Voyeur Ch. 06

After a bewildering moment of gathering her bearings, Rachel froze with shock. There was a man on top of her, and it wasn't Ben. A large hand crept up her neck to skilfully stifle the scream building in her throat. Unable to breathe, Rachel's eyes pleadingly widened.

The stranger grinned, and the uniquely appealing smile triggered Rachel's memory. She immediately knew him as the man who'd interrupted Marcus' tirade. Ray saw the realisation dawn across Rachel's features as she recognised him.

"Ah. You remember me," he ruefully observed.

Horrified, Rachel unsuccessfully tried to shake her head, still choking for air.

"Sure you do," he said, with a hint of annoyance as though she'd intentionally inconvenienced him. "I presumed if you didn't see my face...oh, well. Don't scream, and I'll let you breathe. Deal?"

Rachel nodded piteously and a second later gasped sweet oxygen. Before she could speak, her chin was held in a vicelike grip, and the man kissed her suffocatingly.

Ray groaned against her lips, discovering they were as delicious as they looked. Shocked, Rachel squealed with fright and quickly pulled out of the kiss once her chin was released.

"I've got to get you out of here," Ray muttered against her cheek.

"N-No! Don't!" Rachel begged, alarm building with each passing second.

Though she was quite frightened when Ben ambushed her, this was entirely different. She was petrified, and not in a sexy way. There was no excitement or sexual tension. Being forcibly kissed by a masked stranger was terrifyingly unpleasant.

The man backed off her, and Rachel was yanked to her feet and pulled against him. Before she'd barely registered the sight of his wide chest in her face, a gloved hand clapped over her mouth.

"Sh." He smiled, predicting another scream attempt.

"Nff! Mhhhfff!" Rachel moaned, trying to resist him. The man was slightly taller than Ben, with a similar strength she had no chance against.

"Be good, and I won't choke you," he said, completely unbothered by her struggling. Releasing her mouth, his hand lingered warningly by her neck.

"Please, I have money, just not here," Rachel hoarsely pleaded. Her wide, beseeching eyes had a completely different effect on Ray to the one she hoped.

"I would never let a girl pay on the first date," he teased, quite awed by his physical reaction to her.

Abductions hardly raised his heartrate, unless the victim was hefty and struggling. Rachel was neither, and Ray's heart was pounding. "I'm not here for money. I'm here for you."

"M-Me? But I...I..." she stammered.

As he pressed closer, Rachel felt her attacker's muscular hardness and something more threateningly hard nudge her belly.

"I...I don't want you!" she said shrilly.

Ray laughed and caught her wrists. He expected something a lot nastier; insults or threats of consequences. But of all the things the girl chose to do, she stated the obvious.

"You're a bizarre little thing," he grinned. "Now, don't give me trouble. If Ben comes back early, I am going to kill him. Understand?"

"I t-thought you were a nice g-guy," Rachel said tearfully.

"I can be, Rachel," he softly answered, running his eyes down her body, the light in his hazel eyes darkening with lust. "I'll treat you better than your ex." Ray glanced around, realising he'd dropped his goody bag downstairs.

Rachel's eyes widened. The sound of her name on a stranger's lips was indescribably disconcerting. But more concerning was that he knew Marcus. The puzzle pieces were connecting, yet she was still wholly in the dark.

As Rachel's mind continued to whirr, she was abruptly lifted and carried off. The whole situation felt like a weird dream; a ridiculous, nonsensical nightmare. Resting shocked and limp in Ray's arms, Rachel's mind snapped to the repercussions of what was happening.

You're being kidnapped. DO SOMETHING!

As they passed through the kitchen, Rachel jerked back to seize a frypan handle. In a swift, awkward movement, she whacked Ray across the head.

Ray staggered with more surprise than hurt, almost dropping her. Rachel slipped in his arms and her feet touched the floor, but Ray still had a loose hold on her. Having a stranger's arms around her body so intimately, sparked fresh panic. Rachel hit him again, this time in the face.

It wasn't a particularly impressive blow, given their proximity and Rachel's comparative weakness. Before she could get a third hit in, Ray quickly seized the pan and easily twisted it from her grip.

"Not so good, after all," he remarked, swiftly lunging as Rachel fled for the front door. He seized her wrist and yanked her back.

Awkwardly colliding with Ray's chest, Rachel briefly held onto him to keep her footing. The man was solid, and was dressed completely in black like a lethal ninja. Before she could think, he spun her around and forced her hands behind her back.

Ziiip. "There."

Rachel's wrists were tightly pinned together, and she only managed half a scream before it was strangled by Ray's pinching fingers.

"Now, now."

Feeling faint, Rachel was dimly aware of him fumbling. Then something painfully jabbed her shoulder. An inability to stand upright soon followed, and when he turned her, she slumped against him. He smelled good, like cedarwood, and Rachel knew it was a scent she would hate for the rest of her life. If she lived.

"That's it. Good girl. Time to go."

The deep voice echoed around her ears and Rachel used her last bit of strength to lift her head. Panicked, blue-green eyes stared into calm hazel.

Various frightened thoughts crossed Rachel's mind as the blackness crept closer. She wondered why he was doing this. She wondered if Marcus wanted her dead. She wondered why her attacker kissed her. She saw Ben's face.

Before succumbing to unconsciousness, Rachel made one last observation. The thought emerged with curious clarity, in complete insolation to her dire situation, and purely centred on her confident captor.

He's done this before.

*******

Ben tiredly snapped the front door shut and allowed his gym bag to slide from his shoulder to the ground. Stretching, he frowned at the dark, quiet apartment. It wasn't that late, and he'd hoped to maybe find Rachel lingering in the kitchen making a snack, or on the couch watching TV.

Mildly disappointed Rachel turned in early for the night, Ben was confident of being able to ease her from sleepy state to wild arousal, without rebuke. He was a little bemused when he caught a whiff of eucalyptus and realised the floor and kitchen had been recently cleaned.

Ben would remember the next ten minutes for the rest of his life. Realising the apartment was empty, he relived the horrible feeling of waking up to find her gone. Except this was far worse. That first night, she was full of insecurity. This time, it was a blatant rejection that made little sense, but wasn't inconceivable. Regardless, it fucking hurt.

Some of her things were gone. There was no note. And the fact she'd cleaned added salt to the wound. She hadn't flounced out in an emotional state; she actually took the time to sterilize the place. Clearly, a firm decision had been made. A decision to leave him without so much as a 'goodbye'.

And yet...

Ben blinked at Rachel's beloved plant. She loved that little plant so much that he was actually jealous of the damn thing. Collapsing on the couch, dark anger swirled through him as he gazed at the ceiling. Did she think he wouldn't want answers? Did she think he would just let her leave, and not face him like an adult?

Incredibly aggravated, Ben pinched the bridge of his nose to stem a headache building from pure frustration. He knew Rachel had demons, but the one thing he asked was that she didn't leave. It was the only demand he made. And now, she was gone.

Tearing off his clothes, Ben fell into bed knowing he wouldn't sleep a wink. For a full, harrowing hour his thoughts circled around the hollowing loss of Rachel. How empty his bed and life suddenly felt without her.

Of course, it was far from over. But he would wait until morning to confront her; he was too upset to pursue it now. It was going to be a very long night. One thing was for certain - he was getting answers. He wasn't letting her go without a fight. He wasn't letting her go, period.

Hearing a mild buzz, Ben abruptly sat up and peered around the dark. It was a distinctly familiar drone that summoned both heartache and confusion.

Scampering from the bed, Ben didn't bother getting to his feet. He crawled across the floor to the dim light glowing from under his chest of drawers. Reaching under to retrieve Rachel's phone, the first thought to surface in his mind was a snide one.

Huge oversight. She'll have to come back.

Rachel never cared if Ben knew her pin, and Ben never cared to check her phone. Now, he shed all consideration for privacy as he unlocked it. The text was from her mother.

'Saturday is fine. We can't wait to meet Ben x'

Ben scrolled the earlier messages. Rachel gushed about him to her mother, to someone called Meredith. There was no indication of trouble or any desire to leave him.

Frowning heavily, Ben slowly sat back onto the bed. He remembered the way Rachel kissed him on the way out. The way she hugged him. Neither gesture held any trace of discontent. And she wouldn't leave her phone. Why was it under the cabinet?

Mulling over it, an image of Rachel's plant flashed to the front of his mind like a critical puzzle piece. Ben lunged across the room and hit the lights. Then he rifled through Rachel's drawers, looking for something specific.

Hoping for failure, Ben's heart stopped when his frantic fingers closed around what he searched for. The item glittered with a light-hearted jingle, clustered in his clenched palm. He stared at the keys in his hand. Rachel's apartment keys.

She mopped the floor, but left everything important behind. If she's not at her apartment - where is she?

Ben forgot his own insecurities in a wave of horror as he remembered Marcus. The guy with too much money who was sore about losing Rachel. The guy who tracked him professionally, and publicly harassed Rachel for daring to move on with her life. A rich stalker.

A new emotion swiftly buried Ben's anger.

Fear.

****

Ray's eyes continually flickered to his mirror to check Rachel in the back seat. She was securely belted in, her pretty face shielded by strands of lustrous red-brown as her head lolled to one side. With her hands retied in front of her and a cardigan across her lap, none would guess she was a captive. She looked quite sweet, really.

In a split-second decision, Ray decided not to keep her in the boot. There was no way she'd wake up before their destination. And she wasn't a job, she was something he specifically wanted for himself, and he took good care of his property. Though it was difficult for Ray to reconcile with what he was doing, as time passed he was only pleased with his course of action. There was definitely no regret.

He'd watched Ben at the gym enough times to gauge the best time-frame to snatch Rachel. After considering sabotaging Ben's bike, Ray decided it would better suit his purposes to limit proof of a coordinated attack.

Ray was very uneasy taking that chance. His first impression about Ben was spot on - the guy could really fight. After witnessing what Ben could do in the ring, Ray definitely wanted to avoid a tussle. He knew if Ben came home early it would have been an exceptionally ugly fight to the death.

The sounds of city and traffic eventually faded, and Ray put the windows down to enjoy the fresh air and sounds of rustling trees. Once they arrived, he quite enjoyed carrying Rachel from the backseat into the house, though it was a bit weird taking her down to the basement.

It was altered to resemble a bedroom rather than a prison. It was windowless with air-vents, and only Ray could open the steel door. Even if Rachel screamed for help from the front porch, they were in isolated woodland. No one would hear her.

Now Rachel appeared to be peacefully sleeping on the bed, and Ray severed the zip ties at her wrists before standing back to admire his new acquisition.

Without a specific plan to manage Rachel, Ray pondered telling the outright truth, though it could hardly serve his purpose. Ideally he'd like her to warm to him, or at least tolerate him. If it could be avoided, he didn't want to resort to rape. With a high opinion of his seduction ability, Ray considered sexual violence beneath him.

Convincing a captive to peacefully submit to sex in order to avoid making him feel uncomfortable brought a cynical smile to Ray's face, and even an urge to laugh. The prospect of forcing himself on a girl was always off-putting, and yet his desire for Rachel was ever present, channelling across his body like a tenacious, unsated hunger. But since he'd gone to the trouble and risk of capturing her, he was going to start slowly and cautiously.

If she could be coaxed into giving him a chance, Ray was confident a sexual encounter would be incredible for both of them. But there would clearly remain the elephant in the room with her being a kidnapped prisoner.

Ray considered pretending he was hired protection, paid to protect Rachel from a made-up threat. Except he'd mentioned Marcus and recklessly made his amorous intentions clear. He'd kissed her, and callously flirted. The way she recoiled when his erection became apparent to her was not very promising.

No, there was no plan. But Ray knew what he wanted. With this in mind, he bent to smell Rachel's hair and pressed a light kiss to her collarbone; a gesture of pleased victory. Smoothing long, auburn hair from her face, Ray let his fingertips trace down her soft neck to the dip of her cleavage.

After placing a tall glass of water on the spindly bedside, Ray retreated to an armchair in one corner of the room. For a while he watched Rachel sleeping, contemplating how to deal with her when she woke up. Though he wasn't a sadist, he had no qualms about getting his hands dirty, if necessary. He hoped it wouldn't come to that.

Ray could admit he was still annoyed with his infatuation. He could admit the kidnapping was probably a huge mistake. And yet, when he watched Rachel, he only felt pleased by his success. A turn of phrase came to mind; one he frequently used to answer his victims' questions and begging. Now, he could shrug and apply it to his own predicament.

It is what it is.

Settling in comfortably, he picked up a book from a side table. It wouldn't be long before Rachel woke, and he wanted to be there when she did.