ARRESTED: A Stepbrother Cop Romance Read online

  I struggle again knowing that the bindings won’t give way. Drew was always so good with knots.

  “Do you like it?”

  I turn my head in Drew’s direction wondering how he can see me if I can’t see him in this blackness. But maybe he didn’t know I was about to scream. Maybe he was finished watching me struggle in vain and wanted to take my terror up a notch. What the hell does he think he’s doing? I knew he was prepared to use blackmail but kidnapping? The silliness of my worry about the pictures slams home when I move my hands and the rope cuts even deeper into my wrists.

  Blackmail, while humiliating, wouldn’t harm me physically. This, whatever his plans are for this, scares me more than the thought of the entire country seeing those pictures.

  “Drew, what are you doing?”

  “Giving you what you love,” he says and I can’t work out if his tone is mocking or if he’s trying to sound sexy. The idea that he might think that this is all part of a silly game between us steals my voice. Could he actually be that deluded? Even though I’m terrified and trembling I know I have to try and seem calm. Drew feeds off fear.

  “You have to let me go,” I say and manage those five words without my voice breaking or a tear slipping from my eye. In the eye of the storm, I feel a cold sense of control in me.

  “I can’t do that Allyson. I did this all for you. You think you know what’s best for us, but how can you? You don’t want to be in control, you want me to decide for you. Don’t worry, baby. I know just the way you like it.”

  A shiver of fear races through me. Although this isn’t the first time he’s tied me up, it’s the first time I have felt any fear. But now I’m so scared I feel like I can’t catch my breath. I struggle in vain against the bindings again hoping that in his haste to shackle me that he’s made a mistake. Maybe he forgot to pull a knot tight enough or has left me some room to slip my wrists out like he always did before. With each movement, though, the rope pulls tighter, digging into my wrists with a biting pain.

  “No,” I shout. “I don’t want this.”

  “Shhh,” he coos from somewhere closer to the bed. He’s moved and is now nearer and I strain against the bindings again because he’s going to touch me, I know it and I can’t stand it. I need to think of something to say, something that might convince him this is not his best option.

  I doubt he ever loved me, so using that angle isn’t going to get me anywhere. He likes the control as much as I like feeling helpless. Under the right circumstances, that is. And these are so not the right circumstances or the right person.

  “If you let me go I promise not to tell anyone. I’m not even angry about the pictures getting leaked.”

  His humorless laugh raises goose-bumps on my arms. “I know you went to the police. How could you do that after all we’ve been through together?”

  “I didn’t tell them much. Not enough, I swear. Let me go and we can forget about all of this,” I say.

  My eyes still haven’t grown accustomed to the dark and the earlier panic at being blind in a new room threatens to overwhelm me again. If I can’t see where he is, or what he’s doing, then I won’t be able to brace myself for whatever is coming next.

  “You told them enough. They’re looking for me.”

  “We’ll tell them it was a prank. That I knew all along you were going to release the photos and that I consented. I’ll sign a piece of paper now if you want.”

  The scrape of his feet against the floor has me on alert again. I’m trying to work out exactly where he is as the air moves against my arm. He’s close, looming over me in the shadows but I can’t make out his features. The bed dips slightly when he sits on the edge and, even though I know it’s hopeless, I still try to squirm away.

  The bindings hold me tightly.

  He seems to shift further onto the bed until I can feel his body touching my hip.

  “I need to remind you how good we are together,” he says.

  He sounds sane with a hint of insanity floating just below the surface. “We had some good times, didn’t we?” He doesn’t wait for me to reply before he carries on his musing. “I know we’ve had our ups and downs, but all relationships do. I know you’re scared but we can make it work.”

  I shiver, realizing that he is totally deluded. He actually thinks that we can get back together after all this. He obviously has no idea how serious a situation he has created. Had I known months ago that he would become obsessed with me, I never would have gone out with him.

  I shudder at the memory of Drew touching me now. How could I have let him do those things to me? The thought that all this is my fault rushes through my mind again. My fault for liking to feel helpless, my fault for liking the surrender when he tied me up and took my body again and again. My fault for encouraging him.

  “I remember,” I say. “Really, I do. But you need to let me go. This isn’t okay, Drew. I’m not okay.”

  “Once I show you how good I can make you feel, remind you how good we are together, you’ll withdraw your statement from the police.”

  “I already told you I would,” I shout in a rush. His hand clasps over my mouth and he keeps talking as though he hasn’t heard anything I said. In a way, it’s as though I’m not really there. He’s in his own little world where he’s talking to the other me. The Allyson that cared about him, the Allyson who liked him to do this to her.

  He can’t see that things have changed or that the nature of the relationship will never be the same. He thinks if he wills it enough, he’ll get his own way. Drew needs to prove a point, he needs to be in control again. All of this is him being in denial.

  “Drew, you can’t do this. I’m saying no. You have to stop. Let me go.”

  “How can I let you go when we’re meant to be together? Who else will give you what you need?”

  He rubs a hand up my thigh and I whimper. Not in pleasure as he hopes but in desperate fear.

  “Don’t worry. I know you. I know exactly what you want.”

  “I want to be untied,” I say forcefully, louder than I’ve ever spoken to him before, hoping it will pull him back to reality.

  “That’s not really what you want. I know what you like and being untied isn’t it. I’ll give you all the things you need, Allyson. Everything you crave. The powerlessness, the fear, the surrender. I’m going to give you all of those things. And then you’re going to come back to me.”

  17

  CORY

  CCTV footage from campus plays across a monitor at the police station. After examining Allyson’s room, Simons and I requisitioned the footage from the security office. The longer it took for them to hand it over the more anger simmered inside me.

  Anger at myself.

  I should have been the one to drive her back to the dorm. I would have stayed with her as long as she let me. If I’d been involved from the start like I wanted maybe Allyson wouldn’t be missing.

  Anger at my superiors for preventing me from doing what I knew in my heart was right.

  Despite my sergeant’s insistence that I’m too close to the case I now sit with Detective Jameson going through the CCTV footage. I pause, fast forward, rewind and pause again. I know the security footage is going to give us the clue we need to find Allyson, just like I know without a doubt that Drew took her. My hatred for the guy threatens to take over but I push down my anger so I can concentrate on what matters. Clues to what happened to Allyson.

  Hours of footage later, fast forwarded to about the time Allyson returned to the dorm with Rachel, something snags my attention. I almost miss it because there’s nothing particularly out of the ordinary about it. I watch as Rachel leaves the building, pausing at the bottom of the steps to look back to the lobby. A man wearing a cap hovers nearby with his head down, his back to Rachel. She pays him no attention as she walks from the lobby and down the sidewalk, back to a parking lot I assume.

  The man walks past the lobby door and off camera. I keep watching the door not knowing how soon
Allyson was taken after Rachel left.

  Shortly after, a dark blue pickup truck pulls up in front of the dorm. That alone doesn’t put my instincts on alert but when the guy gets out of the truck wearing a thick dark coat and a cap that hides part of his face, I pay a lot more attention. The same guy from before but this time he walks up toward the doors. He pauses, looking at his phone until someone exits the building. Just before the door can close behind them he snakes out his hand to stop the lock from catching and ducks inside.

  I swear under my breath. “That’s him. It’s got to be him.”

  “A likely suspect, but let’s see what happens before we jump to conclusions,” Jameson says.

  It wasn’t a huge jump. Suspicious behavior like that doesn’t lead to nothing. What possible reason could the guy have for loitering in front of Allyson’s dorm, waiting for Rachel to drive away? The guy would know Allyson was alone.

  We continue to watch the footage. A few minutes later the man exits the building, gets back in his truck and drives away. I slam my hands down on the desk in frustration. The sting of the impact barely registers. If that’s Drew, where the hell is Allyson? A twinge of uncertainty gnaws at the back of my brain. I’m not wrong about the guy’s identity but he’s not carrying an unconscious Allyson in his arms and loading her into the truck.

  I’m missing something still. If there are no clues there we need a concrete lead. “Rewind it to just before he pulls away,” I say.

  The operator nods, clicks the mouse and the footage reverses in quickly. He clicks the mouse again to play the footage. Both Detective Jameson and I lean in closer. I can’t read the license plate number. Instinct tells me running that plate will help. Instinct and maybe a little wishful thinking. I hate thinking about Allyson alone with Drew. What he’ll do to her. My hands fist at my sides, anger and impatience fusing into a dangerous combination.

  “Can you get in closer? I need to read that plate.”

  “I can try.”

  “I need a better look at his face too. Can you get a clearer shot of it?”

  The operator clicks a few more times with the mouse attempting to enhance the picture. The picture is a little larger, slightly pixelated but with more detail than we had before.

  “That’s the best I can do on the plate,” he says.

  Mud obscures some of the numbers, whether by normal driving on muddy roads or on purpose for nefarious means. I’m not sure but I have a pretty good idea. I jot down the numbers I can see hoping that they’ll be good enough to get a hit in the database.

  “Try his face now,” I say.

  The operator nods again and changes the zoom on the screen to focus on the man’s face. He zooms in too much making everything a blur of dark pixels interspersed with lighter colors. He zooms out a little bringing the face back into focus and a little larger than before but not too distorted.

  I recognize the man immediately. He’s the guy from the party. The one that held Allyson’s wrist too tight. The one who sent all the pictures around.

  “That’s him,” I say. “That fucking asshole.”

  I stand up quickly, shooting the chair back on its wheels to hit the wall on the other side of the office. All eyes turn to stare at me. Jameson raises an eyebrow, looks at my chair and nods slightly. I retrieve the chair, park it near the desk and sit again. Outbursts like that will convince my sergeant that he’s right about me being too close to the case. I force myself to calm down and think rationally. Allyson needs me right now and I can’t let my anger interfere. I can’t let her down again.

  I have no idea what the bastard will do with her. What he could be doing with her right now. I know approximately how long he’s had her. Every second is too long. We need to find her and we need to find her now.

  From the stories she related back to us in the interview room, the guy sounded like a complete jerk. Now I’m wondering if he’s the full ticket.

  I clench my fists at my sides, the urge to punch the guy’s lights out overwhelming, but first we have to find him.

  “I don’t think this can give us much more information,” I say.

  Now we have to do the real police work. The running information through databases, sifting through known associates. Turning over every stone until we find her and bring her back safely.

  I regret so many things.

  I wish I could tell her everything I’m feeling. That I don’t regret sleeping with her, even though she dashed my hopes afterward. That she’s done nothing wrong apart from trust the wrong man. I could see the shame in her eyes when she was telling her story. I felt so damn angry about it all that I didn’t get the chance to say what really mattered.

  I pull out my phone and punch in a number. Someone in the department who owes me a favor and will run the partial plate even though the case is off limits to me. My contact answers on the third ring. I don’t have time for chit chat so when he starts to tell me about his last poker game I cut him off.

  “Sorry man, this is urgent. Can you run something for me?”

  The heavy sigh on the other end tells me the poker game went well and John wants to brag about how much he won. “Sure. Whatcha got?”

  “You can tell me all about the game over beers later,” I say. That seems to appease him.

  “You know me too well, dude. What do you want me to run?”

  I rattle off the partial plate. I hear the clicking of keys on the other end as John types in the information.

  “Big database and not even full information. This could take a while,” he says.

  I feel the muscle in my jaw twitch. I reign in my anger. It’s not John’s fault we don’t have more to go on. He can’t make the technology work any faster. If I’d been standing I would be pacing the small office. Jameson and the tech guy stare at me waiting for the information.

  “I’ll wait,” I say with a shrug at the officers watching me.

  There’s a pause on the other end and I can hear him breathing into the phone. I imagine his mouth open about to say something but no sound comes out. There’s no talking me out of it when I make up my mind. I don’t want to hang up and risk not hearing the call when John does have information to give me.

  “Your dime, dude.”

  I hear papers being shuffled on the other end. More clicking of keys on a keyboard.

  “Are you typing something else? Can you do that while a search is in progress?”

  “Relax. Two systems. We can multi-task these days. You should try it. What’s this car been involved in?” he asks.

  I know he’s just trying to pass the time, the awkward silence that happens when you’re waiting for technology to catch up so you can tell someone something, begs to be filled. But it still annoys me. Everything about this whole situation has me boiling.

  “Possible kidnapping,” I say.

  Kidnapping. Once the word is out of my mouth there’s no taking it back. No one has said it up until now. I should have called her mother but I figure my dad will take care of that. Someone should tell Rachel as well. We’ll need to get her in to make a statement.

  I’ve never had anyone I know be the victim of a crime and I hate how helpless it makes me feel. I hate the fact that I know that in cases like this, where the perpetrator is moving up the scale of seriousness with each crime they are committing, that things can escalate very quickly.

  If he does anything else to her, I swear I’ll kill him.

  John clears his throat. “We have a winner!”

  “Tell me.”

  I have my notebook and pen ready.

  “The truck belongs to one Drew Hollingswood.”

  “Thanks, John. Beers are on me this week.”

  I disconnect the call and tell everyone in the room that the truck does indeed below to Allyson’s ex.

  “And how the hell do you know that?” my sergeant asks from behind me.

  I turn around in the chair.

  “You’re not supposed to be working the case. Do I need to remind you exactl
y what I already told you?”

  “I have to do something, Sarge. I can’t just sit here and twiddle my thumbs.” I stand up so I can look him in the eye. “You have to let me work the case. I have to be doing something.”

  He frowns and I’m sure he’s going to shoot me down again but he says, “Fine, but only if you work with Detective Jameson.”

  I look over at Jameson who gives a slight nod in agreement. I look back at my sergeant. “Done.”

  18

  ALLYSON

  Unconsciousness slowly drifts away and I wake up wondering when I blacked out again. My head is fuzzy and the room is still cast in shadows. I blink, trying to focus on the wall of black that surrounds me. How long have I been out this time? The chemical smell is so strong now that I wonder if that’s what Drew’s using to make me sleep.

  This waking up is different. I’m still tied to the bed but now I feel a gag over my mouth that sucks the moisture away from my lips and tongue. My mouth is dry and I desperately want some water, even a sip to take the dryness away. In a moment of panic, I gag against the cloth in my mouth. My stomach lurches but I swallow it down, taking deep breaths as fear that I’ll choke on my own vomit makes my heart race. I need to get the gag off my mouth.

  I try to move again. A futile attempt but I can’t just lie here and do nothing. The rope digs into my skin but I keep tugging, hoping I’ll be able to slip at least one hand out. One hand is all I need to get the gag off and maybe loosen my other binds. I yank my arms again and pain tingles at my wrists. The rope rubs against the skin making deeper, raw welts. Though I know it probably won’t help, I tug at the ropes around my ankles too in the faint hope they’re looser now, but Drew’s knots hold strong.

  I feel so hopeless that I growl against the gag. Struggling isn’t working, and he didn’t listen to anything I had to say. This time, the last thing I remember is Drew telling me he’s going to give me what I want. And then him touching my thighs. Anything after that is a gone. Panic slices through me again and I try to take a mental note as to the state of the rest of my body.

  My arms and feet are still held tightly but I move them as much as I can to determine how the rest of my body feels. Did he do something to me while I was unconscious? A tear forms in the corner of my eye and drops to the pillow still cradling my head. I realize that I’m not sore between my legs. My inner thighs feel fine, too. I don’t feel like anything has been done to me. I feel stupid for feeling relief because he didn’t violate me while I was out cold when he could come back at any second and do any of the things he’s intending.