you up when we get
to where we are going, but there’s no way around it.”

“You can trust me,” she said.

“We both know that’s not true, Gia. Now be cool before this has to get
worse for you.”

“I am being cool.” Her voice took an edge. “I know I made you feel bad. I
was confused. I had … Don all up in my head and didn’t know what I wanted or
what was good for me. You took care of that and now there is nothing between us
keeping us apart … except this silly tape and bag. I know what’s good for me
now.”

She heard the turn signal clicking in a steady rhythm and then it snapped
off again. Maybe he was changing lanes. She hadn’t felt a turn.

“That was good, Gia. Is that a practiced speech? Have you been working on
that in your head all this way?”

“It’s true,” she said. “Maybe it’s that syndrome people get when they
fall for their captors, but you and I had something before all this. It got
confused for a while, but now I see how much you care – how far you are willing
to go to have me. Maybe I’m messed up. I know I am after some of the games we
played, but this is how I feel now. You can trust me to get out and pee and
then we’ll keep going to wherever you have planned for us – our new life
together.”

Jack sighed from the driver’s seat. After a pause, he said, “I don’t
know, Gia. Just stay quiet for me, so I can think. Okay?”

“If I piss myself here in your van, it will ruin whatever fun you have
planned for us later.”

Jack cleared his throat and said, “What is it you think I’m going to do
to you, Gia?”

“There are only so many options when you tie a bitch up in a van, Jack.”

Jack hummed and then laughed in the back of his throat. “Those good
feelings dried up pretty fast. Go ahead and piss yourself then. It will dry up
too.”

“Fuck you, Jack.”

“There’s the truth.”

“I hope whatever you do to me gets done to you in prison one day.” Gia
felt her lips quivering.

“Why don’t you shut up again or I’ll tape your mouth and one of your
nostrils?”

“I hate you.”

“I’m not playing, Gia. Keep talking and I’ll close your mouth for you so
I don’t have to hear it. This is not the way you want to go with me.”

Gia managed to hold it for another hour, but then she let a little out
before she could get it back under control. It spread warm inside her jeans,
but went cold quickly. The pain was worse as she tried to hold it. More escaped
in a tight drizzle and felt like she was passing razor blades as she clenched
her muscles. Her back cramped and her throat burned.

She gave up and cut loose. It ran down her legs and escaped up her ass
crack up her back out of her jeans. She felt it run under her through the ribs
of the van floor. Then, it soaked into her shirt.

The van made a wide turn and it ran down farther soaking into the bag
over her head and into her hair. All she could smell was piss.

Gia tried to move, but every muscle in her legs cramped and she couldn’t
even shift around as much as she had before.

She itched and couldn’t reach to deal with the cold, dirty misery of it.

She felt the muscles in her face screw up and she balled. She heaved in
huge gasps of piss stinking air and sobbed some more.

Jack turned on the radio.

“… wanted in connection with the grizzly scene at the home of director
Don Blackheart, whose real name is Donald Kyle Blanchard, age 41. Authorities
are not releasing other details regarding the scene or the persons of interest
except to say that a body has not been found. Efforts to locate …”

Jack tuned the dial and blared a heavy metal song that set Gia’s head to
throbbing.

***