“Whoa,” he said and in an instant, they both toppled and she was on the carpet with him sitting on her. He pinned her wrists above her head.
“What do we have here?” he chuckled, then he turned serious and leaned toward her, “This is a surprise. I heard you were feisty. You’re like a lit firecracker. Tell me your name, little cherry bomb.” He was an inch from her face and he locked eyes with hers.
She blazed a dirty look at him, “Fuck you. Who are you? What do you want?” She tried to get her arms free but he was strong. He didn’t look like he was fighting too hard to hold her down but she couldn’t move.
Something changed and he wasn’t looking through a window any longer. It was like their eyes were at a standoff. His brows raised and he tilted his head slightly, gaze still fixed on her eyes. He moistened his lips again and leaned back and his expression changed to puzzled. After a beat he blinked twice, leaned toward the crook of her neck and inhaled deeply.
“What the---?” she shuddered and pulled her shoulder toward her ear, “Get off!”
He leaned back, eyed her up and down, shook his head, looking confused, “Something’s not right.” He released her wrists. She tried to scramble away but he was still sitting on top of her.
“What? Not used to hearing girls say no? Damn straight something’s not right. Let me go!” She couldn’t help notice that he smelled like hot baked cookies. Her stomach rumbled in response. She thrust the heels of her hands forward against his chest in an effort to push him off balance. It was like her hands had hit a steel wall. They stung. And he hadn’t budged. Kyla winced in pain. He looked surprised.
He grabbed her forearms and got to his feet, pulling her up with him, “What are you on? Tell me.” He had a befuddled look on his face.
She let out a cry and tried to struggle some more. It was as if his eyes were trying to bore a hole into her. He gave a little push and she was back on the bed. She tried to scramble to her feet but he pushed her back down. “Don’t move,” he ordered; his face was almost sinister. She froze, suddenly gripped by fear.
“Don’t move,” he repeated and pointed at her. He picked up a cell phone from the nightstand and backed up so that he was about ten feet away, leaning against a door. Her eyes scanned the room as he swiped the screen a few times. He thrust his free hand through his hair. She was about to jump up but then he pointed again, as if his pointed finger would be enough to keep her still.
“Where did you find her?” he spat into the phone. After a beat he added, “Still completely lucid. No drugs. Nope. Something is off here.”
“I think it’s pretty obvious, you’ve got the wrong girl,” she spoke up, “If you’d just stand aside so I can leave we can forget all about this.” Kyla got to her feet.
“Sit,” he told her with a hard stare, pointing at the bed and kept talking into the phone, “I don’t smell any sign of that. Come up. Did she have a bag? Yeah, bring it.”
She spotted a glass alcohol decanter that was within arm’s reach on a long dresser. She lunged for it and hurled it at him. He stepped aside, dodging it before it shattered against the door he’d been leaning against. His eyes widened. She ran for the now unblocked door but he reached out and caught her by her long ponytail and she ricocheted back against his frame. He was considerably taller than her.
His mouth was beside her ear, “Freeze,” he said. He still had her hair in his hand. The air left her lungs briefly and she did freeze, absorbing his hot breath for a beat. Then, when he loosened the grip, she started to frantically punch him, scratch him, kick, do whatever she could to fight. She knew that the #1 rule, if abducted, was that you do whatever you have to do to get away.
Well, if you wanted to be technical about it the number one rule was to not let your assailant get you to the second location but since it was too late for that she had to fight to try to get out of here --- and now.
Her efforts, despite the flailing and grunting, weren’t getting her anywhere. He didn’t flinch at any of her hits or kicks and then he pulled her hair tighter and caught one of her wrists.
“Stop; calm down,” he stared into her eyes in that weird way again.
What was with the crazy eye thing?
Kyla grunted in frustration and continued to try to batter him, to make him let go, but as she clawed and hit and kicked all she was really accomplishing was tiring herself out. She kept struggling but she was quickly running out of steam. Punches, kicking, elbowing, scratching, hair pulling, none of it had any effect on him whatsoever.