SO I ALMOST MARRIED A HIT MAN
By Greg Emerson
thedistresser1963@yahoo.com
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Travis returned from the room and climbed into the van while Brick stood guard.
He looked down at me, made a "tsk" sound, and reached for the roll of tape.
"She needs to be gagged better than that," Travis said, scolding Brick.
I groaned.
Travis added two overlapping strips of tape over my mouth, pressing down firmly and really kneading it so that it adhered to every pore of my skin.
He was good at gagging me, I had to admit. I had no idea he was so talented.
Satisfied that my mouth was sufficiently muffled, Travis called for Brick. The two of them slid me out of the van-Brick had my ankles and Travis did the armpit thing again.
Then they moved me toward the waiting door.
This was my chance-I bucked and squirmed and screamed for all I was worth.
There could be people around, I thought, so I tried to give them a show.
It didn't matter one lick. They had me inside that room within 10 seconds. Travis kicked the door shut behind him. So much for being seen-or heard.
The light was turned on and the men carried me to one of the Queen beds, gently plopping me down on it.
"MMMM!" I screamed, just to vent.
Then it was several minutes of the men loading stuff into the room, from the van-equipment mostly. But then I recognized one of my pieces of luggage, which Travis carried.
Upon seeing it, I scooched to a sitting position.
I motioned with my head to the luggage.
"MMMM. Imm amm iym?"
Translated: Is that mine?
Travis looked at me, then looked at what I was gazing at.
"Oh, the suitcase?"
I nodded enthusiastically. "MMMM."
"Yeah, that's yours. I packed some things for you-extra clothes, toiletries, you know."
My eyes softened in wonderment and appreciation.
"Mmmm," I said, "Annh eww ohr eween ann."
Thank you for doing that.
The equipment stayed in their cases, however. Apparently they didn't need it right away.
I remained on the bed, sitting up, watching the men. I even forgot that I had to pee.
But then I remembered.
Squeezing my thighs together, I said to no one in particular, "MMMM! AMMRUM."
Brick recognized that gagged word from before.
"She has to pee," he said.
I nodded vigorously. "EMMMM."
Travis said, "OK, but the gag stays on."
I rolled my eyes. Of course!
Heaven forbid I not be gagged for more than 15 minutes.
The whole day-a day that began rudely at 6:30 a.m.-had passed and now we were well into the evening and my fears had been realized: Travis kept me gagged almost constantly.
That meant that, for the past 30 hours, I'd been gagged virtually non-stop, with precious few exceptions.
Conversations were fleeting. I was never able to talk long enough to barter for myself or to gain Travis's trust. Last night, I didn't really think that Travis would keep me gagged all day and night, but I was turning out to be wrong.
And now that we were in a motel room, with thin walls, I'd probably be gagged even more. The thought put a shiver up my back.
I was cut loose, and I did my business. The room was your typical motel (it was a Motel 6, by the way) but at least it appeared to be clean. I washed my hands and looked at myself, the silver duct tape covering most of the lower half of my face below the nose.
I sighed and shook my head. How could this be happening to me? How could I have been dating a man for two months and he turn out to be something from a men's novel?
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
It was just past 10:00 and I was in one of the motel room's hardback chairs, wrists taped to the armrests, ankles taped together. Gagged, of course.
The men were making hushed phone calls and sometimes they'd step outside the room, apparently when sensitive stuff had to be discussed. They'd sometimes huddle out of my earshot and talk.
Very rude.
I wondered what the hell Earl Battey was up to that was worth all of this to stop.
What had he done that made kidnapping me a worthwhile risk?
Most women, they say, get kidnapped or assaulted by someone they know. It's rarely a bogeyman hiding in the bushes that gets us.
I was, at this moment, most women.
The men carried on like that for about 30 minutes-plotting, whispering, moving about frenetically.
I could only sit and watch and wonder.
Finally, past 10:30, they settled down. Brick was on one of the beds, channel surfing. Travis was sitting at the table across from me, writing a lot on his legal pad.
I sighed. Loudly-trying to get someone's attention.
The men were good at ignoring me and that was VERY annoying.
Travis didn't even look up from his legal pad as he said, "Hmmmm?"
I rolled my eyes, not that he could see; he was too busy with his precious pad.
I wanted to have a conversation. I knew that was unlikely, but I wanted to know what was going on. It seemed a reasonable request.
I tried talking.
"Wumm imm oween ewwm amman ehnn?"
What is going to happen next?
Travis looked up at me.
"Huh?"
I rolled my eyes.
I repeated, "Wumm imm oween ewwm amman ehnn?"
Travis shrugged and gave me an "I can't understand you, lady," look.
I stomped my feet in frustration.
Converse with me, you oaf!
I sighed and looked around. I imagined that, in the very next room, were normal people-people who might help me, if they knew my predicament.
Hence the thick layers of tape over my mouth.
I gave up keeping my thoughts to myself. I just said what I was thinking, regardless that it was totally unintelligible.
"Iymm annh eheem imm im ammeneen eww emm."
I can't believe this is happening to me, I tried to say.
Travis looked at me, then back at his pad.
I tapped my toes impatiently into the carpet. I gripped the armrests with my fingers, tightly.
"MMMM!!" I cried, frustrated.
Travis sighed and put his legal pad aside.
"You really think that I'm going to take the gag off at night, when sound carries easier, surrounded by thinly insulated drywall?"
A girl could hope, couldn't she?
But his words bit through me. I was to remain gagged all night?
I gave Travis a sad look.
"Mmmmmm?" I said, trying to be pitiful.
"No," he said flatly.
I threw my head back, stomped my feet, and grunted in frustration.
Then I sobbed.
CHAPTER FORTY
I nodded off. I must have, because when I opened my eyes it was nearly midnight, according to the clock radio on the nightstand, which I could see.
Travis wasn't at the table any longer. I looked over my shoulder to see the men watching TV quietly, each sitting on a bed.
Apparently the pursuit of Earl Battey could be put on hold for the night. Maybe they traced him with the GPS to a location close enough to the motel to be satisfactory, for now.
My chair was mostly facing the wall opposite of the beds, which meant that when I stared straight ahead, I got a big serving of off-white blankness.
In order to see the men, I had to crane my neck about 120 degrees. Again, rude. They at least could have turned me so I was facing them. Even if I wasn't allowed to converse, I wouldn't have felt ostracized, as I did currently.
I wanted my chair turned.
"MMMM! Errnn emm!"
Turn me!
No response from the men, so I repeated, louder-but I couldn't do it any louder than that because the gag was very good.
"You have to pee again?" Travis said. He was sitting up, his legs straight, fingers laced behind his head.
I shook my head-not easy to do when you're also craning it.
"ERRRNN EMM!"
Travis looked at Brick. "You know what she's saying?"
Brick shrugged, clueless.
Jesus, ASSHOLE, I thought, take the tape off for TWO SECONDS and I'll tell you, you dumbfuck!
Maybe it was a good thing that I was gagged, after all.
Nah.
I stomped my feet, pulled at my wrist tapes, and shook my head and torso back and forth, totally frustrated and manic.
I threw my head back and yelled, "HMMMM!"
Travis shushed me, frowning.
I growled at him.
Finally, I gave up. These men-Travis, especially-were both thick-headed and headstrong, not a good combo for yours truly.
I sighed and hanged my head, slowly shaking it in disbelief that this was happening to me.
Fifteen minutes passed. Travis had opened my laptop and was sitting on his bed, pounding away on the keyboard. Probably posting more phony Facebook statuses for me, to make my friends think I was still under the weather.
Or answering my e-mails, which he had been doing all day posing as me, too, another way to throw my friends off the path and keep them away from me.
He had told me earlier in the day that he turned my phone on and there were two voice mails-one from my fellow bartender, Mike, at work (nothing important), and one from Holly, checking up on me.
I thought wistfully of the spare cell phone that was now stuffed under my pillow at home, totally useless to me now. The phone on which I was one digit away from dialing 911.
Then it hit me, like a ton of bricks as I thought of all this stuff.
Jeremy's birthday!!
My little brother was turning 19 tomorrow.
It wasn't going to be a bash, like his 18th, but mom was having us over for dinner and cake and ice cream. In fact, I had promised to bring a green bean casserole.
She expected us over at 2:00 tomorrow afternoon.
I was going to spend today grocery shopping, birthday shopping, and making the casserole ahead of time, so it could simply be reheated on Sunday. That's why I took the night off from the bar, figuring I'd be too tired to fix drinks on a Saturday night after all the shopping, cooking, etc.
Obviously, I did none of that, thanks to Travis.
And it didn't look like I was going to be showing up at mom's house tomorrow, either.
I couldn't just not show up, of course. Assuming Travis wasn't going to allow me to attend-that was a virtual certainty-mom would need to be contacted with the bad news.
An e-mail wouldn't suffice; that would only be good enough to confirm stuff, not to cancel.
I'd have to be allowed to speak to her by phone. It was the only way she'd accept my not showing up to my own brother's birthday dinner.
My dad would be cool with it, because he was so laid back and casual. But mom would need an explanation beyond "Something suddenly came up."
Poor mom and dad. They had no idea that, at this moment, their daughter had been kidnapped by her boyfriend and was now taped to a chair in a motel room up north, gagged.
And they could never find out, not yet, because the implications would be awful.
I thought of excuses for why I couldn't make it to Jeremy's dinner.
Well, Travis had been telling my Facebook friends (posing as me) that I was feeling ill. So may as well keep that lie consistent when I talked to mom.
But the $64,000 question was, Would Travis let me talk to my mom?
Actually, there was a question even before that one.
Would he ever let me talk, period, so that I could explain the situation?
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
Travis put the laptop away. Brick was dozing, watching TV.
I had to let Travis know about Jeremy's birthday.
I craned my neck to look at him.
"MMMMMM!" I said with urgency.
He glanced at me and arched his eyebrows.
"Yes?"
I rolled my eyes-as if I could tell him what was on my mind!
I bounced anxiously in the chair to indicate urgency and shook my head back and forth gently.
"MMM! HMM! MMMM!"
Travis sighed; Brick stirred and looked at me, the source of all the humming.
"You have to pee again?"
I shook my head no.
"NNNGH NNNGH"
Travis grabbed the motel note pad, its pen, and trudged toward me.
Even I was impressed by his industry.
He placed the pad under my right wrist, leaving me room to write, and slipped the pen into my right hand.
It was maddening in its efficiency and attention to detail.
This way, he could be told what was on my mind, and he didn't have to ungag me, which he clearly didn't want to do unless absolutely necessary.
I sighed, disappointed that he came up with this new method of communication-because it was yet another reason to leave me gagged.
But I put that aside and wrote, "Jeremy's birthday party!!!!!"
He read it and it clicked, because he had been invited, too.
He frowned.
"Well, you're obviously not going," he said.
I rolled my eyes and grunted indignantly. No shit, Sherlock!
I wrote, "I have to call mom and tell her!!"
He read it and frowned again. "Mmmm. I don't know."
I said, "MMMM!" and wrote, "I have to!!! She'll be suspicious!!!"
He looked at me.
I tilted my head, giving him an innocent look.
"Pwmmm?" I said, and it was supposed to be "Please?"
He sighed. A man of his work knew that as many "t"s should be crossed and "i"s dotted as possible.
So he agreed, though I could tell he wasn't crazy about it.
"OK, I'll let you call her tomorrow morning. What are you going to say?"
I wrote, "Sick."
He nodded.
"Yeah, that's what I've been saying on your Facebook."
I rolled my eyes and nodded. "MMMM."
Travis said, "Needless to say, if you give any clue that you're in trouble, it won't be a good idea."
He said it with such purpose and conviction that it made my blood run cold for a moment. This was SO not the man I had been dating!
I swallowed and nodded, genuinely frightened. I would never do anything to place my family in harm's way.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
Well, that was that. I conveyed to Travis my concern, he responded, and we came up with a plan.
All with the gag never leaving my mouth. That was the bad part.
Even worse, Travis liked the notepad thing and left it under my wrist, tying the pen to the armrest with his shoelace, not unlike what he had done with my wee-wee bell.
"If you want me to read something, grunt and pound your hand on the armrest," he said after we settled the matter of Jeremy's birthday.
The notepad thing was a great system-if you were in Travis's shoes.
But for me, all it meant was that my chances of ever being ungagged in this motel room were dwindling.
Travis had a system whereby I could communicate with him without me talking.
Every man's dream, part three.
I sadly nodded my head at his instructions regarding the notepad and pen.
A tear moistened my eye. This was so sad and pathetic. Our relationship was just blossoming. Stimulating conversation was at the crux of it. Now I had been reduced to scribbling notes and grunting in order to communicate with him.
The saddest part was that he was content with this-perfectly. He could keep me gagged and not miss out on anything.
I, on the other hand, was screwed.
It was pushing midnight and I was getting sleepy. The long day had finally caught up to me.
But I still didn't feel like I could sleep in the chair. And the men were taking up the beds. Very rude, as usual.
They had no idea of how to treat a woman. Chivalry was dead with these guys.
I stewed, upset that neither man showed enough kindness to offer me a bed while they shared the other. They just kept on watching their stupid sports on TV, ignoring me and making no move to see whether I might like to catch some sleep.
I hated them, practically.
I would stare straight ahead, boiling mad, then sharply crane my head and stare daggers at them. Neither man paid me any attention.
I sighed, fuming.
Didn't these men have mothers? Sisters? Even female war criminals, I thought, must have gotten more accommodations than I was getting from these doofuses.
Finally, I rocked in the chair, grunting loudly.
Travis looked over and said, "Bathroom?"
Why was everything I did supposed to mean I had to pee?
I sighed heavily and shook my head, no-NOT bathroom.
"MMMMMM!"
I forgot my notepad; Travis reminded me.
"Write it down," he said, and I rolled my eyes.
I wrote, "SLEEPY!!" and pounded my hand on the armrest, as instructed.
He ambled over and read.
I looked up at him, cranky. My eyes bore into him, as a warning that if he suggested I sleep in the chair, I'd throw a fit and pierce his peace and quiet.
I could see his gears turning. He was thinking, If I let her have a bed, then I have to share with Brick (!) or sleep on the floor.
I would have smirked, had it not been for the tape tightly applied over my mouth.
He said, "OK. I get it. You want a bed. Fine."
I nodded and sighed, relieved that he capitulated.
"Brick can have one and we can have the other."
WHAT???!!!
My eyes flew open and I shot him a look of mortification.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
I shook my head violently, humming "IMMMM-IMMMM" over and over.
No way, Buster!
"Lauren, it's a Queen bed. We won't come close to touching each other."
I just kept shaking my head.
"IMMM-IMMM!"
If he thought I was going to share a bed with him, he was out of his fucking mind.
"Well, I'm not sleeping on the Goddamn floor, and neither is Brick," Travis said, irritated. "And he and I are NOT sharing a bed."
I shot him a look. I thought they were Queen beds?
"Yummm ewwmm immm ermm immm! Immm errmm ummm nngh unnn, enn imm riirrrm unngh immm. MMMM!"
I gave him an earful, none of it understandable.
Travis sighed.
"Take it or leave it," he said.
Unacceptable.
I balled my hands into fists, jerked in the chair, and literally tried to lunge at him, as illogical as that was.
"MMMM! MMMMMMMM"
He stepped back.
I was enraged. How dare he put a rider on my bed privileges!
He actually thought I wouldn't mind sharing a bed with him, after what he did to me?
What a jerk!
I was getting louder, and it was late, and that was making Travis nervous.
I didn't care about any ramifications. I was tired, cranky, scared, frustrated, angry, hurt, you name it. It'd been a long day and a half under Travis's control, and the whole sleeping arrangement thing was the last straw.
So I kept making my loud humming sounds and thrashing in the chair. I must admit, it felt good to "vent", in the only way that I was allowed.
By now, Brick had awoken and was furrowing his brow in confusion over the scene that was being played out before him-me thrashing and yelling through the tape, Travis circling me, like prey.
"What the hell?" Brick said, trying to rub sleep from his eyes.
"She doesn't like the sleeping arrangements," Travis said, keeping a firm eye on me.
I rolled my eyes and looked at Brick, my chest heaving and hair all over my face, thanks to my shaking back and forth.
"MMMMM!!!!"
Travis said, "Don't make me break out the chloroform again, Lauren."
At that, my eyes widened and I again tried lunging at him.
"HMMMMMMM!!!"
Maybe I could make friends with the folks in the next room.
"HMMMMMMM!!!! HMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMmmmmmmmm!"
My humming got abruptly and considerably quieter because Travis had worked his way behind me and clamped his big hand over my taped mouth and pressed firmly.
"Shut up! Listen to me!" he said, gripping my mouth like his life depended on it.
My eyes widened and I stopped humming; the grab of my mouth had taken me by surprise and his grip was hurting.
"Just LISTEN," Travis hissed into my ear.
My chest heaved and I whimpered a bit; he was hurting me.
I made eye contact with Brick, who quickly averted his gaze and looked at Travis.
"How about a compromise?" Travis said.
I fought back tears and considered what he had just said, allowing it to register before I slowly and warily nodded.
"OK. You gonna be a good girl?"
Oooh...I HATED that patronizing remark, but this was no time to take a stand. So I nodded to placate him.
"How about if I take one bed and you share the other with Brick? He's the only one not your ex-boyfriend in this room," Travis said, and you couldn't argue with that statement of fact, I suppose.
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
Just because Brick wasn't Travis, didn't necessarily mean that I wanted to share a bed with him, either.
I caught Brick's reaction when Travis suggested the "compromise," and it was borderline embarrassed, in my opinion. Travis really put him in an awkward position, more so than even me, really.
Travis relaxed his grip, but still had his hand clamped over my gagged mouth, pressing the tape against my skin even more.
I considered the suggestion. I was tired and wanted the path of least resistance at this point. My tantrum took a lot out of me. I slumped slightly.
Brick hadn't hurt me, like Travis had. And Brick had at least shown a modicum of kindness during my ordeal-a lot more than Travis, who was my boyfriend less than 48 hours ago.
I nodded, sighing and relaxing my body, trying to show that I wanted a cease fire.
Travis's hand came away from my mouth, thank goodness.
"Great. So we have an agreement? You share the bed with Brick?"
I nodded, almost too eagerly for my liking.
Travis grabbed my suitcase and opened it up. He rummaged for a moment, then pulled out some nightwear items of clothing.
He held up a nightie, one of my black ones-the kind that came down to upper thigh only.
I rolled my eyes at him. Seriously, dude?
Travis smirked and held up a soft cotton nightgown-white with pink flowers and that one went past my knees slightly. It had a scoop neck and exposed some cleavage, but it wasn't insufferable.
I nodded my approval at that selection.
He approached me and sliced me free at wrists and ankles.
I immediately rubbed my chafed wrists and rotated my ankles, scrunching my toes in the process. I tossed my head back and closed my eyes, enjoying my freedom.
"You can change now. Gag stays, and you have five minutes."
He tossed me the nightgown. I rolled my eyes and headed for the bathroom.
I peed, washed my hands, and looked at myself once again in the mirror. I was a girl who needed a good night's rest-let's leave it at that.
I changed into the gown, which felt lovely against my skin. It was cool and it breathed and it was nice and soft. I felt feminine again.
I stepped out of the bathroom and looked at Travis.
I held my hands up near my ears and twirled for him.
"Hmmm?" I asked.
He smirked and nodded.
Brick had already positioned himself on one side of his bed. He was over-compensating and was giving me 2/3 of the bed. It was kinda cute and sweet.
I strode to the bed, pulled back the covers, and slid in. I moaned in ecstasy.
"Wait," Travis said. "Don't cover up. I have to secure you first."
I groaned. "Mmmmmm?" I said, trying to sound put out.
Travis pulled the covers off me and placed my ankles together.
I sighed as he went to work on me.
When Travis was finished-ankles taped, wrists taped in front, attached to ankles (the usual)-he recovered me with the sheet and blanket.
I purred.
Sleep wasn't going to be elusive tonight, I thought.
I glanced over at Brick, to my right, who had turned away from me, facing the wall. So all I saw was his massive back, sheathed in a tight black t-shirt.
I turned on my side, facing away from Brick.
Travis turned out the lights.
It felt wonderful to be on the bed, even if I was taped up.
Sleep, as I suspected, came almost as soon as my head hit the pillow.