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Don't Let Me Down

Prologue

-oOo-

(Lyrics courtesy of The Chainsmokers)

Crashing, hit a wall
Right now I need a miracle
Hurry up now, I need a miracle
Stranded, reaching out
I call your name but you're not around
I say your name but you're not around

I need you, I need you, I need you right now

-oOo-

(Stephanie POV)

The world twisted at odd angles, colors blurring together in a sickening array of red and gray. Black spots danced in front of my vision and I swallowed thickly as my stomach valiantly tried to reject whatever I'd last eaten. I think it was donuts.

I sucked in cold air and hissed as a sharp pain shot through my chest. My hands were bound with a thick rope that dug into my wrists as I dangled from a large meat hook, my bare toes barely scraping the cold concrete ground. I couldn't see out of my left eye and I was pretty sure that I had at least one broken rib. My entire body was one giant pulse point of agony, made worse by my constant shivering. I realized that I must have been in some kind of industrial meat cooler. The air was frigid and a large motor hummed loudly somewhere behind me. I had no idea how long I'd been dangling her but the terror that had begun to creep over me was like nothing I've ever experienced. Tugging experimentally on my bindings I gasped in pain as the movement jostled my damaged ribs and pulled already sore shoulders at an unnatural angle. Shit.

My name is Stephanie Plum. I'm a bond enforcement agent, which is just a fancy name for a bounty hunter. I suck at my job but by some really divine luck I've always managed to get my man. I've been shot, shot at, kidnapped, dragged through garbage, attacked by street gangs and insane boxers…I was used to this shit. This time however…this was different. I couldn't put my finger on it, but something about this particular skip felt off. It had been too easy to find him, almost like he'd been waiting for me.

My FTA was supposed to be a run of the mill car thief, a few priors for drunken disorderly, hijacking and resisting arrest. Mostly non-violent, simple enough. Apparently, that only scratched the surface of one, Marcus Slotchmire. Underneath his petty crime façade was a truly terrifying predator that enjoyed raping, mutilating and murdering women. He had no traceable MO so his string of gruesome murders hadn't been connected to a single suspect, leaving him free to rampage across the east coast undetected. He was the definition of evil genius, creating new and inventive ways to torture and kill his victims before leaving their bodies for local authorities to puzzle over. He'd been operating in Jersey for just over a year now and had taken 5 other victims, not including me.

How did I know all this?

The bastard had bragged about it. He'd shown me before and after pictures of his victims, delighting in the way it made me squirm. They had been beautiful young women in an array of ages and ethnicities. The candid before shots showed them smiling and full of life; talking with friends, sipping coffee, eating dinner… The after pictures showed them much like I was now; bloodied, beaten and bruised, hanging like slaughtered animals from the very same meat hook that I now dangled. Their once shinning eyes were full of fear and the haunting knowledge that this was the end. I couldn't hold back my tears any longer and I cried openly for myself and for the vibrant lives that had been snuffed out too soon.

Slotchmire had left some time ago, giggling to himself in psychotic glee as he went to prepare whatever horrors he had planned for me. Dread settled over me as I realized that there was no one coming to rescue me this time. Joe had been gone on some hush hush secret undercover job for the last six months and had no idea I'd even been hunting Slotchmire. And Ranger...even if he'd realized I was missing he had no way to track me. Slotchmire has stripped me of all my belongings before bringing me here, including most of my clothing, leaving me dangling in the cold in my skivvies. If I made it out of this alive I was going to let Ranger put one of those subcutaneous trackers anywhere he damn well pleased.

I let my thoughts turn to the man in black and I felt my heart sink. I was going to die here and I would never be able to thank him for everything he'd done for me. I would never be able to tell him how much I loved him. "Please Ranger," I croaked out loud, "please find me." I was crying harder now, hot tears leaving tracks over my chilled skin. Consciousness was becoming harder and harder to maintain the longer I was suspended in the cold and I began to wonder if maybe God was taking pity on me and I would freeze to death before Slotchmire returned. That wouldn't be such a bad way to go in comparison to the brutal torture he no doubt had in mind. Yeah, freezing was ok.

I was jolted back into awareness when the door to my prison slid open, the joyful giggles of my captor echoing eerily all around me.

"It's time to play now. He said I could play with you!" He cackled maniacally, slinking across the room towards me. I tried to twist away from him, crying out as the movement sent ripples of pain down my arms and across my ribcage again. I realized belated that both my shoulders were dislocated. My futile efforts to get away from him only seemed to excite him more and he began to trace his fingers across my skin much like a lover would. The unwanted caress left me feeling violated and sick. And who was 'he'? There was something not right about this whole situation but damned if I could figure out what.

In another life Marcus Slotchmire might have been attractive. He was tall with broad shoulders, dark hair and blue-gray eyes; not a bad combination. Too bad he was fucking insane.

He continued his explorations with one had while flipping open a large switch blade with the other. The metal glinted in the dim lighting and in a series of quick motions he'd cut away the thin fabric that had been preserving the last vestiges of my dignity. His gin grew wider as his eyes raked greedily over my exposed flesh. "Delicious." He said, pleased with his find.

I choked on another sob as the wicked blade replaced his fingers, pressing just hard enough to create tiny cuts and pricks in tender flesh. As little tendrils of blood began to trickle from my wounds he leaned closer, running his tongue across the lacerations and lapping up my blood like a vampire. I grit my teeth and squeezed my eyes shut, trying to will away the world.

Then, as quickly as he'd begun, he stopped, cocking head to one side and listening intently for some sound only he could hear. After a moment his lips thinned into a flat line and he gave me a dirty look, gray eyes flashing dangerously before wedging the knife firmly in my right thigh. I screamed, sagging against my ropes and whimpered. Blood flowed openly from the stab wound and began to pool at my feet. The world swam in front of me and the feeling of nausea returned in full force.

"They want to take my toy away too early!" Slotchmire snarled, yanking the knife back out of my thigh and stalking away from my haggard, naked form. Before he'd gone more than a few steps the freezer door was thrown open with enough force to leave a dent in the joining wall, an imposing figure hovering at the entrance.

"He said I could play with her!" Marcus yelled, waving his knife around wildly.

My dubious rescuer gave no response, instead a single gunshot fired and Slotchmire wheeled around to face me once more, his mouth gaping like a fish as scarlet bloomed across his chest, staining his gray sweater. And then he fell, eyes glazed and unseeing as his heart beat its last.

I sagged in relief and my rescuer was at my side in an instant, moving faster than I'd thought possible. He unhooked my hands, sinking to the floor with me and slicing away my bindings. He shrugged out of his heavy jacket to wrap me in its warmth. "You rescued me…" I murmured softly. But as I slipped into unconsciousness an unsettling thought struck me. Who was this man and how did he find me?

TBC…