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A few seconds after the silence, the lights in the house began falling, one by one, until only a small light from an upstairs window remained. Though he'd done it in the past, he wasn't going to break in with her at home. Not only did it greatly increase the chances of being caught and then subsequently resulting in a rushed job, he didn't trust himself around her, not after seeing her sylph-like show on the beach an hour ago.
He returned to his car and decided to begin his Intel recon. He pulled out his laptop and fired it up. Before long, he was connected to several local governmental databases, pulling information to aid in his operation. Lachlan quickly awoke at the sound of a car door slamming. She started her car and backed out, heading for the Geek Hut, the local computer technology and service office she worked at.
Getting out, Lachlan moved through the trees and made his way to the back door. It was a simple lock to pick, and he was inside quickly. Her kitchen smelled of oatmeal and bacon, something he wasn't expecting. He slowly, but efficiently made his way through her house, taking note of items revealing style, personality, and history.
He saw that she was romantic in nature, even sensual by the soft coloring, layered textures, and small decadent finds, like the cashmere throw or sumptuous drapes. But she was also tidy and clutter-free. She preferred books to television, as one long wall was completely covered in books, floor to ceiling, but a small TV lied hidden away behind closed cabinet doors. A well-used copy Bone Voyage bookmarked sat on the small side table next to the overstuffed loveseat.
He eased himself up the stairs to the second floor. The guest room was small and perfunctory. A bathroom off to the left still held her lingering scent. The sweet and heady aroma washed over him as he stepped in to examine her cosmetics. Subtle pallet, minimalistic tools. He opened her body wash and the intense warm vanilla scent blew into his nostrils. He felt himself stir at the sensual memories the distinctive smell called forth.
Slowly he entered her bedroom, and stood. Her large comfortable bed remained unmade, which surprised him. Her black nightgown was strewn across the foot of the bed. He walked to the large wardrobe and opened the doors, revealing a set of drawers. He began methodically opening them, running his hands through the silk and satin he found inside. Pointless he chided himself. Find something of value and get the fuck out.
He thoroughly searched her house and found nothing, no file, no computer...Shit. She probably took her computer with her. What would even be on it? He was scanning the kitchen again when he saw a door he surprisingly passed over his first time through. He had thought it was a pantry, but could clearly tell now it was a door to another room. He opened it and saw stairs leading down to a dark basement. He found a switch and flipped it as he descended. It was large, spanning under the entire house. Support beams ran across the ceiling and one vertical beam stood in the middle of the room. She had a treadmill angled in front of a wall mounted TV at one end. In the middle against the wall, stood her washer and dryer. A storage rack with various cleaning supplies stood next to them. He noted a basket with whites sitting on top of the washer. The far end was empty. He stood, slowly scanning, quickly thinking. If he couldn't find hard evidence about what she knew, he was going to have to extract it. He was fast deciding he didn't like where this was headed.
Lachlan left the house, leaving the door unlocked behind him. He raced to the docks and ascended the stairs at one of the boathouses. The large, vacant quarters had served as his home the past three years. He packed a duffle to last him a few days and grabbed his shovel, a pick, rope, tape, and various other items he knew he would want at hand. It was roughly 9:30 when he returned back to her house. Carrying his black bag down to the basement, he began working, preparing his make-shift torture chamber for his soon-to-be captive.
Grace spent the day holed up in her office at the geek compound trying to keep her mind focused on the invoices and accounts. Given the fireworks of the town meeting the night before, she was reluctant to talk to anybody, despite the fact it was her duty as one of their councilmembers. She was satisfactorily productive until her mother called. Her parents were giving their end-of-the-summer party at the family estate in Greenwich. "Sweetheart, you cannot put your life on hold any longer. You need to go back to school. Your grandfather, if he truly loved you, wouldn't want you to stay in that small little town wasting away."
"Mom, I'm not having this discussion with you. I am perfectly content living here in Maine with grandpa. This is where he wants to live. He's lived here all his life."
"Then let him live there. You come back to New York."
"Mom, I'm sorry to break it to you, but I am happy here. I like it here. Yes, you're right. I need to go to law school, but grandpa can't live by himself a hundred percent of the time. He needs someone close to help him out."
"Then we put him in a home. They have very nice retirement villages here in Connecticut. They're called assisted living facilities."
"I'm sure they are fine, but they're not what he wants. He can live in his own home until he dies, he just can't do it all by himself."
"It isn't your responsibility."
"Mom! One day you are going to be old, despite any plastic surgery you may have in the mean time. And when that time comes, who do you want to look out for you? Where do you want to live? You may be partly right. It shouldn't be my responsibility, but seeing as how his own son and daughter-in-law won't live up to their obligations, it falls to me. I'm not forcing him to move when he doesn't have to. Now, please, let's stop arguing about this, because it isn't going to make me change my mind. It will only serve to make me reconsider what I will be willing to do for you when the time comes." She huffed and sat in silence, waiting for her mother to relent, but she didn't say anything further.
"You know what, Mom, I've really gotta go. I'll call you sometime this weekend. Bye."
"Goodbye, Grace, please consider what I said." Before she could respond, her mother hung up. She let out a large sigh and settled back, pinching her nose. She had an enjoyable time with her grandpa during lunch. She finished with a determined push through the afternoon, resolving all her back-logged paperwork. She had plans to meet Paige at Sweet Mama's Café & Bistro at six.
The bistro was busy that evening. Thankfully she was able to get a table outside in the smallish courtyard. She was looking at her watch when her phone beeped. Paige sent her a text briefly stating she was sick and wouldn't make it. She frowned, picking up the menu, flipped it over, and sat it back down. Maybe she should just go home.
"Hey, don't I know you?"
The warm, deep voice interrupted her plan making. Pleasure ran through her body as she took in the 6'1" muscular guy with short wavy hair. She didn't know him immediately, but as she studied him, he began to look more and more familiar; she just wasn't sure where she'd seen him. Given how small Davenport was, it was actually more surprising that she didn't know him.
He was looking at her as if he too were trying to place her face. "I know; I saw you at Small's Iron bar one night. You were with a red head."
She frowned. She had only gone to the bar once or twice, and that was several months ago. But as she thought of the dark place, its sounds, smells and sights slowly emerged. From somewhere, her subconscious pulled his eyes and nose, and mouth into light. His mouth. As she looked at it, she had the strangest sensation that she had a memory of what they felt like. She gave him an uncertain look. "Did we...talk?"
"Yes, though you did most of it. You don't remember?" he chuckled.
"Vaguely," she said cautiously. "I think I had more than my allowed limit that night."
"As I remember. Don't worry, your secrets are safe with me."
Her eye brows shot up at that. "And what secrets are those?"
"Well, if you don't remember, perhaps I shouldn't say anything." He grinned teasingly. "Eating alone?"
She nodded, realizing he had a to-go sack in his hand. "My friend just texted. She's sick so...it looks like it's just me. And you?"
"Same," he said, leaving the air full and heavy.
She paused, but only for a second. "Well, if you don't have any other plans, would you care to join me?"
"Well," he seemed to linger considering it. "I think that sounds perfect." He sat opposite her at the little round table. "This evening couldn't go better if I planned it."
She smiled at his easy honesty, though not realizing how honest he was truly being. She ordered one of the large, gourmet salads full of raspberries, chicken, blu cheese, nuts, and a whole lot of other things. He politely waited until her food arrived and then they began eating.
"Have you lived in Davenport long?" he began the conversation.
"Only about two years. My grandpa lives here, has all his life. He's getting older and needs someone to look in on him occasionally. I used to visit my grandparents a ton, so I've spent a great part of my life here. So...since he needs minimal help, I decided it would be best if I moved up here."
"So, where are you from?"
"Well, that's rather tricky. We have a house in New York and one in Greenwich. But, of course, those are my parents' houses, not really mine so... My mom is anxious for me to return. There were these big plans for me to follow in my father's footsteps and go to Yale, but...some things take precedence over others."
"That sounds like a big sacrifice."
She chuckled. "You sound like my mom. No, it's fine. It's great actually. I love Davenport, I have a degree, and I have a job that pays bills. Besides, it's family. Do anything for family, right?" she smiled charmingly as she took a monstrous bite of her salad. He watched hungrily, as she licked the dressing from her full lips. Anything for family? He wasn't so sure.
"So, sounds like you came from money, huh? Finding it hard to adjust to commoner life?"
She laughed. "You make it sound as though I'm a spoiled, incompetent princess. No, I like it. I have my own cottage, wash my own dishes, do my own laundry."
"The ironing, too? Gotta confess, laundry's pretty hot. Nothing sexier than a woman willing to do your laundry."
She blushed. "Really? I guess I never really thought about it." After swallowing her food and allowing the blush to settle, she began her own inquiries. "What about you? What do you do?"
"Oh, this and that. Actually," he said, becoming a little more intense, "I have a fairly select, specialized set of skills that are employable by only a small percent of the population."
"Select, specialized set of skills?" she giggled. "Say that five times fast. What sort of skills?"
He sighed, "Nothing you would be familiar with."
"That's sort of a cagey answer, isn't it? Fine, no specifics of the select, specialized set of skills. Then tell me, how long have you lived in Davenport? Besides the night I can barely recall, I don't know that I've seen you around."
"Only about three years. I'm in town working with my uncle."
"Oh? He employs your select, specialized skills does he?"
"Not until today."
She smiled, waiting for an elaboration, but received none. She chuckled, rolling her eyes away as she took a sip of her wine. Lachlan sat back, trying to relax enough to innocently flirt with Grace. His plan was coming off smoothly enough. While working in her basement, he called her office during lunch, knowing she would be away. The young guy that answered the phone was easy enough to get her after-hour's plan from. He immediately rushed out and bought a box of chocolates. Dosing the chocolates with chemical laxative using a syringe, he gave them to the florist to deliver with the roses at exactly 5:15 to Paige Glass in the bank. He had calculated the onset of symptoms to begin only after it was too late to keep Grace from the café where he would intercept her.
The food came to an end, but she seemed content to sit and talk with him. But knowing the long weekend that lay before them, he pushed himself to end the dinner. With quiet disappointment, Grace got up and left the table. He mentioned he was parked around back, as was she. He kept the conversation up, keeping her connection to him as long as possible. When they got to the lot, he spoke up. "You know, those cookies looked really good. I think my uncle might like one. I'm gonna go back. It was nice meeting you, again, Grace. Bye." He portrayed just the right amount of reluctance to leave her, before turning and walking back to the café.
When he came back five minutes later, she was sitting on the hood of her car. "Really?" she sounded disappointed. "Okay, so what time do you open in the morning? Okay, can you come and haul it to your garage then? Yeah, that's fine. Okay. Then I'll see you then. Okay, thanks, bye."
"What's up?"
"Oh, my car won't start," she sighed.
"No? Here, let me take a look." He reached out for her to hand him the keys.
She smiled, "What? You don't think I know how to start a car?"
"Well, the sound it makes when it won't start tells you a lot about the potential cause. Here, let's look." He sat in her seat and cranked the engine. It gave a grinding sound, but no ignition. "Hmm, sounds like spark plugs."
"Well, now that I know it might be spark plugs, I've gotta find a ride home."
"How about your grandfather?"
"That's one of the reasons I'm here; he doesn't drive anymore. The whole town thanks us," she said wirily. She flipped open her phone and thumbed through her contacts. She hit one and waited for an answer. "Damn, he didn't pick up. Well, Paige is too sick..." she was still searching through her list when he finally broke the slightly awkward silence.
"Well, if you need me to, I don't mind taking you home. Is it far?"
"No, it's at the edge of town, just north. Five minutes," she said hopefully, trying to not make it sound too far to drive but not so close that she could walk.
"Okay, get in." He pointed to his Land Cruiser.
"Let me grab my files." She pulled a large box from her trunk. He opened the back door and she slid it in. "You don't even lock the doors?"
"Why would I? Who'd steal this old thing?" he smiled, pulling open the door and sliding in. He feigned ignorance of the way to her home, allowing her to direct him. He continued the banter, keeping the interaction going. When he pulled up into her drive, he hopped out so he could grab her box before she did.
"Oh, thank you," she said when she saw her box in his arms. "One would think I could leave work at work, but..."she sighed and inserted her key. After opening her door she turned to take it from him. "Thanks again, and thanks for the ride."
"My pleasure, you just extended a very enjoyable evening."
She blushed, biting her lip. They stood staring for a moment as she fought a plausible reason to invite him in. "Hey listen, if you have nothing better to do, why don't you come in? I could give you a slice of chocolate cake or a glass of wine, you know, as a thank you for driving me home."
He nodded. "Thanks, that sounds perfect." She led him in, setting her box on the rocking chair as she passed through the living room.
"Well, come on in," she led him through to the kitchen. "Pull up a chair, I'll get the wine." She brought out two glasses and the headiest wine she could find. The sound of the cork popping out and the wine gushing into the glass was all that filled the quiet room. There was an awkward silence as they took their first sips. Suddenly, she brightened. "Oh, I promised you cake, didn't I? Well, you are in luck," she turned to set down her glass and remove the cake lid.
"Oh, damn," she heard him quietly say. She turned to see him stalled as he looked down at his crisp white shirt, the deep purple spreading slowly.
"Oh, no! What happened?" She brought over a rag. He dabbed at it some as he stood. "Oh, Lachlan, I don't think that's going to come out. Here, take it off, I can put it in the wash quickly."
"No, I don't want you to go to the trouble."
"It's no trouble; I even think I have a load of whites to put in."
"No, really, I don't know, you doing my laundry?"
She flushed, recalling his words. Sexy, huh? "Please, just take it off. Don't be such a big baby. Otherwise, you've lost this very nice shirt. Come on," she was practically tugging at it.
"Alright, alright," he chuckled, and did as she bid. He unbuttoned it and tried not to look at her with too much obvious lust. He could see her heated cheeks as she reached out for it. Instantly, the heat of her cheeks flashed through him, darkening his pupils, awakening his huger. Her shyness triggered his predatory nature. She turned and headed for the door to the basement. He stayed behind her, never leaving her orbit.
Through his intense military training, he had learned to temper his emotions and keep his thoughts in check. Such discipline was needed to survive imminent death situations. Despite the emotions an event might cause, one needed to always keep the logical side of their brain in control. But, once that feral side was released, there was no caging it until it ravaged everything within its grasp. He would break her. It would be the only way to keep her. If she didn't give in eventually, he would be forced to silence her permanently. His hungry side pushed such thoughts away, only focusing on the immediacy of what was to come.
"I think the spot will come out, we just need to treat it a little," she said lightly, sensing a shift in him. "I think the best thing for a wine stain is..." her voice faded as she noticed chains with leather manacles hanging from the rafter in the middle of the room. He came to stand next to her, looking at her with a devilish smile, soaking up her puzzlement and lightning fast fear. She gave a small start, and then her eyes darted to the enormous pile of dark soil at the very far wall. She quickly noticed there were other things added to her basement though she was momentarily too confused to understand what they were.
Grace's body fell back slightly, as if wanting to leave before her mind made the decision. Instantly, his arm was around her shoulders. She jumped and looked up at him, her face marred with fear-filled questions. "I hope you don't mind, Gracie, but I stopped by earlier and made some...improvements. I want your honest opinion on them, but you'll have to try them out first." He felt her body begin shivering as he spoke. Her eyes were wide; she stood frozen.
What? What did he say? What? He did this? He came by earlier? What does that mean? What is he going to do? Run! Run! Run! The heavy steel wheels of her brain began rolling, slipping at first, but the building pressure pushed them around faster and faster until a blinding scream filled her brain.
"Relax, kitten, relax. Shh," he murmured. "Don't start fighting. Trust me, you're gonna want that strength for later. Shh, shh, relax." Holding her arms criss-crossed tightly over her chest, his mouth fell in her hair near her ear. His hot breath scorched her sensitive skin there. He felt her shudder as her panicked thrashing lessened. "That's right, kitten, just relax, and you'll do just fine."
