SO I ALMOST MARRIED A HIT MAN

By Greg Emerson

thedistresser1963@yahoo.com

CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE

Travis reduced my bindings to the original situation of wrists taped to armrests and ankles taped together. I could breathe again.

I started a conversation.

"I met your other partner," I said, referring to the man who stopped by to check on me.

Travis's eyebrows arched. "Oh yeah…Ricky. How was he?"

"Oh, wonderful," I said, sarcastically. "We had a delightful conversation."

Travis's eyes narrowed. I rolled my eyes in response.

"Don't worry, tough guy. He did all the talking."

Travis smirked. "I'll bet. I told you I had everything taken care of. I wasn't going to leave you alone the entire time. How long did he stay?"

"Not too long," I said. "He wouldn't have stayed at all if I hadn't grunted and stopped him from leaving."

Travis tilted his head. He seemed bemused.

"You encouraged him to stay?"

"I was bored out of my mind, Travis. You guys were gone for hours. I was happy to see anyone at that point. And he didn't seem like a psycho rapist or anything."

He chuckled slightly. "Ricky is shy around girls. He barely talks to them, let alone rapes them."

"Yeah, I get that. He seemed awfully uncomfortable."

There was a silence as we exchanged soft gazes.

"Travis?" I said softly.

"Hmm?"

I shifted in my chair. "What did you guys do today? Is there anything you can tell me? Maybe something about Battey? Or where you went? What you did?"

That was a lot of questions but may as well ask them while I'm able, I thought.

Travis leaned back. "Let's see…Well, we tracked him to a location where he's likely to be holed up for awhile. I knew that would happen, once he left his house."

"You didn't think he'd leave his house?"

"Not when he did," Travis said, and we were having a real-life conversation-the kind where I get to talk, too! It was nice.

"Anything else you can tell me? Like, maybe about why he's such a bad guy and has to be killed?"

Travis shot me a look. "You keep saying 'kill.'"

I shrugged. "Isn't that your end game?"

"Not…necessarily," he said, choosing his words carefully. "It may not end that way. May not end that way at all."

"But what did he do? Why were you hired?"

Travis thought for a moment before answering me.

"Let's just say that he has an operation that ought to be stopped."

I was going to ask what that operation was, and Travis knew that, so as soon as I opened my mouth to do so, he gently but firmly reached over and put his hand over my mouth-again.

"No, I won't tell you what the operation is," he said, and I sighed.

I shook my head and freed my mouth.

"You know, it's very rude to put your hand over someone's mouth. You keep doing that to me."

"You see Miss Manners around here?"

I glared at him. "I had no idea you had such an 'asshole' gene."

I bit my lip as soon as I said it, fearing he'd gag me.

But he just smirked at me and winked.

"You'll see, soon enough, that all this was necessary," he said.

"Yeah, right," I said, highly skeptical. "Maybe you just have a thing for bondage."

He laughed. "Yeah, that's it! We're doing all this just so I have an excuse to tape you up."

I shrugged. "Hey, maybe that's the case. You don't tell me enough for me to formulate other, more educated opinions."

Just then, Brick returned with my food.

CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX

The sandwich was slightly greasy, messy, and it tasted fabulous.

And-bonus-I was allowed to feed myself!

The men surrounded me at the table-for security purposes, namely so I wouldn't scream-and watched me eat. But I didn't care who watched me-the sandwich was yummy and the fries were crunchy on the outside and soft on the inside. A fountain drink of Pepsi completed my Nirvana.

Brick said, "You'd think she never tasted corned beef before."

I looked at him above my sandwich, both hands holding it as if my life depended on it.

"I haven't-not this good and not after the day I've had," I said through a half-full mouth as I chewed.

It was the least restrained I'd been since forever, it seemed. Only my ankles were taped as I ate. The Pepsi was icy cold and was a great complement to my meal. My life was the best it'd been since before Travis turned on me-with the exception of my bath and shower.

I finished the whole damn sandwich, and I never finish anything. Ask Travis. Many were the times I'd ask him sweetly if he wouldn't mind finishing my meal.

Yeah, those were the days-when my boyfriend was a sweetie pie and he didn't do things like tape me up and put his hand over my mouth.

I leaned back and sipped Pepsi as I balled up the foil that once held a sandwich inside.

"That was good. Thank you," I said to the men.

Travis nodded. He was looking at me. I didn't like the look.

"What?" I said.

"I think you know what," he said, and I truly didn't know right away.

I leaned forward and whispered, "No, I don't. Care to tell me?"

He did so with his actions, as he grabbed the tape roll and shook it gently before me, as if it was a tambourine.

I groaned.

"My wrists?" I said, whining.

"And your mouth," he said, and I whined louder.

"Travis! Come on!" I pouted.

He just looked at me.

I looked at Brick.

"You don't think I need that, do you, Brick?"

Travis glanced at him, and Brick said, "I think you'd better do what he says."

"Oh, because YOU do?" I said, a low blow, and I knew it.

Sixty seconds later my wrists were again lashed to the armrests and an ear-to-ear strip of tape sealed my sassy mouth.

I couldn't really blame them this time; besides, it was the longest I was allowed to speak since this weekend began.

It was past 5:30 and I started to think about my job, mainly because there was nothing else to do. The men were into their TV and phones and laptops, ignoring me as usual.

Like I said, I work as a market research analyst, which as a job blows but for a salary isn't too bad. I'd only been with the company for about 10 months, but I had already received one raise.

I was paid $25 an hour to compile poll results, break them down by demographics, and write reports, among other things.

That's a cool $52,000 per year, folks. Not bad for a single girl under the age of 30.

Add that to my part-time bartender gig and yours truly was doing pretty good, financially.

But Travis clearly wasn't interested in me for my money-or for ME, as it turned out.

That aside, I had a dilemma approaching: I was supposed to have my fanny in my chair at work at 8:30 a.m. the next morning. And the way things were looking, that wasn't going to be happening.

Not only that, but there was still mom to contend with. Just because I weaseled out of Jeremy's birthday didn't mean I could fend her off forever.

This stuff rattled around in my head and I kept diverting my gaze to help keep my mind sharp and to keep from getting bored.

It was while I was looking around that I saw a photograph on the table near me that was about to change the direction of things, considerably.

CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN

I recognized the girl immediately.

Travis and Brick had been looking at papers, files, and apparently photographs, at the table while I was eating.

There was an enlarged photograph, printed on 8-1/2 x 11 paper in color, of a woman, and it seemed to be taken from behind something, because her body was partially hidden by something in the foreground.

It was outdoors, and she was in front of what looked like a shopping center or some sort of retail building.

The girl was Sasha Cohen-and I worked with her!

Well, not exactly with her. She worked in my building, I think in Human Resources.

But it was definitely she.

The photo was clearly targeting her; there was no other person's face in the shot.

My eyes widened and I looked at it again after blinking several times to bring the photo into clearer focus.

Yep, still her.

I swung my head toward Travis. He needed to know that I knew the girl in the photo. Maybe it would expedite things.

"HMMMM!!!" I yelled through the tape, to get his attention.

Travis hadn't provided me with my notepad.

He didn't look at me right away, but Brick did.

My eyes wide with urgency, I nodded my head toward Travis at the next bed.

"HMMMMM!!!!"

Brick pointed to Travis and made a questioning expression on his face.

I nodded vigorously. "MMMM!! MMMM!"

Brick got Travis's attention and said, "She wants you for something."

Travis looked at me and when he did, I bounced eagerly in the chair and tapped the balls of my feet against the carpet repeatedly.

"MMMM!!!! HMMMM!"

Confizzled, Travis scrambled from the bed and padded toward the bouncing, jiggling girl in the chair. That would be me.

"What?" he said, and he sounded a little annoyed. Tough.

I made a big show of nodding my head toward the table, where the photograph lay.

"MMMM! MMMMM!"

Travis, his eyes narrowing, looked at the table.

When he did, I bobbed my head back and forth, my target being the photograph.

He first pointed to a spreadsheet-looking thing. I sighed and shook my head no.

"NNNNN! NNN NNNGH!"

He then pointed to the correct photo.

I bounced again and nodded vigorously.

"MMMMMM!"

Travis picked up the photo and looked at it carefully.

My eyes went feverishly between the photo and Travis's face as he looked at it, trying to figure out the depth of its interest.

Ungag me, asshole!

"Something about this photo?" he said.

I rolled my eyes and nodded VERY vigorously. It was a perturbed head nod.

I jutted my jaw forward, wanting my gag removed.

Finally, Travis complied, peeling the tape from my mouth.

"I know that girl!" I cried as soon as my mouth was free.

He was taken aback. "No shit?"

"No shit. That's Sasha Cohen. She works in my building."

Travis looked at the photo then at me.

"You sure?"

I rolled my eyes. "YES! I'm 100% sure!"

He tapped the photo and said, "This is Battey's daughter!"

The next moment, we both just looked at each other, and each with the same expression that said, "You gotta be fucking kidding me."

CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT

Travis wanted to know as much as I knew about Sasha. Suddenly he didn't want me gagged so much-at least for now.

I explained that I knew her since I worked at my company-about 10 months. I said that she seemed nice enough, though I rarely interacted with her. But I do see her just about everyday, I told him, because Sasha works on my floor and she has to pass by my cubicle in order to get from the elevator to her office.

Travis wanted to know if I had any insight as to her relationships, either personal or business.

"Not at all," I said, being honest. "But she's never WITH anyone; every time I've seen her she's alone. Kind of funny for someone in HR," I said.

Travis nodded.

Then it was his turn to talk about Sasha, and why they had a photo of her.

We were having another conversation, sort of. I liked it.

"She's Battey's daughter. From what we know, she handles his business affairs-his taxes, bank accounts, etc."

"Because he's incapable?" I said softly.

He shook his head. "No-because she's his daughter. At least, that's my belief," he said.

"So why'd you guys take a picture of her?" I asked.

"He's very close to his daughter. We wanted to have a good look at her, because she typically pulls deep into her father's driveway and enters his house from the back, so we rarely get a decent look at her."

I nodded. Made sense.

"So do you know where she lives?" I asked.

"Yeah," he said, "but that does us no good. We want her on audio tape, having discussions with her father."

Again, made sense.

I could practically see the light bulb turn on above Travis's head.

"You…," he said, jabbing a finger in the air toward me.

"ME?"

"Yeah." He turned to Brick. "Hey, Brickster, get over here."

Dutifully, Brick joined us.

"She works in the same building as Battey's daughter," Travis told him.

Brick nodded. "Yeah, so I hear."

Travis waggled his eyebrows. "Maybe we could get to Battey through his daughter, who we could get to through Lauren."

I would have held my hands up, stopping this scene, but my wrists were still taped. Instead, I used my mouth, taking advantage of its ungagged-ness.

"Whoa," I said. "I told you I don't really know her, Travis! I don't think we've spoken anything beyond 'Hi, how are you.' So…don't get your hopes up, pal."

He leaned in toward me, so close that I instinctively pulled myself back in my chair.

"We've hit a snag, Lauren. This could be the break we're looking for."

I swallowed-more like gulped-and said, "But what are you going to do with Sasha?"

The men looked at each other and smirked.

"Never mind that," Travis said, which meant that I minded very much.

"Tell me," I said, trying to sound forceful.

"Sasha," Travis said, "will need to be queried about her father."

I arched an eyebrow. "Just queried?" I said. "Or something more?"

My usefulness having run out when it came to Sasha-at least for the time being, I was again gagged, sighing as the men played two-handed poker on one of the beds.

I gazed at her photograph, on the table. I wished like heck that I knew more about her than I was able to share.

Travis didn't elaborate as to how I was supposed to help Brick and him get them into contact with Sasha. I started to ask him that, and that's when he taped my mouth shut, to my consternation.

End of conversation.

I didn't get to mention the little matter of me having to be at work the next morning, either.

Travis seemed in a better mood after our discussion about Sasha. It was so good, that I had hopes that he'd let me talk and have more conversations with the men.

Apparently he has to be high on crystal meth to let me be ungagged for any length of time beyond five-to-ten minutes. It was getting old.

It was almost 6:00 now, marking the 48th hour of my captivity. I'd been taped for all but the times Travis let me bathe, just about, and I was being kept gagged almost constantly-even after the nugget about me working (sorta) with Sasha.

Travis took no chances with my mouth. He had said on Friday night that I would never be left alone without a gag in or over my mouth. He made good on that, and then some, for even in the men's presence I was often gagged.

He justified his actions by maintaining that my mouth could "ruin everything" with one scream. So he'd do his best to make sure that I couldn't produce that scream.

Frankly, had I been able, I'd have screamed. I was being kidnapped. Why wouldn't I want to scream?

But my mouth made Travis uneasy enough that even when Brick and he were right next to me, I was often times gagged. The few conversations I had with the men were always with the three of us in relatively tight quarters. I surmised that this was so they could more easily shut me up if I got loud or someone came by.

Indeed, those situations occurred and Travis was quick to put his hand over my mouth every time. My mouth posed a threat to the men; it was, truthfully, my only real weapon. And they were doing an excellent job controlling it.

A woman's mouth can be a very erotic, sensual thing. To my now-embarrassment, I proved that with Travis in our previous lives as boyfriend-girlfriend. I pleasured him orally-I'm not ashamed to admit that, though the thought of it in my current predicament was rather nauseating. We didn't have intercourse, but I engaged him orally enough times to prove my talent in that area.

He liked my voice and I knew how to talk sexy and use my sensual voice to turn him into putty.

But starting at 6:00 p.m. Friday, my mouth was no longer a sensual tool. It was a weapon that Travis felt necessary to control 24/7. For about 44 of the 48 hours of my captivity-give or take a few minutes-my mouth had been stuffed, taped or covered.

He knew how much my mouth had pleasured him as recently as last week. Yet it didn't matter. In his new role as my captor, he looked at my mouth in a different light. It was something to stop and fetter, not something to enjoy.

CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE

The men played their poker and paid me little attention. I was getting used to that, which isn't to say that I enjoyed it. Not at all. I've always been a social creature; I need human interaction more than others.

But for the past two days I was getting used to being stashed in a corner, or in a bedroom, or wherever, while the men went about their business. It's what Travis preferred, and it's what he warned me about: his mission wasn't to harm me, but to keep me out of his hair while he worked.

He was doing a damn good job of it, sticking to his original intent to a "t", and it was both impressive and frustrating.

Maybe the men would let ME play cards, too?

I knew how to play poker. It didn't seem like they were playing anything unusual or difficult to learn. They were betting loose change and small bills, from what I could tell. Their conversations were low and almost inaudible. I wondered if that was by design.

If I was going to help them get to Sasha, then why wasn't there more urgency? Why were they playing cards?

Maybe they just needed a mental break, I thought. I tried to put myself in their shoes, begrudgingly. This ordeal was a nightmare for me, but I'm sure Travis and Brick were battling their own mental and physical demons, too. They wouldn't really tell me what they were doing when they left me alone, but I know it wasn't a day at the race track.

They were probably tired and needed a mental break, too.

I wanted to play cards.

"MMMMMMMM!" I called through the tape.

The men looked at me, though not with a great amount of interest.

I nodded to their cards on the bed.

"MMMMM??"

Travis picked up on my drift right away.

He chuckled. "You wanna play cards?"

I nodded eagerly, my eyes twinkling.

The men looked at each other and shrugged.

To my glee, they picked up their cards and joined me at the table.

Travis sat down and said, "This isn't a trick just to get us to untape you, is it?"

I shook my head innocently.

He reached over and sliced my hands free.

I moved my hands toward my mouth, to peel my gag off, but Travis lowered them forcefully.

I gave him a confused look.

"Hmmmm?"

He smiled devilishly. "You don't need your mouth to play."

I sighed and gave him an exasperated look.

"HMMMMM???"

"You really don't," Travis said. "If you want cards, you hold up fingers equal to the amount of cards you want to exchange. If you want to hold, you just slide your hand from left to right, palm down."

He demonstrated. I rolled my eyes.

"If you want to call, just motion with your head and grunt or something."

I narrowed my eyes at him. This was NOT what I had in mind.

"The bet will be obvious, because it's whatever you place on the table. I'll start you off with this," he said, plunking a bunch of change and some dollar bills in front of me.

I didn't feel like playing so much anymore.

I gave Travis a sad look, pointed to my gag and mewed softly.

Brick came to my defense.

"You think she's going to scream?"

I arched my eyebrows at Travis as if to say, "Good point."

Travis said, "Frankly, she might."

I slumped and mewed again, trying to look pathetic and adorable.

When Travis looked at me, I added a tiny wave with my right hand, fingers together, bending them slightly at the second knuckle.

I tilted my head and batted my eyelashes. I really poured it on thick.

Finally, his wide mouth spread into a grin, in spite of himself.

CHAPTER SIXTY

We played Five Card Draw.

My ankles were still taped, but my hands and mouth were free. Travis finally acquiesced to letting me be ungagged, but with the usual warning not to abuse the privilege.

I didn't. I kept my verbal activity to a minimum-basically all my talking was related to the game at hand. I resisted the urge to ask about Sasha and Battey, or anything else germane to the men's mission.

I sat between the men-again for security purposes, no doubt.

We had played for about an hour, incredibly. It was fun. I was surprised that the game of cards could actually take my mind off the fact that I had been kidnapped, even with my taped ankles as a reminder. But the more I got into the game, the less attention I paid to my feet.

I won some, lost some. Typical card-playing luck. A few times my stash got low, but I was able to win some hands and build it back up again.

The men called the game off at around 7:30 p.m. I was disappointed, but understood.

Brick put the cards back into their box and I said to the men, "Thanks for the game. I needed that diversion."

Brick grinned and Travis nodded.

"No problem," Travis said. "I didn't know you liked to play."

"You never asked," I said, smirking.

"There's a lot about me you still don't know, Travis," I said, tossing my head to move hair from my eyes. "We still had a lot to get to know about each other."

He pursed his lips and nodded. "Yeah…I suppose we did."

"We did," I said, purposefully.

I dared to ask about Sasha. I had to take advantage of the times I was ungagged, because those times were so few and far apart.

"I have to work tomorrow, Travis. How am I going to help you guys get to Sasha?"

Travis cleared his throat and said, "First of all, you are most certainly NOT going to work tomorrow."

I started to protest, but Travis held his hand up.

"Let me finish."

I sighed and slumped back into my chair, my arms folded across my chest. I arched a brow.

"You're calling in sick," he said flatly. "As far as Sasha, I'm still thinking about that one."

"You're not going to hurt her, are you?"

The men exchanged brief glances that made me uneasy. But Travis shook his head.

"I don't see why the young lady should be harmed."

"That's not exactly a flat denial," I said, pointedly.

"There's no such animal in this business, Lauren. Things happen sometimes."

I decided not to press the matter further; it was only going to make me more upset and probably, more confused.

Travis was checking my phone. He was sitting to my right, at the table.

Brick had gone out to "get some air."

My wrists were again taped to the armrests. My mouth was taped shut.

It was just past 8:00.

"Holly called again," Travis said.

I made a worried look by furrowing my eyebrows and shaking my head gently.

I wanted to be able to call her, or else she'd get suspicious and/or REALLY worried.

"Mmmmm??" I said.

Travis looked at me. "Maybe you should call her," he said, and I nodded vigorously in agreement.

"You know the drill," he said. "Short and sweet."

I nodded.

Travis pulled the tape from my face, but not all the way-just enough so it flapped open, still stuck to my left cheek, indicating that my ungagged time would be very brief.

He dialed Holly.

Holly, the sweetie, was worried about me. I told her that I'd been drifting in and out of sleep all day, and that I had placed my phone on vibrate and missed a bunch of calls, not just hers.

I amazed myself at how good of a liar I was becoming, thanks to this ordeal.

First I fooled my own mother, now I was throwing Holly off the scent. I was deliberately ensuring that my rescue wouldn't be forthcoming.

But I had no choice, obviously. Travis was making his hostage be her own red herring.

I almost choked up when my brief conversation with Holly came to an end. Would I ever speak to her again? When?

And, of course, I knew that when I hung up with her, another possible rescuer would be crossed off the list.