Big Daddy Wants Me

2: Dolores.

My heart stops, starts, then stops again.

Did he just say he’s been sent here to kill me?

A hot blush makes my cheeks tingle as a cold surge of adrenaline pumps through my veins, chilling my fingertips and toes.

I stare and try to process what’s happening.

He can’t be a hitman. He’s too handsome for that. Not handsome in the traditional sense like you’d see in a magazine, but in a purely masculine way that reminds me of a feral animal. The kind of man who could live on his own in the mountains and be just fine.

His eyes are steady, cold. Like a killer. And when I see the gun in his hand, I realize that’s exactly what he is.

This isn’t a prank; this is really happening. I’m about to die. But if I am, I’m not going down without a fight.

I try to move, but my body simply will not respond. The best I can do is make my right hand twitch, causing my book to fall to the floor. And when I open my mouth to scream, my voice stops half-way up my throat.

This is it. I really am helpless.

And I’m going to die.

I can hear my father’s voice from the other room. This is about him, not me. No one would want to kill me if I wasn’t his daughter.

He moves with inhuman speed. I close my eyes and brace myself for the last moments of my life. My eyes snap shut, and my body goes tense.

Will I hear the gunshot? Or will everything just go black?

None of that happens. Instead, I feel his hand, callused and rough, grip my wrist tightly. With ease, he tugs me out of my chair and onto my feet. But my legs buckle and fall like wet spaghetti.

He catches me with one arm around my waist and hoists me over his shoulder.

“What…what are you doing?” I manage to mutter.

“I’m getting you out of here.”

Getting me out of here? I thought he was going to kill me.

Oh, no. Is this going to turn into a horror movie where this maniac keeps me locked in his basement, cruelly torturing me until finally deciding to take my life before turning my skin into leather and making couch cushions out of it?

He moves with grace and speed as he darts out of the room and down the hallway. It’s as though he doesn’t even notice my extra weight. My eyes are still closed, but I smell the fresh night air as he takes me outside, then the stink of Marla’s cigarette.

Will she see us?

No. She doesn’t. Finally, I manage to open my eyes and see the grass below us as he carries me down the lawn, past the bushes to the road. Then I’m in the back of his car and he’s pulling away from the house.

“What…why—?”

“I can’t do it, Dolores. I can’t kill you.” His voice is low and raspy but filled with strength. Unwavering. He isn’t even fazed by tonight’s events. “But my employer will have me killed if I don’t. So, I’m taking you away. I’ll keep you safe, but I’ll make it look like you are dead.”

Should I believe him? It’s pretty hard to convince myself that I should listen to anything a man with a gun who just kidnapped me has to say, but he sounds sincere.

Sounds sincere!? Am I losing my mind?!

“How—how do I know you’re not just going to take me and rape me and kill me?” I blurt out, the terror rising within me.

“I may be a bad man, Dolores,” Fred responds, “but I’m not a monster.”

Again, I want to believe him, but it’s hard…

The car speeds down the road, the silhouettes of shadowed trees whizzing by. I wonder how long it will be until my father realizes I’m missing and what he’ll do about it. Based on how many nights I go to bed without seeing him, I’m betting it will be at least two days.

Despite the countless questions in my mind, the infinite scenarios I keep playing out as we drive, I decide it’s probably best to keep quiet for the rest of the ride. I’m not sure how long it takes, but eventually Fred pulls off the main road onto a dirt drive. He gets out and opens a tall metal gate, pulls through, gets out, and closes it again behind us.

No streetlights here. Just the cold blue beam of the headlights illuminating the path before us. After a minute or two, a small cabin comes into view. It’s small, quaint, and kind of cute looking, and I’m pretty sure that if this was any other night, and I hadn’t just been kidnapped at gun point, I might actually find it cozy and inviting.