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Missing Without A Trail - Blackmane & Sapphire

Blackmane

Blackmane

Sir
Joined
Jan 1, 2024

Missing Without A Trail
with

how-to-choose-the-right-long-hairstyles-for-men.jpg

Adam Reynolds
37, 6'4

and

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Alex Harper
22, 5'5
​

People underestimate how easily someone can just disappear without a trace. Vanish from existence, without a trail to follow, their fates forever unknown, or perhaps until decades later when those who cared have long since moved on. He'd seen it happen all too often at his job.

Tonight was no different. The fog was thick, and the light overhead lit the bloody scene with stark shadows. Amidst the splashes of guts and innards, her eyes stood out to him. No, they called out to him.

"Sir, what do we do with this?" A man asked, right next to him with shaking nerves and eyes lacking any sort of character or integrity. People who kept quiet and did what they were told. A dime a dozen, but valuable, nonetheless.

"Call reinforcements and a cleanup crew."

He stared at the vehicle still running in front of them. An old mustang, a classic case of a good ride falling apart after going through a dozen owners each less careful than the last, the bumper was falling off, that was enough grounds to do a pullover. Not quite enough to empty a magazine of 9mm bullets on the poor sod.

Wrong place, wrong time.

Jonas Jose de la Guaira, 26. He was a small-time drug dealer in a small town in North Carolina. Hardly someone the DA would pay attention to. He sold weed and ecstasy, and maybe a pound or two of cocaine. The trial alone would have costed more than what he pulled with a month's worth of sales.

His eyes turned over to his terrified companion still sitting in the car, told to stay put and not to move a few moments ago while in the background his second officer made the calls as ordered.

Nothing personal, the boy had just stepped out of line. He shouldn't have started selling in a turf that wasn't his. Certain cartels wanted him dead, and there was no better way to push the issue under the rug than to have an officer do it. His hand still felt the recoil of each gunshot. The first three were quick. Two to the chest, one to the head. The last nine were slow and unemotional. Shot after shot she'd have seen her long dead boyfriend's chest shake with the impact until the hammer on his pistol jammed and the magazine emptied. Blood splattered all over the place, ruining the crumbling car that was already on its last legs. Like its owner, it would get a quick and unceremonious funeral at the scrapyard.

This was nothing new. Officer Adam Reynolds did this kind of dirty work more often than he did anything legitimate. The police department was mostly in on it. After all, drug dealers were still being removed from the streets. Who cared in what order? The ones who paid were put last on the list, and the ones who paid even more could even suggest who'd get put away first.

"Get the goods, I'll take care of the girl." He said, stepping closer to the car after putting away his gun. He didn't need it, he knew she wouldn't try to pull anything.

She was one of those.

A ghost, someone who under the right circumstances could completely disappear. There was no need to get violent, she'd just as well become the plaything of some big wig after being pronounced missing and later dead. He'd "processed" a few people that way before. But this time, looking at her, he had a whim.

Maybe he should just keep her for himself.

"John, do me a favor." He said, the young man hurrying over with a few plastic bags. He took the one with colored pills off his hands.

"Yes, sir."

"There was only one person in the car, the driver. Unless you want to be the found collapsed over a mustang's hood as a shootout casualty."

The young man went pale, his gulp almost audible. "Yes, sir."

"And while we're at it, we only found cocaine and weed." He said, stuffing the ecstasy pills in his pocket. They would come in handy. "Girl, step out of the vehicle, nice and slow. Hands up in the air, don't try anything funny."

Adam walked over to the passenger door and opened it. Were she to take longer than a second to obey, he would pull her out himself. Out of caution, he made sure to handcuff her hands behind her back, where they wouldn't cause any trouble. The hefty steel cuffs were unusually polished, as if he cherished them. His hand tangled with her hair as he ran it up her head, squeezing it into a tight fistful before escorting her straight to his car.

Not the police vehicle parked in front, but the high end german luxury sedan parked behind. She wouldn't be going to the station, after all.

She would be going home.
 
Alex had grown up on the streets. Her mother got by selling her body on the streets night after night, just enough to put food on the table for her. Any subsequent pregnancies were quickly dealt with at an abortion clinic since her mother cared more about drugs and sex than actually being a mother. Alex barely paid any attention to her she she was home. By fifteen she had scored a fake ID and was getting into clubs, mooching off rich men who were swayed by a pretty face. She'd learned early that men desired her and she used that to her advantage. Right when the men were getting ready to do the deed, so to speak, she'd drug their drink and Rob them blind of all the cash they had in their wallets. They couldn't report it because a lot of them were married so she got off Scott free. The ones who did report it quickly rescinded the story when they had to describe her, knowing there was a chance she was a minor.

The years went by and her life just coasted into an endless flurry of abusive boyfriends, drunken nights, and some occasional drug use. Thankfully, she was the rare sort to not get addicted, but would use molly or ecstasy to have a good time every once in a while, especially at clubs. Jose wasn't someone she would usually go for, but he was sweet and treated her like a queen, unlike the other assholes she'd been with.

The night they were pulled over, she was nervous since she knew he had drugs on him. Jose just turned to the officer, asking what the problem was, and then her entire world shattered in an instant. Shock riddled her body as blood from her boyfriend sprayed all over her face and clothes, her brain struggling to process what had just happened. It was only when she'd seen Jose slump over, dead in his seat, that she found her voice again and let out a blood-curdling scream.

Terrified, she looked at the officers discussing the scene, her heart beating so hard it made her ears hurt. The whole world was spinning. He was going to kill her too... She was a witness. He couldn't leave her alive because she could ID him. This officer was a cold-blooded killer... The first three shots had been to ensure he was killed, but the other ones were just out of pure malice and sociopathy.

Her entire body was shaking and she was sobbing, frightened eyes staring at the cop who'd just killed Jose as he came around to her side, ordering her to step out of the vehicle. She didn't want to... As soon as she was out of that car, he'd kill her. He'd already told his partner that there was only one person so he'd make sure she was never found. However, she had just witnessed him murder someone. Not even giving her a minute to compose herself enough to leave the vehicle, he opened the door and reached in, dragging her out.

She screamed, the fight of fight or flight kicking in hard as she yanked against him, crying and begging for someone to help her, but he was too strong. His grip was like iron and she was rendered helpless as he cuffed her wrists behind her. The hand in her hair made her cry out, from both surprise and pain, her legs like jelly as she was walked not to his police car, but his personal car parked behind it...

"Officer, I won't say anything. Please... Please don't do this..." She figured she was being brought to his car so be could drive her somewhere, execute her, and leave her in a ditch.
 
The rain poured stronger by the minute.

He'd be fine. His old-fashioned dark beige trench coat and hat fended off the weather pretty well as it was, but that wouldn't be the case for the girl whose sobs would be washed away by the cold downpour. Like most things, he was always prepared, and those who wound up at the wrong end of the barrel of his M1911 did not.

She was completely drenched by the time he dragged her all the way to his car, the door opening on its own with the press of a button.

"Relax, girl. No one's out to get you." He said, nonchalantly, despite the fact that this was a thinly veiled kidnapping. "Get in, and don't make a fuss inside."

He practically tossed her down on the passenger seat and closed the door behind her. He let out a deep, uncertain sigh, figuring he might as well light one up before going for the drive home. It wasn't as if she could do anything with her hands tied behind her back.

The flick of his lighter briefly lit his face. Wide cheekbones, stern jaw, and a beard and flowing hair resembling a lion's mane. He was rather handsome for a cop, but then again, he was a crooked one, so it fit him to a T. He brought the cigarette to his lips, watching his underling do all the work he should be doing. A couple of inhales, a few puffs of smoke escaping his parted lips, a flickering light falling on the ground before being stomped by a polished boot, and now his stern gaze was back on her as he walked over to the driver's seat and got inside.

He didn't say a word. The purring engine of German origin said all there was to be said, they were leaving the scene of the crime. He drove off into the distance, towards the big city Jonas had been driving away from in this fateful night. At first the buildings were sparse, but soon enough they would reach the heart. Traffic was thick, stops were plenty, the sound of rain hammering the windshield and the rhythmical squeaks of the wiper the only sounds in the cabin.

Any questions she had he wouldn't answer, not yet. He turned into a parking lot, and at last the engine came to a halt.

"We are here." He said, getting out first and walking over to her side to help her out, a little more gently than the first time out, yet his big hand held her firmly by the arm as he led her towards the elevator.

"Don't bother screaming for help. Half the place is cartel owned." He said to her ear.

While the parking lot looked rather mundane, one look at the luxurious elevator once the doors opened gave a completely different feeling. He practically shoved her inside, pressed the highest number on the dial, and the elevator began moving upwards with a quiet hum after a turn of his key.

"I could have buried you already, but didn't. You're a smart girl, you can put two and two together." He said, looking at her. Despite his intentions, there was barely any lust in that gaze.

"You will be declared missing soon, dead in a few months. You might as well be a ghost, an attractive one, which makes you worth your weight in gold."

The door opened to an ostentatious luxury apartment at the top-most floor. There were windows all around, yet not a single terrace to be found. Thirty-four floors up, it would be practically impossible for her to escape from anywhere other than the elevator she entered.

A spacious, modern living room that wouldn't look out of place on an architecture magazine, an indoor pool acting as its center piece. A fully kitted out kitchen, and a hallway leading into a couple of rooms further ahead. In terms of square feet it wasn't a huge place by any means, but the level of luxury was on par with any mansion.

And none of it looked used in the least, besides a few spots in the kitchen and the wide-open door at the end of the hallway hinting at an unmade bed.

"Welcome to your new home."
 
Alex shivered, chilled to the bone by the cold rain that soaked into her clothing and the frightening scene she had just both witnessed and been a part of, parts of her boyfriend still clinging to her clothes due to the close range of the spatter. Her life flashed before her eyes as he opened the door and tossed her inside, fully confident of her inability to escape since her hands were still cuffed behind her. He was going to drive her somewhere, empty a bullet in her head, and that would be it... Why the fuck did she have to get involved with men like Jose? Why did she always go for the bad boys? Someone had obviously ordered a hit on him and this cop was on the take. He hadn't been banking on loose ends so he had to clean up any misconceptions about the scene, both with the story he'd told his partner and now with driving her somewhere to kill her.

As soon as he'd closed the door and turned away from her to light his cigarette, she frantically started to try and wriggle her hands out of the cuffs. They weren't tight enough to be uncomfortable, but he apparently knew how to make them just snug enough to be impossible to escape. She could feel her skin chafing as the metal grated against it. Unfortunately, she didn't have the whole length of a cigarette to try and get free since he only took a few puffs and stamped it out before climbing into the car. Instantly, she stopped trying to free herself from the cuffs and leaned away from him against the door, just staring at him with a mix of emotions: shock, anger, confusion, curiosity...

"Where are you taking me?" she asked, growling in annoyance when he didn't answer her. "Tell me where you're taking me! I deserve to know where I'm going to die, don't I?!"

He stayed silent the entire ride, not even bothering to look over at her as they drove away from the scene and into the heart of the city. Wait, why not somewhere remote? What was he doing? Her entire body ran cold with alarm and fear when he pulled into a parking garage. When he opened the door, she was ready to kick her feet out at him, using whatever she had left at her disposal to try and fight going with him, but he easily overpowered her and strong armed her toward the elevator, at which point he revealed that the place was run by the cartel.

He was going to fucking sell her... He'd said himself that she was smart and could put two and two together and how she would be declared missing and that her attractiveness was worth its weight in gold. "Officer, you can't. You can't fucking sell me!!" The elevator shot up to the 34th floor, trapping her inside the box with a sociopathic cop who intended to sell her to the highest bidder. This wasn't fucking happening... Her entire body shuddered as she fought the urge to vomit in the elevator, the harsh and terrifying realization of what he intended to do sinking in.

When the doors opened, a spacious, luxury, penthouse apartment appeared in front of her, complete with an indoor swimming pool. She had dreamed about living in a place like this, but all she wanted to do now was crawl into a hole and die with the fate she was facing.

From behind she heard that this was her new home and her legs felt like they would give out beneath her. In order to get up here, he'd had to use a key, there were no balconies or landings attached to the side of the building, and there was no exit outside of that elevator that needed key access... She was literally a prisoner. Angry, but also frightened, she rounded on the cop behind her. "Does this make you feel good, you sick fuck? Selling people like chattel?! Please, please just arrest me. Throw me in jail... Anything!!" She obviously wasn't considering that this might be his apartment and jumping right to the conclusion that he'd hand delivered her to her new owner.
 
He had silently put up with her outbursts for a while, and yet that seemed to give her free license to throw a full on tantrum once the threat of death was presumably off the table.

People were irrational creatures. If he was going to sell her, then it would be in her best interests to keep quiet and plead for a better outcome. She was off the legal grid now, without recourse, stuck inside a luxurious prison. A gilded cage, so to speak. The only way out would by ending a life: his or hers. Or as she kindly reminded him, through trade. He could definitely arrange something if he wanted to.

But he didn't. He turned around to face her, his icy blue eyes as emotionless as they had been when he killed her boyfriend and dumped the rest of his magazine into him for good measure. Those same eyes were now focused on her, and on her alone as he grabbed her by the jaw and shoved her forward, pinning her to the wall next to the elevator as its doors closed and its descent began.

"You're not being sold. Unless you want to convince me otherwise." He said, his eyes, for the first time, roaming her body. She reeked of blood and guts. Hardly the most appealing state to be in.

"I could have killed you on the spot, and still could. I could sell you for millions if I felt like it, but I won't. Do you understand your position? The only reason you're here, alive and well, is because I fucking felt like it."

He flipped her over, pinning her to the wall, one hand on her hair, the other reaching for his pants. It would be all too easy to imagine what he was going to do, and perhaps it even was something he considered, but the next sound was that of one of her cuffs coming loose, the other dangling from her wrist.

"Go. Bathroom's first door to the right. Leave your clothes outside the door. I need to burn them."

He let go at last, realizing he'd have to scrub the wall clean now. Or at least, someone would have to.
 
Alex knew she was playing with fire as she threw her tantrum and that she was being irrational, but she couldn't just accept that in a split second her life had been forever changed. This man now controlled every aspect of what happened to her next and could decide to just empty a magazine in her if the whim struck him.

As he advanced on her she stepped backwards, not entirely sure what he was planning to do and determined to keep some distance between them since she was still cuffed and defenseless. In just a few strides he had closed the gap, though, reaching out for her jaw so be could spin her around and pin her to the wall. He assured her that she wasn't being sold so why the fuck was she here? Was the man some kind of serial killer and he intended to torment her before dealing the final blow? He'd already said she would be declared dead soon and she'd seen proof that the cops were willing to clean up his messes.

He reminded her that be could still kill her and the very fact that she was still breathing was only because he wanted her to be. She whimpered, her entire body shaking uncontrollably as he flipped her around and started unfastening his pants. She knew what was going to happen next... Or at least thought she did. Her brows furrowed in confusion when she felt one of the cuffs give way before he gave the instructions for her to go to the bathroom, presumably to take a shower. She wanted to scream and fight, but the thought of washing off the blood and vitae from her skin won out.

Not bothering to protest, she left the wall and walked over to the bathroom, opening the door and shutting the door behind her before launching into convulsing sobs that he could definitely hear from behind the door. Reality was hitting her like a freight train and she felt like she was going to throw up. Her life, as she knew it, was over. She couldn't escape this floor without his key and he was significantly stronger than her. Fighting against him would just end in pain and he didn't seem the type to go easy on her either.

After a few minutes of crying and breathing, she managed to compose herself enough to get undressed, set the temperature of the water, and put her clothes out the door before closing it again and stepping in under the hot, steamy spray of water.

She took her time, letting the water wash away the blood as well as her tears, relaxing her tense muscles, but she also knew that as soon as she left the shower she'd have to face him again. Eventually, after about a half hour, she stepped out and grabbed a towel, using it to dry her body and hair before wrapping it around herself and emerging from the bathroom.
 
Any other man would have cracked, hearing the sobs coming out of the bathroom. Not Adam, he was decidedly focused on the scuffs of blood and guts stuck on his wall.

The apartment was immaculately clean, too pristine to be the kind of place someone would actually live in. An extravagant living room with a pool instead of a coffee table, a glass dining hall with an unobstructed view of the cityscape from floor to ceiling, a couple of spacious bedrooms and that enormous kitchen.

No way a man with as much work to do as him had the time to keep it clean. Someone else did the job, someone he'd have to fire now that she was there. Shoving that thought aside, Adam walked away towards his bedroom, its door left wide open the morning he left for work.

The bed had been left the way it was. King-sized, top-of-the-line mattress, black silk sheets and a burgundy red duvet with matching pillows and blankets. A black triangular fold had been left where he once laid on the left side closest to the door. The window behind the bed went along the entire wall from floor to ceiling, covered in matching red curtains for some much-needed privacy. And across was the dresser, exactly what he was looking for. The right-side door creaked as he slid it open for the first time in years, clothes that wouldn't fit either him or her dangling on. The nightgown, however, would do just fine.

Setting that aside, he put away his coat and hat in a sealed plastic bag he'd have to submit the next day, leaving him on a plain white dress shirt that did little to hide his muscular outline, and a pair of black pants to go with it. By the time he was done getting rid of his shoes he heard the guest bathroom door open just in time.

She'd see him casually approach her toweled self from the bedroom, and this time even he found it hard to ignore. Even stinking of blood and drugs she was quite attractive, let alone just out of the shower. The usual stern gaze had, at last, shown hints of his true intentions, intentions a woman like her would instantly recognize. He put his hand on the door frame, half cornering her, with the night gown presented to her. Needless to say, it was sheer, and it wouldn't serve much of a purpose in covering her figure. However, he didn't give her room to negotiate as he immediately confiscated the towel.

"Put this on, towel has to burn,"

Adam pulled her aside as he entered the bathroom she had just showered in, picking up her clothes and tossing them into a plastic bag he had on hand alongside the tower. "You can buy whatever clothes you want tomorrow. You can use my ex-wife's side of the wardrobe. It's yours."

"And in case it wasn't clear by now..."

Straightening back up, he reached for her chin, forcing her gaze to meet his.

"You belong to me now."
 
Since he wasn't in the room as soon as she'd left the bathroom, she took a moment to survey the apartment. It was a top of the like penthouse apartment, for sure, but it looked too...clean. He obviously had a maid service come in and do the cleaning since she couldn't find any hint of someone else other than him being there, and even that was scarce.

Her clothes were abandoned in the bathroom as she stepped a little more into the main area, clutching the towel tight around her since she didn't trust the twist she'd done at the top not to give way. Right as she was coming up to the edge of the pool, he emerged from his bedroom on the side, carrying a neglige in his hand. She could see the sheer nature of it and knew that it would do nothing to hide her figure beneath.

As he approached she froze, not sure what to expect as he backed her toward the bathroom again, cornering her in the doorway by putting his hand on the door frame and hovering with his much taller figure, caging her in. Her hand clutched the towel tighter as she tensed, meeting his gaze to try and ascertain his intentions before yelping in surprise when he yanked away the towel. Instantly, she tried to cover herself, but he handed her the nightgown and pulled her from the bathroom saying the towel had to burn. Why? It was clean... She'd washed herself. DNA maybe?

Shaking, she watched as he put her clothes and the towel in a plastic bag leaving her only the sheer nightgown held tight in her fingers. As he straightened and grabbed her chin, delivering those final, damning words, she felt like she was going to collapse. Belonged to him. He owned her... She didn't even want to fathom the meaning behind those words. This man could literally do anything to her and no one would ever know.

"Why are you doing this? You know I won't say anything... It's suicide to accuse a cop of something, knowing the entire precinct will back him. Why take me?"
 
Her chin trembled on his hand when he delivered the news, his hand sliding down her jaw towards her neck.

"Why, you ask? Is that not obvious?" He muttered, his deep voice taking a more sensual tone as his grip wrapped around her neck as if to give physical sensation to the reality before her. She was, by all accounts, a modern-day slave now.

"You're asking a corrupt cop with ties to the cartels why he would want to keep a young, attractive woman for himself?"

Standing close to her, he was almost a foot taller, towering over her small, petite frame. His eyes roamed her, hungry, no, ravenous for her flesh as he held her against the doorframe. He had a few of those ecstasy pills he had confiscated in his pocket. He could force one of them down her throat and have his way with her. He could just straight up bend her over and rape her.

Part of him wanted to. He closed in, his hand letting go of the trash bag to seize her hand before she could pull away.

"I didn't pick you up to keep you from talking girl, if that's what I wanted I could have just put a bullet through your skull and buried you six feet under. But it would be a shame to ruin that beautiful face now, wouldn't it? So, count yourself lucky, because those big pretty eyes and plump lips are what's keeping you alive."

He wanted to go further, something inside him throbbed, demanding him to take what was rightfully his. To claim the spoils of his conquest. It was the primal need of an animal seeking release in violence and debauchery. But he let go, pulling away and grabbing the bag destined for the incinerator.

"Go, get ready for bed. Stop asking stupid questions, and I won't be too harsh on you. Keep complaining, and I'll start reconsidering my hospitality."

Adam walked away towards the kitchen and tossed the back into the incinerator chute. Probably not the best escape route either.
 
The hand around her throat made her eyes widen, completely aware that he could easily choke her death if he so chose, but his grip remained loose enough to just be a reminder of his control.

Alex knew the answer to her question, she just didn't want to come to terms with it and was holding onto an unrealistic hope that he had other intentions in mind. His gaze, however, obliterated that hope, smashing it into a million pieces. He had taken her because she was attractive and he wanted her... He had eliminated her boyfriend without a second thought and figured he would just claim the spoils for himself because he could. She knew the police force was corrupt, but this was downright inhumane.

He reminded her that be could have just killed her along with her boyfriend, but confirmed that her looks had saved her. She counted herself both lucky and unlucky at the same time because she was alive, but what kind of life would he be forcing her into?

The hungry look in his eyes told her to prepare for him to take her, to just accept the inevitable and let it happen, but he released her and told her to go to bed, grabbing the bag with her clothes and towel. She watched as he walked over to a hole in the wall marked "incineration shute" and tossed the bag in, destroying any remnant of herself that she had left. The act had also shown that even though there was a path away from this apartment, it would kill her if she chose to take it.

Bed... Where was she sleeping? She didn't want to be in bed with him. She couldn't stomach it. He was a killer, a monster. She didn't even want to look at him. So, she turned and headed into the living room, grabbing a throw blanket from the back of the couch so she could fashion a makeshift bed for herself.
 
Even someone as ruthless as him wouldn't be in the mood right after killing someone. For as long as the stench lingered in his nose, all he'd want would be a hot bath and a good night of sleep. So, for the time being, seeing her nest in his living room didn't bother him in the least. If anything, there was something endearing about seeing someone other than himself make themselves at home there.

Not that he felt strongly about it. At the end of the day, he had picked her up on a whim.

Adam walked past her and back into his room, where he took a bath and got ready for bed. There were, realistically, two ways for her to attempt an escape: through the elevator, or by communicating with the outside. The first one was easily solved, by keeping the key inside a small pocket in his boxers. For the second one, he never had a home phone line in the first place, and all his devices were locked behind fingerprint and password.

There was also the matter of getting clothes for her along other amenities. He evidently couldn't take her out, and online shopping would be a risk he wasn't willing to take; too many ways for her to potentially communicate with someone outside. He wasn't sure of her background, and the worst he could do would be to underestimate her ability to be a pain on his backside. As corrupt as the police department was, if he were to be publicly exposed, Adam would get buried within the day.

So that left one expensive option. Slaves were nothing unusual in the underworld, so he wasn't the only one with this sort of problem. Before going to bed, he made a call to an old buddy of his. He went by Nando, a prolific fence and broker for just about any needs of illegal nature or otherwise requiring utmost discretion.

"A full wardrobe, huh? On the hush? Won't come cheap. To clarify, this isn't just any old clothes you want."

"I didn't go through the trouble of getting her to put her in rags."

"A fair point amigo, a fair point. Well I got a lady who works for the Peralez. She can bring an entire shop over and from and its an all-you-can-eat buffet for your unlucky girl. And she better have an appetite, because two hundred grand is their fee. Top shelf stuff, though."

"Fine, patch me through." He said, letting out a deep breath. The sting on his wallet was physically painful.

It wasn't as if anything went cheap in the criminal world. Half the money was just to keep the people involved quiet, let alone the scale of the operation. Besides, a girl like her in her early twenties... and a ghost soon to be declared dead. She was worth a fortune and then some.

"Wonderful. I will bill you my commission once the deal is closed."

With the press of a button, Nando patched the line over to his contact. This way, neither side would know the contact info of the other, using the broker as a guarantor that both sides were reputable folk who would fulfill their end of the bargain.

The woman in question called herself Amanda. She would be arriving the next morning with her entire entourage of Mexican gangsters and designer outfits. When asked for his preferences, Adam wasn't sure what to answer. He wasn't particularly into fashion.

"High heels, classy, but with plenty of skin shown. Need gear too, a few harnesses, and a full suite of toys. Plus anything a woman might need for the next year or so."

He thought back on the bloody stain on the wall.

"Get her a French maid outfit as well. Might as well."

By the time he hung up he was two hundred and twenty down, and in this line of business installments were not exactly the norm. At least the girl herself had been free. He wrapped up for the day, and went to sleep. It would be a busy day for the two of them.
 
She wasn't sure what to expect when she started fashioning the makeshift bed in the living room. Would he stop her? Would he order her to go into the bedroom so he could keep an eye on her? Restrain her in some way?

As he passed behind her she tensed, pausing in spreading out the blanket until he has exited the room completely and gone into his bedroom. Only then did she release the breath she had been holding, her heart beat calming to a more normal rhythm. She climbed into the blanket and shifted around a bit before she felt comfortable, staring up at the ceiling, too wired from the day's events to sleep right away. How was she going to escape? She didn't have a phone and the key to the elevator was always on him... Where she had no idea, but he'd reveal that at some point. Using his phone was out of the question since calling the cops would only result in more of his friends coming to the site and reporting that they had come for a false call.

The only hope she had was to gain his trust enough that he granted her some freedom and then use that to her advantage to finally get free. How could she go back to her life, though? He'd said she would be declared dead so could she even go back to being the same person? She could go on the news, tell her story... Bring the whole world crashing down on him.

All the brainstorming eventually made her sleepy and she succumbed to the tiredness that overwhelmed her body, easing her off into a fitful and restless sleep full of nightmares of the scene from the car playing over and over again like some fucked up movie stuck on that one spot. By the time she woke up the next morning she groaned, sore and groggy from having barely any restful sleep.

She left the bed, put away her things, and went into the kitchen to find something to eat. Right then, the elevator box chimed indicating someone wanted to come inside...
 
Five thirty flat. He was already dressed and ready for his morning run by then. There was an unfamiliar sight in the living room as he brewed a cup of coffee, along the soft sounds of another living being breathing inside the apartment. Aside from the occasional call girl, he'd been alone for the better part of a year now.

This felt unfamiliar.

When he came back, there she was, trying to find something to eat while wearing that sheer night gown that left her mostly exposed. Alan was shirtless, sweating profusely with a towel around his neck and a bottle of water in hand. A well defined abdomen, chiseled pectorals and wide shoulders. Without the fancy clothes Adam looked like a wild animal prowling for his next prey.

But she wasn't to be his breakfast. He had a plastic shopping bag on hand with food and snacks from the convenience store. After all, the only thing he had in the kitchen was coffee. She was already thin as it was, so he didn't want her to lose even more weight.

"Eat up," he said, placing the bag on the island counter. "Someone will come to help you get everything you need. Don't bother explaining anything to them, they are even more dangerous than I am."

Right then, his phone rang.

"Looks like they are here."
 
The ding of the elevator revealed the officer again causing her entire body to stiffen. Was she allowed in the kitchen? It didn't look like he had anything other than coffee anyway, so she slipped out from around the island, trying not to let her gaze linger on his shirtless frame, sweat clinging to his muscles. Judging from the fact that he was carrying a plastic bag, she figured he ran all the way to the store and back, maybe part of his morning routine?

She wasn't going to deny that he was attractive. He was the exact type she always went for... Just the right amount of muscle to be sexy, but not obnoxious. Yet, she had just witnessed him murder the love of her life in cold blood and was now his prisoner, so the lust was easy to ignore. Curious to see what he'd grabbed, she opened the bag to find a couple breakfast sandwiches, a parfait, and some fruit. She grabbed the parfait and the little plastic packet with the spoon and the napkin and removed the spoon, tensing when he said that someone was coming to give her everything she needed, that they were more dangerous than him, and that they were already there.

"So... This isn't the first time you've done this?" She asked, trying to get a clue into previous victims or if this was truly just a "wrong place, wrong time" situation that required him to make a decision on a whim. He answered the call and the elevator door dinged, opening up to reveal people along with several racks of clothes, all designer and expensive. Realizing she was still in the sheer nightgown, she quickly ran to get the blanket from the living room and wrapped it around herself.
 
Adam looked at her, somewhat puzzled. It seemed as if she had a penchant for getting the wrong idea, every single time. The elevator began to come back down as his guests would likely be waiting by the parking garage.

"No, it's because I've never done this before that I had to pay twenty grand to a broker just to get in touch with these people," he said, shaking his head. "You dated a drug dealer, and yet you have no idea of how any of this works, do you?"

He took one of the sandwiches, pried off the plastic, and ate half of it in a single bite, and finished it just in time for the elevator to open again. Heels clicked as a middle-aged of Mexican descent stepped out on a classy business suit and skirt. "Dios! Que linda! Is this our girl?" She asked, addressing Adam, rather than her.

Adam, being business first as always, skipped the introductions. "Did you bring everything?"

"Of course! And a wonderful selection for your princess in chains to choose from. Including actual chains, for those inclined. Pedro, be a querido and start bringing everything up."

The man behind her went back down to the elevator after a polite nod, and from then on, cart after cart carrying skirts, shoes, pants, lingerie, and anything and everything one could possibly need to dress up for galas and orgies in equal measure quickly filled the living room.

"Amanda, I'll leave it up to you. Got work to do. Just remember I'm not buying anything that we didn't agree to in advance."

Something told him that if she was allowed to pick pants and sneakers, he'd never see her wear anything else. He left the two alone as he retreated back to his room to shower and get ready for work.

"Well, Ms... Girl. Whatever your name is, doesn't matter," she said, dismissively. "We have a lot to go through today. Your owner paid for an all-you-can-wear fashion buffet, and there are minimum quotas, so I hope you have the rest of your day available."

"She does." Adam cut into the conversation, already dressed on his usual shirt and pants. "She's all yours."

Disappearing along with Pedro, who still had more things to bring upstairs, Adam would not return until much later in the afternoon.
 
He had never done this before... She could use that to her advantage. If he had never captured someone before, then that meant she could scheme and plot in ways he wouldn't think of. The first thing was finding a way down that damned elevator. Though, if he was bringing such fancy things in, then that meant he would be bringing her out... Right? What was the sense of spending that kind of money if she was just going to be trapped in the apartment all day?

Her attention shifted to the loud, Mexican woman who stepped out from the elevator, addressing the officer first, assuring him that they had brought everything he asked for, including actual chains for his princess in chains... He was right, they didn't care about her predicament at all and also didn't care if they made it worse for her by providing the officer with tools.

Alex was about to answer the woman's question when the he answered it for her, giving her the choice to just nod in agreement. "Not like I can go anywhere," she muttered. "He killed my boyfriend and brought me here. I know you don't care, but you'll have to forgive me if I'm not in much of a shopping mood..." Since it was just her and the woman, she figured there was no harm in venting a little.

The woman listened to her plight, but she could tell it was an apathetic ear. She'd probably seen things that would make what Alex went through seem like a picnic in the park.

They got right to work having her try stuff on. According to the officer's parameters, she was only allowed to pick things that were sexy and the only shoes she was permitted were high heels...which she hated wearing. They were cumbersome and painful and definitely made it harder to run if she was given the chance.

Apparently he'd paid for 200k worth of clothes which was shocking. Why spend that much on a woman he'd just chosen to kidnap on a whim?

By the end of the day, she'd picked out everything she needed, had filled the quota, and was exhausted. Her outfit had changed into a Gucci dress and rhinestone studded, sandal, stiletto heels. The woman seemed satisfied and Marco had arrived to take her measurements.

Dress

Shoes
 
The woman rolled her eyes in an exaggerated fashion, as if to make light of her story. She must have been in her late thirties, but despite her aging skin she had a certain kind of glamour to her.

"My dear my dear," she said, looking back at her. "If Adam killed your boyfriend, he was going to end up dead one way or another, with you alongside him, either burning alive or plunged into the river chained up to a block of concrete. You are lucky to still be alive! And look at this place!? Best damn golden cage in the state I can tell you that much."

Or as some would say: blame the shooter, not the gun.

Noticing the mood had soured, she clapped her hands. "Well then. It's a good thing you are not actually shopping, because everything has been purchased in advance. Pedro, wait by the parking lot. I'll call when I need Marco to do his tailor magic."

Amanda began perusing through the endless amounts of clothes, showing her various outfits as she went. In the afternoon, once a few outfits had been picked out and her measurements were taken, the man named Marco -- an older gentleman sort -- would arrive to start making adjustments so each piece would fit her perfectly.
 
Alex sighed. The woman was right, but that didn't give the officer the right to just decide she was his now. Why not just let her go free? Get on with her life and teach her a lesson about going after the wrong crowd? He'd obviously done this as a knee-jerk reaction, so why go through all this trouble?

"I know. It's a beautiful apartment, but it's still, like you said, a cage... A cage with a man who I saw murder someone in cold blood and now have no escape from."

Marco took the measurements be needed to and they all started getting ready to leave. She approached Amanda. "Hey, before you go... Can you tell me a bit about him? The officer I mean? I guess, you could start with his name, maybe?"
 
Amanda had left her with a single sentence.

"In this line of business, we don't talk about our clients."

Indeed, letting something as simple as a name was an easy way to end up in the bottom of the ocean, and all of those who made their living providing "services" in the criminal underworld knew that better than anyone. That was why brokers existed.

Several suitcases were left behind alongside her brand-new wardrobe, and were she curious enough to check their contents, she'd find a preview of what would likely be awaiting her in the future. A collection of sex toys of various shapes and sizes on one case, and high-quality leather restraints and harnesses with accompanying chains to go with them. As for her new clothes, they had been all brought to the closet in Adam's bedroom.

About an hour later, the elevator door opened once more. Adam walked out with bags of groceries in his hands. He dropped them by the kitchen for now, having that worn look in his eyes from someone who had been busy all day. Yet when his eyes met hers his complexion changed.

One look was all it took for him to admit his whim hadn't been a mistake. He took a step towards her, rolling up his sleeves and pulling his tie loose. The big bad lion was in a trance, not saying a word as he got within reach, hand reaching for her chin.

He'd given her a day to adjust. But he didn't go through all of that trouble to have her around as decoration.
 
Alex nodded and just watched as the woman and her assistant left. Several pieces had been moved to the man's closet, but the suitcases remained in the main room. The contents of those were unknown and Amanda had been selectively vague about it making Alex even more curious. Once she was alone, she crossed the room to the suitcases, opening up one to find elastic holders inside to house a variety of sex toys. Her stomach churned since it was clear he'd bought these with the intention of using them on her. Sickened, she closed that one and moved onto the next one which contained leather harnesses, chains, restraints, impact tools, and a bunch of other things she didn't recognize readily.

Shaking her head in disgust, she zipped that one up as well and backed away from it as if it was a snake ready to bite her. How the fuck was she going to escape this? The only way out was that damned elevator and he held the key to it somewhere... He'd been annoyingly careful about not showing her the hiding place since he always just had it in his hand.

Anger welled up inside her as she stood up, leaving the suitcases where they'd been abandoned. That anger was still stewing when the officer came back, her eyes glaring daggers at him as he walked toward her, his eyes making his intentions clear having seen her in the dress. Her face was nothing but cold hatred as he held her chin.

"Absolutely fucking not," she hissed. "I just witnessed you kill my boyfriend and you think I want to fuck you?" She knew she was playing with fire, but the thought of having sex with him was enough to make her vomit.
 
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