Voyeur Ch. 07

Thanks for your continued support, Rumpole and readers :)

Hope you enjoy this one.

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~I write for pleasure, I post for joy~

******

Ben was sweating so much he worried Rachel's hand might slip from his own.

"What's wrong?" she asked curiously, glancing at his unusually pallid face.

"Nothing," Ben answered, his heartbeat accelerating as they reached their destination. "This is it," he said heavily, and knocked on the dark-oak door.

"But, Ben, what is it?" Rachel pried, then finally paid attention to the store they'd paused by. It was charmingly boutique, with nothing displayed in the tinted front windows to show any purpose.

A short, spectacled man promptly opened the door and peered up at Ben's height. "Mr Carter?"

"Yes," Ben confirmed, and ushered Rachel ahead of him as the man stepped back to allow their entry.

"About five minutes to arrange everything. Please wait here."

"Sure," Ben's voice broke, and Rachel giggled at him.

"What is this place?" she asked, carefully extracting her hand from his painfully strong grip and looking around the posh waiting area.

"It's a surprise. Give me a minute, Rae," Ben sounded almost imploring, and Rachel began to feel anxious for him.

But as much as she plied him with questions, Ben stoically refused to answer. When the storeman returned and gestured for them to follow, Ben didn't look at Rachel, but could feel her incredulously watching him.

"Are you feeling sick, or something?" she nervously whispered, as they followed in the man's wake. "This doesn't seem like the kind of surprise that..."

Rachel trailed off as they reached a private room. The man winked at her and discreetly closed the door, leaving them alone.

"Wow!" she gasped.

The room was tastefully filled with roses, but not so many to make the intimate area claustrophobic. There was a table laden with food, a bottle of champagne elegantly balanced on ice, and two freshly poured glasses.

"Oh, Ben!" Rachel gushed. "This is..." Turning to face nothing but air, her eyes widened as she realised Ben had dropped to one knee.

"Oh," she said, shocked.

"I had a great speech planned, and I can't remember a fucking word of it," Ben grimaced. "But I'm sure I can't live without you. I know I love you more than I'll love any woman, and that it's forever." With shaking hands, he pulled a black-velvet case from his pocket and flipped the lid.

Rachel's jaw dropped at the sparkling ring.

"W-Will you marry me?" Ben proposed; his dark eyes unusually desperate. "Please, Rae. Don't make me beg, because I'll go there."

Rachel's stunned face broke into a huge smile, and Ben's heart flipped. Happily nodding, she allowed Ben to slip the diamond across her finger. Back on his feet, Ben paused to admire her flushed face, the adorable yet sexy yellow sun-dress adorning her figure. After twirling her around, Ben tugged her into his embrace.

"Does this mean you love me, after all?" He murmured against her neck, wondering if he pushed his luck.

Rachel laughed tearfully. "Of course, stupid. I'm sorry I never said it before. I love you, Ben!"

"I thought...But you've said it now, that's all that matters," he breathed, pressing a hard kiss to her temple. "Say it again, just in case?"

"Ben?"

Ben's arms were suddenly empty, and he stared in a daze as Rachel took a seat at the table. Dread prickled up his spine.

"Ben? You're not going to join me?" Rachel sipped the champagne, still beaming at him.

"It's fine. It's going to be alright," Ben muttered to himself.

But his feet felt heavier than lead, the terrible feeling persisted, and instead of taking the seat opposite, Ben fell to his knees and urgently pulled Rachel into his arms. Merrily shaking her head against his shoulder, Rachel comfortably wrapped her arms about his neck.

"What's wrong?"

"Don't go!" he groaned.

Ben woke from his dream, back to a bleak reality where his entire life had unexpectedly shattered before it really began.

"It's going to be alright," he whispered, but there was nothing in his voice to credit his words.

Then Ben's tired mind recalled his next piece of cheer. He had to go to the station and answer questions about Rachel. Again.

*******

Rachel stirred. Opening her eyes to clouded vision, slowly the blurred shapes began to take sharper form.

"Uhh-" she croaked, trying to clear her throat.

Rustling movement caught her attention, and she peered across the room to a dimly lit corner. Vaguely, she made out the figure of a man watching her.

"B-Ben?" she moaned, gingerly feeling her bruised neck. "What happened? Where are we?"

"Ben isn't here. I'm sorry."

"Huh?" Rachel squinted. "Who are you?"

The voice spoke with an emotionless, matter-of-fact certainty. Like one practiced in delivering bad news with clinical profession. But the setting resembled nothing of a hospital environment.

The room spun, and Rachel briskly sat up as she remembered. "Oh, my God! You! You attacked me-!"

"Calm down," the man interrupted, casually placing a book onto a side table. "Calm down, Rachel. It is very important that you stay calm."

Rachel took deep breaths, but the panic still simmered. "Why? What do you want?"

"If you become hysterical, I will be forced to subdue you. Neither of us want that."

"What do you want?"

"Ask me something else."

"Are you going to kill me?"

"No." Not if I can help it.

"Are you going to hurt me?"

"No." Maybe.

Rachel tentatively touched her bruised throat, where he'd snuffed her screams during the abduction. Ray's mouth pursed to a thin line as he accepted the silent point she made.

"If you hadn't tried to scream, I wouldn't have choked you. I didn't want to do it," he said frankly. "Do you understand what I mean about panicking?"

Rachel slowly nodded. "If I don't cooperate, you'll hurt me?"

"Incidentally, yes."

"Why won't you tell me why you've done this?"

Ray sighed. "Rachel-"

"But it doesn't make sense!" she softly reasoned. "I know you, but I don't know you? And you helped me with Marcus-?"

"Look." Ray stood but paused when Rachel shrank back into the bed, intimidated by his height. His strength, she already knew.

"We've established that I don't want to hurt you," he said curtly. "Just be satisfied with that, ok?"

"W-Why did you kiss me?"

"Are you hungry?" he asked, disregarding her confronting question; a question with an answer he didn't understand.

"I feel sick."

"I don't blame you. Water will help, so drink up. You'll be very hungry soon. You can join me, or I'll come back with food and something for your sore throat."

"Why have you done this?"

Ray sighed impatiently. "Rachel, I didn't bring you here to hurt you." Unless you count rape.

"Then why am I here?"

"I'll fix dinner," Ray said with finality, turning his back before she could ask more questions.

Ascending the stairs, he deliberately left the steel door ajar, presenting Rachel with a chance to make the first move. Though conscious of his desires, Ray still didn't feel comfortable forcing himself on a vulnerable girl. But if Rachel attacked him, or tried to run, all bets would be off. She would be fair game to his advances. But for now, he would play the courting game.

Rachel nervously drank the glass of water one sip at a time for two reasons -- she was suspicious it was poisoned, and her throat really was sore. Though her mind ran riot with all kinds of horrible ideas of what was in store, she eventually pulled herself together and reviewed the facts.

The man was clearly dangerous and capable of violence. He was also very strong, and twice her size. She had no idea where she was. There was no question that she was in his power.

Fortunately, he didn't express any particular animosity toward her, so this probably wasn't personal. But that didn't really alleviate the seriousness of her circumstances. Raking a hand through her disorderly auburn hair, Rachel looked around.

The room seemed quite welcoming, with a small en suite. There were no windows. The walls were a cheerful pale oak, only offset by the foreboding steel door, which the man had left ajar.

A small bookcase was beside a cosy armchair in one corner of the room, where the man was sitting when she woke up. The bed itself was soft and comfortable. At first guess, it would seem she was a well-kept prisoner. But why?

A discomfited blush crept through her cheeks when she remembered his kiss, his banter, and his promise to treat her better. She remembered the very large erection poking her when she was trapped in his arms. Right now, he seemed all business, but those undeniable facts spelled trouble.

Rachel slowly got out of bed and stretched her sore limbs. Slightly staggering with an unusual physical weakness, she wondered how long she'd been knocked out.

After careful consideration, Rachel decided there was no point cowering in the room, if he didn't mind her wandering about. The mysterious man himself raised enough questions in her mind to create a pounding headache. He was athletic, attractive and clearly charismatic when he chose to be. There was no reason for him to target her. The whole situation was confusing, and there was only one way to get answers.

Blowing out a deep, shaky breath, Rachel gently eased the solid steel door wide and peeked out. As her gaze adjusted to the dark, she made out a wooden staircase.

There was a bright light at the top clearly coming from a kitchen. Warmth, and the sounds of cooking emitted from the doorway. As the scent of food wafted her way, Rachel's stomach rumbled. Quietly reaching the top of the stairs, she hovered anxiously in the doorway and stared at Ray's broad back as he stirred things on a large stovetop.

With a better opportunity to check him out, Rachel noted he had changed out of the black 'kidnapper' attire and was more civilly dressed in a loose black t-shirt and navy jeans. And he was cheerfully whistling.

Holding her breath, Rachel licked her lips nervously and sighted a large kitchen knife on the bench to her right. Could she stab the guy to death? What if he didn't die? Or what if he did?

Both outcomes seemed as horrific as each other. Opting for the coward's route, Rachel dejectedly sidled over to an ivory kitchen bench and sat on one of the stools. There was no point fighting now. The man wasn't an immediate threat, so he would have her believe. She was also exhausted and starving.

Disappointed, Ray quietly cursed under his breath. A part of him wanted her to take a shot, though another side of him was relieved she hadn't tried to stab him in the back. As much as he wanted to get physical, he didn't want things to turn ugly. And he was ever-conscious of the fact that once events took that route, there was no going back.

Ray remembered Rachel showed a little sass when she slugged him with the frypan, but the hit was more cute than threatening. Perhaps he should have left a saucepan in place of the knife.

"How's your neck?" he asked pleasantly. Turning, he smiled at Rachel's shock that he was always aware of her presence.

"It's ok," she flinched, immediately dropping her gaze from his intent stare.

"I'm sorry." He tilted his head, considering her. "Do you mind if I apply something to it?"

"I don't know."

"It might be a little sore at first. But it'll make it better."

"I'd rather not," Rachel said uncomfortably. He'd half strangled her, tied her up and carried her out of Ben's apartment. Now, he was being downright friendly, and it was unnerving.

"Come on." He was suddenly by her side, taking her hand and leading her into an adjoining lounge room.

With a light push from him, Rachel flopped onto a lengthy, brown leather couch. The man went to a small cupboard and extracted a container. Then he was beside her, moving close as she edged away from him.

"Don't be silly," Ray tutted, his eyes warm as he wrapped an arm about her shoulders to draw her closer.

Rachel had no choice but to crane her neck to distance herself. This way, the sore part of her throat was conveniently exposed to him.

"Please, at least tell me-?" she winced, but stopped as his hand lightly brushed her hair back, his fingertips lingered on her skin.

"Relax," he said.

Rachel shut her eyes and felt something wet and chilly soothe the bruising. They were practically entwined, and Rachel kept her eyes closed whilst he continued an unwelcomely intimate ministration. But they flew open when something warm replaced the cool, and not on the sore area. The unmistakable feel of lips on her flesh.

"Don't! Please!" Rachel pleaded, feverishly wriggling as he gently kissed her neck. The way he shifted, his hand inching up her waist toward her breast, was very threatening. "Please, don't! Just leave me alone!"

Sighing as though she was a spoilsport, the man abruptly released her and returned to the kitchen.

From the other room, Rachel had a clear view of him as he focused on the stove. Curled up on the couch, she bit her lip and fought not to cry. She wanted to know why he was doing this. She wanted to go home. She wanted Ben. Would he find her in time?

"By the way," the stranger called to her. "My name is Ray."

Tired tears finally dripped down Rachel's cheeks. "Ray, please, at least tell me-"

"No. Enough," he impatiently cut her off.

But when Ray turned, his eyes were warm and there was a smile on his face. Circumstances aside, he looked disarmingly attractive. "Come on, Rachel. Don't cry. I know it's weird, but I want this to work." He jerked his head, inviting her over. "Help me make sauce."

Rachel unsteadily stood from the couch and forced her feet to step toward her abductor. It was weird standing next to a complete stranger in such an intimate environment. Despite his easy manner, she felt his tension, and wondered if he was nervous or angry with her. Little could she know her assumptions were very off track, but it was probably better that way.

Dinner was awkward, but Ray expected it. From what he'd witnessed so far, he knew it would be difficult for her, especially in those circumstances. But she was clearly ravenous as he predicted and managed to eat everything he put before her. Though she avoided eye-contact, she was politely responsive to his small-talk, and he only caught her staring longingly toward the exiting doorway twice.

Despite his sexual frustration, Ray was impressed she managed to withhold hysterics, and didn't make any more moves on her. After escorting her downstairs and locking the steel door, Ray congratulated himself on his resilience, and wondered what the next day would bring.

*********

"Let him in." Brian hung up the phone at the same time Marcus burst into his office.

"Brian! You have to help me! I-"

"If you're not here to apologise, you can get out," Brian said bluntly, crossing his arms.

Just like the time Marcus showed up covered in garbage, Brian was surprised to see Marcus bordered on an unusual hysteria.

Thankfully his charge was dressed in designer-wear, minus last time's rotten-food addition. But his light-brown hair was dishevelled, his forehead and temples shone with sweat, and his dark green eyes were wide with something other than petulant anger.

"What the hell happened this time?" Brian frowned, sitting up in his chair.

Though fed up, he'd known Marcus since he was in diapers, and was discreetly monitoring him to ensure he stayed out of trouble. Clearly his surveillance failed, because Marcus obviously managed to find trouble anyway.

"It's Rachel!" Marcus gasped, clutching his side as his stich burned anew. Not one for patience or prudence, he'd obviously run up the stairs, rather than wait for the elevator.

Brian was on his feet. "Jesus Christ, what did you do?" he bellowed. "Leave the damn girl alone!"

"I did!" Marcus whined in a half-truth. "But...she's gone!"

Brian relaxed. "Good. Now go see a shrink."

"No...It's..." Marcus hesitated, suddenly looking guilty. "She's actually missing."

Sudden chills reverberated up Brian's arms. "Marcus," he said quietly. "What did you do?"

"Nothing! That's my point! Rachel's missing. I know because the police came-"

"What? When? Why didn't you call me?"

"I couldn't have done it. I wasn't anywhere near her. And you told me to go away!" Marcus said accusingly. "And now-"

"Answer me, and don't lie. Did you have anything to do with-?"

"No!" Marcus vehemently shook his head, but his eyes still shone with frightened guilt. "But...something happened."

Afraid he might have a stroke, Brian sat down. "Tell me everything, and hurry."

Marcus thankfully took the opposite seat. "I was wasted. And I was mad. And I went into this place, and I thought-"

"This isn't a diary entry, kid," Brian snarled, shaking with anger and impatience. "Sum it up!"

"I might have hired some guy to...to...spy on her."

The anger left Brian's face and his expression turned to stone. "To spy on Rachel? Nothing else?"

"Just to watch her, the way you did," Marcus vigorously nodded. "But he never-"

"Have you paid him?"

"No! No, I haven't!" Marcus triumphantly declared, the triumph fading as Brian turned ash-grey.

"You hired a stranger to watch Rachel and he didn't want money?" Brian slowly clarified.

"So?" Marcus said defensively, alarmed by the look on Brian's face. "So? So, what?"

"Did you give him her information?"

"Yeah."

"That's bad. That's really bad," Brian muttered, more to himself than Marcus. "Who is he? What does he look like?"

Marcus bit his lip. "I didn't get a name. I don't remember, I was trashed. But I know he's a big dude. Like, strong. He attacked me when I...err..." Shamefaced, Marcus recounted the incident with Rachel at the café.

Brian leaned forward, and Marcus recoiled from a horrible anger he'd never seen in Brian.

"You sent some fucking nameless weirdo to stalk a defenceless girl?" Brian snarled, the pen in his fist snapped under his thumb's pressure. "Do you understand how fucked up that is?"

"I didn't know! He seemed ok..." Marcus mumbled, but jumped when Brian's palm slammed the desk between them.

"A stranger seemed ok to you? Marcus, you know the fact he didn't want money is a bad thing, right?" Not believing what he'd just heard, Brian took a deep breath and let loose.

"How fucking stupid can you be!" he exploded, again standing from the desk. "How could you commit such insanity and wait until...?" Brian shut his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"If he didn't take payment, he's not accountable! Those types do fucked up shit just for kicks. And you handed a girl like Rachel on a platter to...!" Brian paused, choking on panic. "For him to expose himself like that, he's probably fixated... Fuck, he's probably an ex-military nut! Do you know what that means, Marcus? How could you do that to her?"

"I only told him to watch her!"

"And we know he followed that brief, don't we?" Brian roared.

While Marcus fidgeted uncomfortably, Brian's eyes darted about the room as he did some quick thinking. "Tell me the area you found him. The day, and a rough timeframe. I'll trawl surrounding surveillance, and at least get a face. If this guy has anything to do with her disappearance, she must be found, very quickly." If she's not already dead.

"Ok, what do I do?"

"When you've picked him out, you're done. Leave this with me."

"Should we go to the police?"

"Absolutely not."

"But...But, Rachel-?"

"If she's really missing out of the blue, and it's not the new boyfriend, you're the very reason she's in danger. You can only make it worse."