Breathe, Britt.
I focus on staying calm so I can get the hell out of here. After a few moments of deep breathing, I clench my abs to swing both feet over the edge of the bed and can’t… because of the arm wrapped around my waist.
I’m not alone. The realization sends me over the edge.
Unable to contain the hoarse cry that rips from my constricted lungs, I scream until I wake whoever is in bed with me. I shout over and over and over, not caring that my voice eventually becomes ragged and sound no longer comes out. Hands grab my shoulders, holding me down on the mattress. I keep screaming silently, now struggling to get out of my assailant’s grip. But I’m weak and dehydrated, my head filled with cotton balls. It doesn’t take long for me to realize the futility of my actions, so I let my body go limp and slam my lips together.
“What’s wrong, Britt? I’ve got you. You’re okay.”
The man pulls me into his arms, holding me on his lap while rocking back and forth. My rapidly clearing mind is spinning with questions, none of them making any sense. I break down and ask the most important one, my voice no more than a soft whisper.
“Max? What am I doing here?”
“Shhhhhh,” he continues swaying back and forth on the bed with me in his arms, using one hand to caress my hair.
Using as much strength as I can manage, I place my bound hands on his chest and shove, falling off of his lap and onto the mattress. Before Max can react, I scramble to my hands and knees and scurry back on the bed.
“What is going on, Max? Why am I tied up and why are you in bed with me?”
Max lifts a hand and I let out a gravelly cry, swinging at him with my bound fists. Max’s expression of tenderness and concern turns into one of fury. I stop cold, terror slithering around my spine. The look on Max’s face is so frightening it chills me down to the marrow.
“It’s that bastard, Killer. He’s turned you against me, Britt. But that’s all in the past. Here, we’re free of him. We can be together now.” His disturbing mask slips away. Max is now smiling warmly, gazing at me like an old lover.
In shock, I stare at him, a man I worked with for two years. A man I accepted rides from, who has been in my apartment. A man I thought I knew and now don’t recognize at all. Keller was right all along in thinking something was off about Max. Nobody else noticed a thing. He fooled everyone.
“Max,” I say, trying to sound calm even though my hoarse voice wavers. “We’re not together. We were never together. You can’t tie me up and keep me here.”
“Shut up!” he shouts, smacking his hands down on the bed. Max jumps to the floor, standing over me as I cower away from him. “You were almost there, Britt. You were almost mine! Two years I worked on getting you to be with me and as soon as that… that… disgusting Killer shows up, you go and forget all about me!”
Max grabs my shoulders, strong fingers digging painfully into my flesh. He might not be a fighter, but he’s a trainer, and not weak by any means. Especially against a small, bound female.
“M-Max…” I struggle to ignore the pain of his fingers digging into my arms and stare into his eyes. They’re predatory, cold, like empty glass orbs placed into two holes in his face.
“You’re mine!” he roars. I squeeze my eyes shut and duck my head to avoid looking at that lifeless stare. “I don’t care how long it takes. You will come around, Britt.” He tosses me back like a rag doll. I bounce on the bed helplessly and curl up into a tight ball.
Between the loud hammering of my heart and only having one functional ear, I don’t hear Max move around the room. I certainly don’t hear him prepare the cloth. When Max’s hand slides around my mouth and nose, his other hand holds the back of my head, keeping me in place.
“Shhhhhh, it’s okay, Britt. It’s for your own good.”
Max’s words don’t affect me because a sweet, medicinal scent stings my nostrils with each ragged inhale. I know now I’m in bigger trouble than I ever imagined. I can’t fight, I can’t move, all I can do is breathe in the chemicals until my world fades to black.
Keller
“Britt! Open the goddamn door!” I pound my fists on the door to her apartment. “Britt! Fuck!” I thread my hands through my hair as I pace back and forth on her front step. Spinning on my heel, I slam my hands into the thick slab of wood again. “Britt! Open up! Now, goddamn it!”
Multiple calls and texts have gone unanswered, and now she won’t come to the door. The need to speak to her about the invitation, the shooting, has me at the edge of coming completely unhinged.
Several of Britt’s neighbors peek out of their own apartments to see who is making such a loud disturbance. No one challenges me or tells me to fuck off, and who would? I must look insane. Wearing loose shorts and tight T-shirt, covered in tattoos, with an expression on my face that likely screams of violence and danger.
I contemplate kicking her door down. It wouldn’t be too difficult, despite the outrageous number of deadbolts Britt has in place. A dozen strategically placed kicks is all it would take, but I can’t chance getting arrested. Hell, someone probably already called the cops.
Shit. I have to leave. Not only would an arrest get me kicked out of the AFL, but being locked up would keep me from finding Britt, and that’s something that I can’t allow to happen.
More frustrated than I’ve ever been in my life, I slam my hands into the door one last time and stalk back to my car. Pounding on the steering wheel doesn’t help lessen my agitation either. I breathe slowly to calm down, having absolutely no idea what to do next. The car is stifling, so I turn on the engine and lean back on the leather seat, letting the air conditioning cool my sweat-slicked skin.
While I wait for my temperature and blood pressure to return to normal, I notice the lot is only half full. It’s not surprising, being a Sunday afternoon and not a workday for most people. This time, I scan the lot with a purpose and realize Britt’s red BMW is nowhere to be seen.
“Son of a bitch!”