Stockholm Syndrome (5 page)

“Please, Evelyn, I’m not going to harm you. I just want to
talk. I’m sorry for what happened.”

His face turned to her, his expression pleading, wide
pale-green eyes staring into hers. His shaggy black hair looked unkempt, as if
he hadn’t bothered with a haircut for some time. It flopped over his forehead,
brushing against his eyelashes, and he jerked his head impatiently to flick it
out of the way.

“I thought you were someone else, a member of a team…sort
of. We were playing a stupid game.” His voice was bitter, drawing her eyes to
his mouth, twisted in a grimace of displeasure. His lips, thin and taut and
very masculine, added strength to his features. She took in his chin, square,
but not too prominent. Wow, an extremely attractive man, she thought with a
pang of regret, watching the movement of his throat as he swallowed. If she’d
met him socially…

But of course, she didn’t
want
to meet men since her
divorce. Not even drop-dead gorgeous ones. She focused on what he was saying.

“…mistake. But I’m a very wealthy man, and I’d like to make
this up to you—”

It was like a red flag to a bull. Evelyn’s blood boiled. “What
is it with bloody wealthy men?” she hissed, interrupting him. “Why do you all
assume that you can buy people off, or just pay them to do what you want?
Wealthy men have done nothing but cause me trouble all my life and you’re the
worst!” She scrambled off the bed, pulling her blanket wrap with her, and
turned to confront him angrily. “Do you think you can just buy me off and your
little problem will go away?”

“I’m not trying to buy you off,” he said, looking startled
as she advanced on him. “I’m offering to compensate you for the inconvenience I’ve
caused you. Although you…agreed…in the end, I realize you didn’t want to be in
this situation in the first place. I’m trying to do the right thing.”

“Oh, the
right thing
, sure. While conveniently
bypassing the part where you go to jail for rape and kidnapping! Do you think
you can go around ruining people’s lives and expecting to be let off scot-free
because,
oh whoops
, it was a mistake?” She was almost nose to nose with
him now, and with a rush of satisfaction, she saw the color drain from his
face.

“No, Evelyn,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “You were
ready for me. You wanted to do it. I
saw
you nod when I asked. Please… I
know I shouldn’t have caught you, but it wasn’t
rape
…”

***

Mason stared into her flushed face in utter dismay. Standing
so close, she wasn’t much more than a head taller than him as he sat on the
bed. Her deep-blue eyes flashed with anger, swimming with tears. Absurd
thoughts chased each other through his mind, but mostly he wished that he could
take her in his arms and kiss her better—just kiss all her hurt and pain away,
like his mother used to do for him when he was a little boy. Then keep kissing
her until she never wanted to leave him, until she begged him to keep her
forever. She was obviously an innocent, a good girl. Hell, she was probably
freaking out over the whole thing and beating herself up for having an orgasm. The
urge to comfort her almost overwhelmed him.

He blinked. What was he thinking? This woman hated him. She
wanted to see him hurt, punished, for what he’d done to her. He wondered how
she’d react if he suggested she do the punishing herself. He’d never submitted
to anybody in his life, but he might just consider it for her.

Christ, what was
wrong
with him? He needed to focus
on the problem at hand and figure out how to fix the fuck-up this situation had
become. But her tits were right there under his nose. She had a death grip on
that blanket, but there was no hiding the lavishly thrusting flesh under the
soft fabric. Flesh that he was intimately familiar with, as his raging cock
under his jeans reminded him. He couldn’t think straight.

“Evelyn,” he rasped, “go and have a shower. There’s a
bathroom in there. You might as well get cleaned up.”

“I don’t want to shower! I want you to let me go. You made a
mistake, and every minute that you keep me here makes it worse.”

“Well, I’m not letting you go ’til you shower. So get in
there right now!” he said, his voice a whip-crack of command.

She looked taken aback at the abrupt end to their
conversation. Flashing him a withering glare, she gathered up her jeans and
t-shirt and stormed into the bathroom, slamming and locking the door behind
her. He breathed a sigh of relief. At least he could think clearly when she
wasn’t too near him.

He couldn’t believe how much Evelyn affected him. No woman
had captured his interest for over four years, and suddenly he was having a
full-blown reaction to this one—one who hated his guts.

He’d attended to his sexual needs, of course. He had an
arrangement with a woman in Rockhampton. She was about ten years older, but in
good shape, and generous and enthusiastic about sex. Most importantly she was
happily married, with two grown-up teenage kids, and with no intention of
leaving her husband, whom she adored. The problem was that her husband was a
sweet and considerate lover, and she was a closet sub who enjoyed rough sex.
Mason was more than happy to help her out, and had plenty of opportunity to do
so, since her husband worked on fly-in-fly-out projects on the mines. So he
fucked frequently, but kept it casual, and that was how he liked it.

The shower started up in the bathroom and he groaned. She
was in there, so close, naked and wet with slippery soapsuds running all over
her satiny skin. Small as she was, he could just walk in, pick her up and put
her on his cock. In the world of Mason Brady, successful businessman and sexual
Dominant, that was how it worked.

He needed more distance, so he let himself out of the room,
locking the door behind him. It was time to tell Owen the bad news.

His brother, sitting at the desk in the room next door,
jumped up expectantly. “So, what happened?”

“She’s crying rape.” His voice was flat, but conveyed a
world of disappointment.

“Fuck! So now what? Tell me you’ve got a plan.”

Mason squared up to his brother. “I’m going to keep her.”

Owen blinked and stared. “I beg your pardon? You couldn’t
possibly have just said… What the
fuck
are you thinking?”

“It’s very simple. If I let her go now, she’ll run straight
to the police. She hates me.”

“Fuck! But couldn’t you just explain—”

“Owe,
think
for a moment. I’d be in deep shit.
Life-ruining shit. And it’s very likely that other people who were here playing
The Chase will be in shit too, like you, since you organized it.”

Owen sank back into the chair, obviously dumbfounded.

Mason continued urgently. “The point is that I’m
not
a rapist and I
didn’t
rape her. This was all a terrible mistake. I love
women! I’m not hate-filled and violent toward them. I damn sure don’t want to
harm them! But with the way this looks—like I planned it, like I stalked her—I
could end up in bloody jail! It would be her word against mine. Think what it
would do to Mom and Dad!”

Owen looked shaken. “Fuck,” he whispered. “
Fuck
!”

“Yeah, this is serious! So I can’t just let her go. I have
to keep her until I can convince her not to go to the police.”

“How the fuck are you going to do that?”

“I have no bloody clue! But I have to think of something.
And I have to hang on to her until I do. Surely you can see that?”

“But if you keep her, it goes from being an accident to a
full-on kidnapping. It’ll make everything much worse!”

“Unless I can persuade her not to turn me in. It’s a risk I
have to take. She’s very upset right now. She might calm down in a few days.”

“I don’t like the odds.”

“Well, obviously. But you have to help me anyway.”

“What do you mean,
help
you?”

“We need to move her. Don’t look at me like that! I can’t
keep her here in that tiny room. You organized this place for twenty-four
hours, for The Chase. Tomorrow we have to be out and I suppose some of the res
students might come back. It would be impossible to hide her here for long.”

“So what the fuck are you going to do with her?”

“
We
are going to take her up to the ranch. It’ll be
safe. Besides George and Edna, nobody will know she’s there, and they won’t
interfere.”

“Oh crap, Mace! That’s eight hundred kilometers away. And we’ll
have to drive—we can’t fly with her along.”

“That’s right, and I want to leave within a couple of hours,
by three at the latest. So you need to pack some stuff, and bring your van
around to the res car lot where I parked. Do you have a helper who can finish
up The Chase?”

“Yeah, Andy can do it. But can’t we wait a bit? All the
girls want to fuck me ’cause I’m the Captain. There’s a
line
of them
waiting for me downstairs!”

“Then Andy’s a lucky guy. We must go early, before the
traffic, and before the police are out and about.”

“Can’t you just go? Why drag me along?”

Mason stared at him.

“Okay, okay! Fucking hell!” Owen flushed.

“One more thing, I found these keys in her pocket. Do you
know where this place is?” He showed Owen the address on the key tag.

“Yeah, it’s not far. Lots of students live on that street.”

“Good.” He dropped the keys into his brother’s palm. “See if
you can find it, and get her some clothes and stuff.”

“What if somebody sees me?”

“They’ll think you’re her boyfriend. Besides, if you’re
lucky, no one’ll be around at this hour of the night.”

“All right, I’m going. What’s she doing now?” Owen paused
with his hand on the doorknob.

“Having a shower. I locked her in. I’m going back there now.”

***

Evelyn stood on top of the toilet with her head stuck out of
the tiny bathroom window, which she’d opened wide. Behind her, the shower sent
clouds of steam billowing up to the ceiling.

She’d climbed up to see if the window offered an escape
route—she was small enough to squeeze through—but it was a sheer, three-story
drop to the dark ground at the back of the res. Just as she pulled it closed
again, she heard her captor’s voice, loud and clear, from outside.

A quick peek had revealed that the open window of the room
next door was scarcely more than an arm’s length away. He was in the next room,
speaking to somebody!

As quick as a flash, she leaped down from the toilet and ran
out into the bedroom, grabbing a towel on the way to cover her nakedness. She
went to the door and turned the knob. Locked. Shit! There were no sounds from
without, nobody to hear her if she banged and screamed.

She returned to the bathroom and climbed up to the window
again. Maybe she would overhear something useful, or, if she were lucky, see
someone outside to call to. Nothing moved in the shadowy garden below, so she
stood still and listened carefully. After a moment, she made out the
conversation. Her captor’s name was Mace and he had just announced to somebody
called Owe that he wasn’t planning to let her go! She almost fell when he said
that. It was monumentally, mind-blowingly unfair. How
dare
he not let
her go now that he’d discovered his enormous mistake?

And he planned to take her away to some godforsaken deserted
ranch! How could he do such a thing when he’d already done her so much wrong,
violated her? A fresh surge of panic swept over her—she couldn’t let him take
her away. What if he never let her go?

She had every intention of reporting him to the police, of
course. He needed to be punished! The strength of her outrage astonished her,
sending fiery heat quivering through her limbs and washing away some of her shame
and fear. To his credit, Owe seemed to think it was a terribly bad idea, but
that didn’t stop him from agreeing to help her nemesis. Clearly he also needed
to be taught a lesson, especially as he seemed to have played a role in
organizing the events that led to her capture.

She scanned the ground again. Where were all the people
she’d heard earlier? Maybe she should scream anyway. She drew a deep breath
then released it in a quivering, soundless gust. The only people she knew for
sure would hear her, were Mace and Owe in the next room, and they’d reach her
long before anyone else could.

When they mentioned leaving by three she climbed down, her
legs trembling. He’d be back soon. She’d better get on with her shower. But at
least she knew what she needed to do to get free. She had to convince them that
she wouldn’t go to the police.

Chapter Three

Mason sat on the bed, deep in thought, when Owen came back.
It was almost time to leave, but Evelyn hadn’t come out of the bathroom yet,
although the water had stopped running over an hour ago. Mason let his brother
in then knocked on the bathroom door.

“Come on, Evelyn, it’s time to come out.”

“No.”

He rattled the thin plywood door. “Don’t be like that,
please. You could probably break this door down. You know I can. Just come out
like a good girl.”

The door opened, releasing a gasp of humid air, fragranced
with the perfumes of soap, shampoo, and the essence of Evelyn herself. He
inhaled lustfully.

She was dressed in her jeans and t-shirt again, her damp
hair hanging over her shoulders in gently curling tendrils. Although her face
was flushed pink from the heat of her shower, dark circles marred the
translucent skin under her eyes. She looked exhausted but she met his gaze with
a determined expression.

“I’ve done a lot of thinking. I realize that what happened
was a mistake, and I admit you didn’t rape me.”

Damn, there was never a voice recorder handy when you needed
one, thought Mason. But this was too easy and his instincts prickled.

She went on. “I won’t go to the police, or cause any trouble
about this. I just want to forget the whole thing. Please let me go now.”

Sincerity throbbed in her voice. Tension crackled like an
electric current between them.

“Sorry, Evelyn. I think you’re going to run to the police as
soon as I let you out of my sight.”

“I will not, damn it! I said I won’t, so I won’t!”

“Won’t you? Look at you. You’re so angry.” His voice just a
whisper, he gazed down on her face, searching for the truth. “You want to
punish me, don’t you, Evelyn? You’d like to see me suffer. I can’t blame you.”
He sounded resigned, regretful.

“Please just let me go. Don’t take me away somewhere.” Her
voice was a desperate, broken whisper, her throat so clogged with emotion that
she could hardly speak.

“Oh, you heard that, did you?” He shook his head,
disappointed that he’d read her so accurately. “The walls are even thinner than
I remember. I’m really sorry, but I just can’t let you go until I know for sure
that you won’t go to the police.”

“Then you’ll have to keep me forever,” she whispered,
“because I hate you, and nothing will ever change that.”

She brushed past him without a word then stopped short when
she saw Owen.

“Ah, the rapist has a friend.”

Owen winced and flushed, looking past her to Mason.

“This is my brother, Owen. I’m Mason Brady, by the way. And
you just admitted I didn’t rape you. We both heard you say it.”

“I pretended to admit it so that you’d let me go. And nobody
would believe him anyway. He’s an accomplice and your brother.”

“Damn it, Evelyn! This isn’t a game!”

She said nothing, but crossed to the table where her mobile
and card were lying and picked them up. Her shoulders slumped visibly when she
realized that her phone was broken.

“I’ll buy you another one. Any kind you like.”

She snorted and put the broken phone and card into her back
pocket.

“Did you get everything?” Mason asked Owen.

“Yeah, it’s in my van. Do you want me to transfer it to your
car?”

“No, it’s okay where it is.”

He turned to Evelyn and took a deep breath. This was not
going to be pleasant.

“Evelyn, you have to wear the hood again until you’re in the
car. I wish there was another way, but I don’t want anybody to see you and I
can’t have you signaling to anyone. If you promise not to fight, I won’t tie
your hands.”

She stood for a moment, staring at him without moving, until
he felt about two centimeters tall. Then, with a quiet dignity, she moved to
the bed and picked up the hood from where it lay on the pillows. Shaking out
the fabric, she pulled it over her head and waited, her arms at her sides.

He exchanged glances with Owen, who shrugged, then hastily
pulled on his black shirt.

“I’ll just carry you,” he said roughly. “It’ll be easier.”
His cock leaped at the opportunity to hold her again.

He picked her up and cradled her against his chest. She
resisted for a minute, rigid in his arms, then slumped against him. He left
Owen to lock up behind him and strode off to the car park, wishing it were
farther away.

***

Evelyn gave in to exhaustion and let her head rest on
Mason’s shoulder. She had never been so tired in all her life, emotionally,
physically, mentally. What a botch she’d made of convincing him she wouldn’t go
to the police. She needed to sleep and to eat something, and then she’d be
ready to fight again. That was why she’d submitted with such apparent meekness
to wearing the hood. She was glad he couldn’t see her face as she let her eyes
close, her head cushioned on a thick pad of muscle. He smelled good, clean and
masculine, of spicy aftershave and a hint of musk, probably from their sex.

She couldn’t stop thinking about it. Her pussy was tender
and throbbing, and since she didn’t have any panties on, the seams of her jeans
chafed her, an uncomfortable and insistent reminder of how he’d invaded her. Her
breasts were also tender, her nipples painfully sensitive. In fact, despite her
shower, her body bore a hundred signs of his possession. She’d washed his come
off her inner thighs under the hot water, but she could do nothing about the
sperm inside her. She imagined it coating the walls of her channel, her womb.
She was on the pill, thank god, but pregnancy was only one of her worries. She
needed to speak to him about it.

She sighed. That could also wait until tomorrow.

“I’m taking your van, Owe, and you’re going to drive my
car.” They had reached the vehicles, apparently, but he didn’t put her down.

“You’re gonna let me drive your Range Rover? Fuck, that’s
sweet!”

“Well, Evelyn’s going in the back of your van where she
can’t be seen, and I don’t want to leave her, so I’ll have to drive the piece
of shit. It looks even worse than when I last saw it!”

“Yeah. I went down to Tasmania with the guys last break. It
was a long haul for the old girl.”

“It hardly looks like it’ll make it to the ranch. When last
did you have it serviced?”

Owen laughed at his brother’s worry. “Just a couple of weeks
ago! Have a bit of faith—she doesn’t look like much, but she’s got spirit!”

“Hmm, we’ll see. Is the bedding in the back clean?”

“Er… Just give me one minute.”

Mason cradled her in his arms for another ten minutes while
Owen opened and closed doors and rummaged around in the back of the van, making
thumping noises.

“All done,” he said at last. “I’ll just put this dirty stuff
in the Rover. You can put her in.”

But Mason still held on to her. “You get going, Owe. I want
you to drive in front, about fifteen or twenty minutes ahead of us. If you see
any police, or if there’s a roadblock, phone me, so I can turn off.”

“Fucking good plan! I’ll get going then. See ya!”

A minute later Owen pulled out with much revving of the
engine. She felt Mason take a deep breath.

“Don’t worry about the car, Evelyn,” he said. “It’s a POS,
but I’m an excellent driver.” He said it without pride and she believed him.

Without releasing her, he climbed into the back of the van
and crawled forward on his knees, stooping low. He laid her down on a soft
surface and took off the hood.

Evelyn blinked up at him in the dim illumination provided by
the car-park lights. He leaned right over her, his face hovering above hers. A
quick glance revealed the back of an old sleeper van, the entire floor taken up
by the mattress. Kitschy lace curtains covered the small, high windows. It was
hard to see, but the predominant color scheme seemed to be yellow.

‘“Yeah, it’s Owen’s fuck-mobile,” drawled Mason. “I think
it’s older than he is, but he loves it dearly.”

She almost laughed in surprise, but his next question
sobered her.

“Do you think you can behave, Evelyn? It’s going to be an
eight-hour trip at least. I’m sure you’d prefer not to be tied up the whole
time.”

“Please don’t tie me up.” She despised the pleading note in
her voice. “I’ll be good.”

He dropped his head for a moment. “God, you say the sweetest
things. But I hate the word don’t.”

She frowned in confusion.

“I won’t tie you now but I can see you in the rear-view
mirror. If you try to escape, or signal to other cars, or do anything other
than lie here perfectly still, I’ll pull over and truss you up so fast you
won’t know what happened! Understood?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

“Good girl. Try to get some sleep.”

His body pressed against hers for the briefest moment before
he backed away, pausing to adjust the curtains so no gaps were visible.

He closed and locked the rear doors of the van then slid
into the cab behind the wheel, and a moment later they were underway. He drove
smoothly and within minutes sleep stole over her.

When she woke, bright afternoon sunlight was streaming
through the open windows, the air in the van hot. The engine was off and it was
very quiet except for the loud cooing of a pigeon somewhere nearby. She was
sweaty and thirsty, and a heavy weight rested against her. Mason slept behind
her, squashed in between her body and the side of the van, his heavily muscled
arm curled around her below her breasts. She froze, and her blood ran hot, then
cold, then hot again. He’d removed his shirt! She could see his naked shoulder
if she turned her head slightly.

She desperately needed to get out of the suffocatingly hot
van. She had to relieve herself, now. Escape was on her mind, but secondary to
these more urgent, earthy needs.

She looked at the arm around her. He was much more tanned
than she was, with a sprinkling of black hair up the forearm. Thick veins
raised ridges under his skin, and his upper arms were the size of her thighs.
He wore three dark bands of leather thong, intricately knotted, around his
brawny wrist. Gingerly she grasped it above the leather and tried to lift his
arm away from her body. She encountered no resistance and his breathing remained
regular, but when she eased her body away from his, the arm snapped tight and
he woke up.

“Where are you going?” His mouth right next to her ear, his
breath tickled her neck.

She struggled against his hold. “Let me go, damn it. I need
air, I’m boiling. And I really need to pee. What are you doing in here anyway?”
Suspicion and fear made her voice shrill.

He let her go and they sat up. She thrust away from him, as
far as she could in the cramped confines of the van, and stared at him with
open hostility. Her shirt was damp where his arm had been resting.

“I needed to sleep. I’ve been driving for hours. I held on
to you so that you couldn’t escape.”

He crawled to the foot of the bed and opened the doors.
Blessedly cooler air blew in. She pulled her sticky t-shirt away from her skin
and scrambled out of the van with him on her heels.

He had parked under some tall eucalyptus trees next to a
narrow dirt road. Dappled shadows chased each other over the sandy ground as
the sun beat down through the leaves. Across the road was a small lake, with
little brown ducks drifting lazily on the surface. No buildings. No cars. No
people.

“Where are we?” asked Evelyn, looking around.

“We’re actually pretty close to my ranch, about an hour
away,” replied Mason. “You slept for a long time. We still have to pass through
Rockhampton, but Owen phoned to let me know there’s a police roadblock outside
the city—just the usual, checking licenses and breathalyzing for drink
driving—but we don’t want to risk them finding you in the back of the van.
We’ll have to wait until they pack up and go, so I decided to pull off the
highway for a rest.” He looked at the sky. “When I parked, the van was on the
shady side of the trees. We’ve been here for almost four hours.”

He yawned and stretched lavishly, arching his back, all the
muscles in his arms and torso rippling and elongating. She knew she was
staring, but who wouldn’t? On his tall frame those bulky muscles looked sleek,
not brutish. On the muscle under his upper left arm was a tattoo, a stylized
cross.

“Enjoying the view?” He grinned, catching her eyes on him.

She snorted and turned away. “I don’t like anything about
you.”

She marched ’round the van into the trees. “Turn your back
and don’t look. And don’t panic, I won’t try to escape.”

“I know you won’t,” he said smugly. “There’s nothing around
for miles and you don’t even know which way the highway is.”

“Ha! So you admit that holding on to me in the van was just
another excuse to molest me! Keep your damned hands to yourself from now on. Your
touch makes me sick!”

***

Mason sighed. She’d seemed so compliant the night before,
lying in his arms when he’d carried her to the van, that he’d allowed himself
to hope she would forgive him, that she understood his profound regret over
what had happened. He’d taken a huge risk with not tying her up, but he felt so
bad about what he was doing that he didn’t have the heart to torment her any
further. Her exhaustion was palpable, and he’d gambled that she’d fall asleep
quickly, which she had.

He’d driven for over seven hours, acutely aware of the
sleeping woman behind him, tormented by his guilty thoughts and the realization
of how terrible the consequences of his error might be.

They had not had safe sex. He’d thought they were protected
by the rules of The Chase—she on birth control, and both of them with certified
clean bills of health—but the rules didn’t apply. She didn’t seem the type, but
that was no way to judge, and she could have an STD. Even worse, she could be
pregnant right now.

He’d raced on through the dark until the breaking dawn lit
the horizon on his right, with fear churning in his gut, praying that things
would somehow be better in the full light of day and wondering what he’d do if
the worst happened. He couldn’t imagine knowing that a child of his was alive
in the world but beyond his reach.