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Not Going There

Chapter 21

BPOV

I awoke to a stabbing pain behind my eyes, bursts of white light caused me to shift too quickly. Dizzy, I pressed my forehead against a hard surface to try and stave off the sudden threat of nausea. The churning feeling became too much, though, and I leaned over to release the contents of my stomach. Not that there was much there—my appetite had been decidedly lacking the past few days, and I'd only eaten a light breakfast of toast and tea this morning.

Tears gathered in my eyes—my natural reaction to vomiting, and I flopped backward onto my bed. A whisper of footsteps, a cold cloth pressed against my lips; I smiled, thinking that Edward was taking care of me, and tried to open my eyes again but the light was still too bright. It was way too much effort, so I left them shut. The sound of something brushing away my mess reached my ears, all opaque and strange.

I frowned, then, thinking that something wasn't right. When I started to raise my hands to wipe away the bleariness in my eyes, I found they wouldn't move. For that matter, my feet felt like they were stuck together, too, like my limbs were welded to my body, rendered unusable.

The jarring feeling of only moments before turned into confusion. I struggled against the heavy weight of my eyelids for a few minutes, opening and closing them until the glare of light wasn't painful. Finally, finally, as the fuzziness still lingering in my brain abated in fits and stalls, I took in my surroundings from my awkward position on the bed.

The room was sparse…very rustic and simple. I seemed to be laying on one of the only pieces of furniture in the room: a twin sized bed outfitted with coarse sheets and a threadbare blanket. The source of light was a bare-bulbed lamp, shade lost to who-knew-where, that sat atop a small table. A chair was at an odd angle next to the bed, like it'd been pushed back in haste and not righted yet.

Still, though, all I could see was one side of the room, and this was definitely not my room—hell, it was most definitely not anywhere I'd ever been in my life. The last things I remembered slowly made their way back into my brain: the truck; the alternator; talking to Edward; and…Riley.

What the hell was happening? As much as I hated to admit I had been wrong, that the weird happenings of the past few months hadn't been James or random occurrences. My thoughts went to Katie, my dad, and Edward. God, I hoped they were okay; that this odd run of violence had only extended to me.

A door slammed, a lock clicked, and, not wanting to vomit again, I turned my body slowly to greet my…visitor. But I was alone in the room, and clearly he'd been here just a second ago, watching me but not in my line of vision.

A chill crept up my spine, panic rising along with it, and I choked back the bile that threatened to make a reappearance. I didn't need to dehydrate any further; already my lips felt chapped and my throat was sore. On the plus side, save for the tight bite of the zip ties around my ankles, I was in no pain at all. Just fuzzy, and with the previous night's—No, I didn't really know it was the night before, did I? The sickening smell that had warned me just before I'd blacked out had probably been some form of ether or chloroform, which explained the extreme grogginess I was feeling now.

The gravity of the situation settled on me like a blanket of snow. At the same time, rage rose inside of me, swift and vicious. There was no time to be scared or feel sorry for myself—I had to figure this out.

Now.

I heard him on the other side of the door again. Keeping my eyes closed as he entered the room, I prepared to get as much information as I could.

Footsteps fell lightly on the bare floor. "Hey." A light shake of my shoulder—my skin crawled at the touch. "Bella, you need some water."

I cracked open an eye to see him bending over me with a Nalgene water bottle in his hand. It took a moment to find my voice. My throat was still burning from the acid, but I needed the moisture.

"Just water?" I asked with a rasp in my voice, not trusting him at all.

He looked at me with consternation on his face. "There's nothing in here besides water," he said sharply.

Yeah, 'cause the question was totally out of left field. Why should I be frightened of my kidnapper?

Still, I nodded my head slightly, and he put the straw to my lips. After a few sips, he pulled it away and moved to the corner of the room. I turned my eyes to the ceiling and could tell he was watching me. The edge of the window caught my attention, and, even through the thick blanket covered the panes of glass, I could tell it was dark outside. So, nighttime or early morning, but that still didn't help me gauge how long I'd been knocked out. With it being December, the nights were already long as it stood.

Eventually I looked in his direction. His head was in his hands, feet moving in a silent rhythm—all signs of agitation. I didn't speak, though, only waited for my limbs to lose the pins and needles sensation and my brain to re-situate itself to a more normal state.

We sat like that for the better part of an hour.

"I need to pee."

His head snapped up and he stared at me for a few moments. Obviously, he hadn't been prepared for that. He stood up and left the room. locking it behind him. I cursed under my breath, wondering if he was going to leave me to my own devices, but he returned shortly with a bucket. Wordlessly he set the bucket on the floor near the bed, and then looked at me.

"Keep your hands at your waist and don't move," he instructed.

Carefully he unwrapped the blanket, taking care to stay out of reach of my hands. Stupid. If he wanted me completely immobile, he should have bound my hands behind my back. I simply stared at him. Surely he didn't think I was going to relieve myself with him present? My bladder was full, but I'd rather eat nails than do that.

When I was free of the blanket he stepped away quickly and retreated to the door.

"I'll be back in a few minutes."

Relieved that I wasn't being subjected to humiliation—well, at least not yet—I propped myself into a sitting position, my head still slightly woozy from the chemical he'd used to knock me out. Definitely ether—the slight odor of it lingered on my clothes, in my hair, and I recognized the scent now—and maybe something else. The thought terrified me, had me holding my bound hands over my stomach in a protective gesture. If he'd hurt my baby…

Somehow, through the cloud of worry and anger, I managed to get my pants down and went about my business.

At least he left me alone.

The protective mothering instinct yelled at me to run, now, get out however I could and try to find safety. But the cop side of me insisted I stay put and listen to him for the time being. I didn't have enough information to try an escape and didn't know if he was armed or not.

That rationale won out. Reason told me he hadn't…touched me yet, that my body would let me know if it had been subjected to any harm or unwanted actions, and now that I was awake, I could fight him off if he tried anything. It'd be awkward, especially with the limited range of motion, but I'd taken down a three-hundred pound man in worse circumstances.

He didn't realize he was dealing with a pissed off, trained law enforcement officer, who had also just found out she was pregnant. He didn't understand the fury he'd awakened.

Once I was finished, I thought about looking around the room, out the windows to gain a better perspective of my surroundings, but I could hear him right outside the door, so I shuffled over to the bed and scooted myself against the wall to get a better vantage point.

He returned, silent, twitchy, and I watched him remove the bucket. Anger rose like a hissing snake, and I wanted to strike out like a cobra would: swift and deadly.

You son-of-a-bitch.

My first instinct was to come at him swinging, but I knew, logically, that there was too much at stake to play it that way. I needed to get out of this alive. All of this emotion would get me nowhere. I knew I needed to play the game in the way he expected me to; it'd be the only way I could figure out what he had planned.

Not looking at me, voice void of emotion, he asked, "Are you hungry?"

"No."

"Do you want more water?"

"No."

Clearly he expected gratitude for the offering, but he wasn't going to get it. Calm? Yes, I could do that. I needed to. Accommodating? He could go fuck himself.

So, I sat silent against the wall, looking away, legs folded to the side. His sulkiness was evident, and I wondered in what twisted version of this situation he'd imagined me as thankful that he'd kidnapped me. How fucking dare he take me away from my family?

Before too long, he got up and walked out of the room.

Good.

O=^=O

The slivers of light from the window shifted slowly underneath the thick covering, and I watched as night turned to day. My eyes wandered around the dully lit room repeatedly, searching for anything that would help me out. As much as I wanted to get up, to explore more fully, I didn't want him to hear me moving.

I could hear him, though. He'd been silent for the longest time, but now he was moving. He didn't return or poke his head in at me, but I heard him walking around the outer room. He was restless, muttering to himself and banging about, and I added to the growing list of things in my head that he was probably dangerous right now. Things weren't going to plan, and that made me wary.

It also forced me into action.

As quietly as I could, I placed my feet on the floor and scooted toward the edge of the bed. A slight creak from iron frame made me still my movements. I could hear him moving about in the outer room, but the fading of his footsteps left me feeling safe for the moment. Sliding to the corner of the bed, I grabbed the edge to pull myself up.

The window was directly in front of me now, and, reaching for the Pendleton style blanket, I peeled back the slightest bit where it hadn't been stapled to the frame.

In the silvery light of dawn, I saw woods.

It gave me hope that we were still on the peninsula. Somewhere I knew and could navigate if necessary. Hearing his footsteps move down the hall, I squatted back down to the bed and my rear end nearly slid off of the side in my haste to get seated. The lock on the door turned loudly.

He entered the room again and approached me with the water bottle, still not looking me in the eye. Coward. I gritted my teeth and held back the expletives that nested under my tongue like a pit of vipers. He crouched down, held out the bottle, and still said nothing.

I couldn't hold my tongue any longer.

"What is this about, Riley?"

His eyes shot to me and I could see the muscles working in his jaw, nostrils flaring. I could see him trying to work out his answer, and it irritated me.

"I wanted to talk to you," he said at last, and I huffed.

"Talk to me? By abducting me? A phone call would have sufficed."

He stood up abruptly and walked to the window, checking that the blanket on the left side was fully covering the panes.

"Are you going to answer me?"

He turned, fury flashing in his eyes. "You are in no position to ask questions."

Like that would stop me. During the time I'd been awake and locked inside the room, details had began to resurface, things I hadn't paid correct attention when I was cold and wet, and stranded on the side of the road. How the wire in my truck had been hanging on by a thread; how I'd thought it had loosened and now understood it had been purposeful.

"Have you been following me?"

He ignored me and paced the room for what was surely the seventeenth time. I shifted on the bed, situating myself into a position that could combat a sudden attack.

"I wouldn't call it following."

"Then what the hell would you call it?"

"Observing."

I didn't understand the qualification. There were so many factors that made no sense. We'd had one date, and it really wasn't one to write home about. Of course, sometimes it only took once for an unnatural attachment to form in situations involving a stalker.

The random run-ins with him came to mind now. The store, when his words had seemed so strange. I couldn't believe I hadn't picked up on it then, and tried to remember what had been going on in my life at that point.

I needed to keep him talking, though. "Why?"

"You don't get it?"

"Get what?"

He threw up his hands. "You've been missing the single most important thing that could have changed your life. Ever since college—"

I sat back, confused. "What do you mean 'since college'?"

He looked at me like I was the crazy one here."At WSU? We had a lot of classes together freshman year. How could you not remember that?"

The lead weight in my stomach felt heavier. "You've…you've been following me since then?"

"I started running because of you. I was with you at all of the events. I just figured it'd be a matter of time...But then you met James…"

My mind was spinning college, Pullman…

"Wait, you've been following me around for a decade?"

"I said, 'observing'. I was just waiting for the right time. At first, it wasn't all of the time. I dated but it was only to pass the time until I knew you were free. I had one girlfriend who reminded me so much of you, that I felt fortunate I could have struck gold twice in my life. She left me and moved away, too," he said, his voice trailing off.

"But I never talked to you. I… I don't remember meeting you," I said in a small voice. This was wrong, so much worse than I'd thought. His obsession wasn't recent; it was a festering wound that had been left open for too long. Dangerous, my mind warned, be on your guard.

"I'd say 'hi' to you, Bella, and sometimes you'd even smile back," he said in a voice that sounded like he was talking to a child.

I honestly couldn't remember a single thing about him. He was completely delusional. He had created something in his head that I had nothing to do with.

I backed off, knowing I needed to shift tactics. He needed to trust me right now, or I'd be in trouble.

I looked up at him, pretending to really see him for the first time. "But you look so different now. I hardly recognize you."

"I don't wear glasses anymore," he said proudly.

"Oh," was all I could think of to say.

He got up and moved to grab the chair in the corner. Swinging it around, he straddled the seat and leaned forward on the back to face me. "I never understood what you saw in James, though. He was so not your type. And you married him. I couldn't tell exactly what was going on. But when he and Victoria got together…"

That part of my life didn't bother me. Just don't mention Katie. I didn't want her name to pass his lips.

"But you kept moving, and I couldn't afford to keep relocating to where you were. By the time I could move to Spokane, you'd already moved to Forks."

Just the fact that he'd been privy to my life for so long made my skin crawl. He'd been there at various parts of my life, had probably witnessed me on some of my worst days and convinced himself I needed him.

I wanted to be at home with Katie and my dad; to be on my couch with Rose, gossiping and sipping at a cup of hot tea; to be sharing good news with Edward. I was pregnant with his baby, and I didn't even know if I'd get to tell him.

The fear I'd been holding at bay broke at these thoughts. My throat felt tight, and I blinked my eyes rapidly to hold off the tears that sprang up.

"And then once I got to Port Angeles, and we started to spend time with each other, I thought 'This is it'. She's finally going to see me. When you said you would go to dinner with me, I just knew we'd be together. But you didn't choose me, you chose…him," he said, in a frightening dead calm.

I gulped. "I—" My voice was too shaky, so I waited until I could talk easier. "I tried to explain to you, and tell you how sorry I was. I was confused at the time. I should have been honest with you."

"It wasn't enough. You never gave me a chance."

He got up and moved over stand by the window again, effectively bringing him within reach of me. I scooted further into the wall, drawing my knees up in case I had to use my feet as a weapon.

At that moment, I was so, so grateful for my training. He was delusional, but not belligerent. And I was starting to understand what things would and would not set him off. I didn't want to mention any names of my family, anything to make him any angrier, so I thought I'd try to barter with him instead.

I started off easy. "Riley, listen to me. You could be in a lot of trouble right now, but I could help you out. I have a lot of friends here; I'm sure we could work something out."

He paced over to the chair that he had been occupying and sat down, putting his head in his hands.

After a few moments, I lowered my voice, trying to keep the situation on an even keel. "What are you going to do with me?"

He didn't answer, instead rising to stand on the other side of the room.

"Riley?" I asked gently.

"I don't know," he said.

"You don't know? You didn't plan on staying here forever, right? I mean, you were going to take me somewhere, weren't you?"

He still didn't answer.

My mind was trying to sort out all of the possibilities. I needed to stall. I knew Edward, Charlie, everyone would be on this by now. We had to be somewhere on the peninsula, because it was still dark when we got here, so that'd be … oh, shit. We could be in Oregon for all I knew.

I pressed on. "What is the plan? Where are we going?"

He pulled a few things from a backpack he'd brought in the room.

"Riley?"

He turned around to yell, "I don't know!"

His words made me nervous. He had no plan; therefore, I didn't know what I was dealing with. Now he was extremely agitated—I could see it in the way he shoved things back in the pack, the way his breathing became heavier. What the hell was he going to do with me? The thought only strengthened my resolve. I had to keep thinking of Katie, Edward…the baby.

I glanced at the window again, trying to see the light and gauge the time of day.

Before I could react, even swing my eyes back to the center of the room, he was at my feet. There was a tug, and my center of balance was lost. In a flash my feet were being secured to the end of the bed. I cried out at his roughness, trying to pull away as he did the same with my hands and the iron rails of the headboard.

Watching him move about the room reminded me of an animal only now realizing it wasn't free. He moved nervously from one room to the next, leaving the door to my room open so I could see him checking the windows and doors. Every so often he'd appear in the doorway and utter something new.

"You shouldn't have left me to be with him."

"You don't belong with him."

"The timing was perfect, until he came along."

The last time he turned to walk from the room, I noticed a revolver tucked in the back of his pants.

Oh, Jesus.

My first instinct was to tug on my bindings to see if there wasn't any way I could pull free, but the duct tape and zip ties held true. The panic was too much to push aside this time, and I began to shake.

On his last cruise by he threw a blanket on me, shut the door, and locked it.

The silent tears that I'd been holding back unleashed their bindings, and refused to be stopped.

O=^=O

Keeping my attention on the sounds outside the door, I tried to pass the time by counting and making plans in my head while he moved about the house. It had started to rain; the sounds of it on the roof helped me to imagine myself curled up at home on the couch with Bug and Edward watching a movie. I was planning what I would do when I got home, going over and over it in my head so I wouldn't sink into despair.

After a long while, he reappeared to give me more water and part of a granola bar.

"I just wanted to take care of you, Bella. Just you and me."

Too scared to think about the situation and dealing with him rationally, I began to plead. "I have a family, Riley. A family that needs me."

"I am your family now. You need to understand this."

"No. I am not yours to keep."

He loomed over me then, grabbing my jaw; his entire hand encompassing my face and throat.

"Tell me you love me." His eyes wandered over my face looking for something that wasn't there.

I tried turning my head to the left, to free myself from his grasp.

Fuck this. I was so done with his bullshit. Let him try to hurt me—he was close enough for a solid head butt, and I'd use my teeth if I needed to.

"I don't fucking love you, you bastard."

The grip on my face tightened, I could feel his fingers digging into the side of my face. "Tell me."

I moved my face up, trying to wrestle free from his grasp. I was looking out the window, through the small opening I had made, and I swear I saw a flash of something out the window.

No, I told myself, stay in the present. At this point I was so tired, so hungry and thirsty and scared, that I was probably starting to hallucinate.

"No." And I spat in his face.

Too late, I realized what a bad move I'd made. Up until then, he'd been on the edge, but fear gripped me tighter then than it had at any point in the whole ordeal as I watched unadulterated hate pass over his features.

His hold on me tightened and he kneeled on my legs. The rage pouring from his body was toxic, his muscles shaking from the fight. His knee worked its way between my legs as I struggled against him.

This wasn't about a long obsession anymore. Now, it was about control.

I'd die first, you motherfucker.

He grunted and tried to pin my body further down into the mattress. Over the sound of my blood pumping in my ears, the grunts of anger and rapid breaths, a soft click had me turning my head.

All I could think, even as I struggled and fought, twisted my head to bring my teeth closer to his neck, was please, please let this be real.

I turned to the right and saw Edward, more horrified than I'd ever seen him before, in the doorway, gun pointed directly at Riley.

I stilled, staring at him.

Sensing the change, Riley, who was still holding me down with his frame fully against mine, turned to reach for his firearm.

Before he could fully glimpse my deputy in the doorway, an ear-splitting shot rang out. The full weight of my abductor slumped on top of me, and I screamed.

O=^=C

A/N: SO happy you've enjoyed the story so far. Your reviews are golden to me.

nic, you are the best. xoxoxo

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