Stealing Candi Read online

  Then Dante smiles and relaxes. “Hi Mo, how’s it going?”

  So he knows the cop by first name too? That’s not so encouraging.

  “I got a call about you harassing some co-eds?”

  “Oh you did, huh? Did you hear what they’ve been up to? Stealing liquor from down at the store?”

  Whelp, he just ratted me out to a policeman. It occurs to me that I could be the one who leaves the house in handcuffs. Technically, I did commit a crime. Technically.

  “I thought snitches get stitches,” I mutter under my breath.

  “You can’t mess with college kids,” the officer says, ignoring me. “They have parents who don’t like it. They hold vigils. They start social media campaigns. The media picks up on it.”

  “I’m not going to kill her,” Dante says.

  Well, that’s good news. I guess. Jesus. I squeeze the hot coffee cup between my hands, feeling the heat sinking into my fingers, reassuring me. It’s horrible how life can change with one stupid decision. I thought I was so fucking smart when I grabbed those boxes. I thought we’d have a party like no other - and we did, just not in the way I thought we would.

  The cop sighs. “You want to press charges?”

  That’s the question he should be asking me, but he’s addressing the gang member instead.

  “I’m not pressing charges. I’ll deal with this my way.”

  The cop nods, as if that’s perfectly reasonable. “Just… don’t leave any marks, alright?”

  What the literal fuck is happening? The police officer, the man sworn to protect and serve is just… telling Dante, the vicious gang leader, or at the very least the guy who has a lot of friends with matching tattoos, that he needs to ‘not leave marks’.

  “What kind of a police officer are you?” I exclaim, outraged.

  He doesn’t answer me. It’s like I stepped into some kind of rift where nobody can hear me or see me. I’m the subject of the conversation, but to them, I’m nothing but an object. Nobody needs to acknowledge me or talk to me. I’m just here, waiting to be acted on.

  No marks. That’s bullshit. They left a mark on Maddy when one of Dante’s men hit her so hard her face bruised. I don’t believe for a second that I’m not going to get away without marks, no matter what this ineffective officer says. This is so fucked up. To hell with it. I’d rather be arrested than left to Dante’s mercy.

  “I’ve broken the law!” I declare. “I should be taken to jail for that! I stole from this fine upstanding citizen. I took wares from this merchant. Charge me!”

  Once again, it’s like I haven’t spoken at all. The cop doesn’t even glance toward me, and Dante isn’t taking his eyes off the other man. Jesus. Okay. I have to get out of here. I walk toward the cop, but Dante grabs my arm before I can go more than a step.

  “Get back here you,” he growls, snugging me back against his body in an all too intimate grip.

  I’m at serious risk of turning into a screaming, begging, pathetic mess - though I know instinctively that would be a mistake. Dante is not the kind of man to take pity on the weak. I have to try to be strong.

  “See you around, Dante.”

  The police officer turns and leaves. Just walks the fuck away. I am left alone in the house with a man who is apparently powerful enough to have cops on a leash.

  “Come back! This man is holding me against my will!”

  The officer doesn’t even look back at me, and I feel a wave of despair and fear come crashing over me. It’s hard to process what just happened. A police man didn’t just walk away from me. All law and order went with him. I’m no longer living in civilized society. I’ve slipped outside that realm and now I’m at the mercy of this modern barbarian.

  “So you took something that wasn’t yours, and then you lost it, and then you called the cops on me?”

  Dante picks up right where he left off without so much as skipping a beat, swinging me around to face him.

  “I didn’t call them.”

  “Someone called them.”

  “Maybe one of the people you intimidated. Maybe you shouldn’t go around scaring college girls.”

  He looks me up and down, his huge hand keeping me right where he wants me. There’s no escaping his grasp. I’ve done self-defense courses. I can already tell that yelling NO and trying to jab him in the eyes isn’t going to work.

  “Maybe you shouldn’t steal shit that doesn’t belong to you. It’s not good for your health. You could get seriously hurt.”

  They’re not warnings. They’re threats he’s making. He wants to hurt me. He’s going to hurt me.

  “Remember what he said about the vigils?”

  “Oh yeah. They hold them for good girls, but you’re no good girl, baby,” he says, pushing me back down into my chair again.

  “The whole world thinks I am. I have a 4.0 GPA.”

  This is what my life has come to. Trying to convince a man who probably never opened a book in his life that he shouldn’t hurt me because I have a high GPA. How pathetic.

  “And I have a 1580 on the SAT. Doesn’t mean I’m a good guy.”

  Well, there goes my assumption that he’s stupid. A 1580 is higher than I got. Those are Ivy League numbers. I guess he can see the skepticism on my face, but he doesn’t say anything about it.

  “If you got a 1580, you could be, like, a supreme court justice.”

  “I also got a felony charge,” he snorts.

  Well. That could prove to be an obstacle I guess.

  “Whatever. Harassing me is below you.”

  “Yeah,” he says, putting his hands on either side of the table, looming over behind me. I can’t see him anymore, I can only see his tattooed forearms on either side of me, feel his massive bulk behind me. He is the embodiment of physical intimidation, but I’m not as afraid for my life as I possibly should be, because something else is happening inside me. A fizzing sensation low in my belly making my heart rate increase. My skin is sensitive to everything, suddenly I am aware of every gust of air coming through the open kitchen door, his breath on the back of my neck. I don’t know what he’s going to do with me, but I know he’s not done with me yet. He hasn’t even started.

  “You’re going to pay me back,” he growls softly in my ear.

  “Just let me know how much I owe you. Like I said, I’m happy to get your money for you.”

  “It’s not that simple. See, I’m going to have to send my boys to find what you lost.”

  “By now it’s probably inside some frat guy.”

  “You better hope it isn’t.”

  One of those big hands leaves the table. His fingertips brush over my forearm. His touch is light, almost a gentle caress, but his threat is all around me. I don’t know what to do. I’ve tried offering him money, but that doesn’t seem to interest him - which doesn’t make sense. How am I going to pay him back if he doesn’t want money?

  “I see girls like you all the time,” he says. “You think you’re better than everyone because you went to fancy schools and now you’re in a good college. You’ll find some boy who wears chinos and you’ll have two cute little blonde kids with him and they’ll grow up just as spoiled and stupid as you are.”

  “I’m not stupid!”

  “You think because you can test high you’re smart? You have no idea, Candi. You’re a soft little girl in a cotton wool world. But you swerved outside your lane when you took my stuff, and I’m not going to let you get away with it because your parents have a hotline to the people who put pictures on milk cartons.”

  “What’s your problem with me?”

  “You stole what was mine.” His voice washes through me like cold ice, and I know there’s no escaping him or his wrath.

  “Give me your phone.” His second sentence shocks me further.

  “What! Why?”

  He solves the problem by grabbing my whole purse. My pink clutch doesn’t go perfectly with his outfit, but he has my life now. My phone. My keys. My money. Everything
that matters is held in that little processed leather pouch.

  “Because it’s mine now,” he says. “Just like you are.”

  Chapter 4

  Dante

  She smells like vanilla and privilege.

  I love watching her panic.

  She’s shocked that this is happening to her, and that mommy and daddy’s checkbook isn’t going to get her out of it. This is the first time it has really sunk in for her just how fucked she is. Last night she was half-drunk. This morning, she was shocked. Now she’s just plain scared. Perfect.

  I am not the sort of man who lets anyone fuck with me, and that includes these stuck up college girls who think being Mayflower white and pretty is a get out of free jail card.

  If I’d have let Mo take her in, she’d be out with an unofficial warning and back to partying by tonight. She’s not getting off that easy. She’s going to pay for what she took, and she’s going to learn a lesson about how the world really works. I’m going to get my product back, and I’m going to have some fun with this girl whose hair is so damn soft and fine against my cheek. Everything about her is soft. Her hair. Her skin. Her soul.

  I could ruin her in a matter of minutes, break her so completely she would never be the same again. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t have a sick urge to do just that. There’s something about beauty of all kinds which begs to be destroyed. But I feel another drive too, and that is to protect her. She doesn’t deserve it. She’s certainly done nothing to earn it. It’s her wide eyed appeal that is keeping her from experiencing the worst of me.

  I reach up and wrap my hand around the back of her neck, feel her stiffen. Her limbs curl up a fraction with that fetal impulse all mammals are born with. I am charged with the adrenaline of impending conquest. I know she’s going to be mine. This soft, sweet girl is going to spread herself for me and I’m going to take her so rough and so hard she’s going to be a mess by the end of it.

  “Come.” I give the order curtly.

  When she doesn’t get out of her chair right away, I transfer the grip on the back of her neck to her hair, fisting it and tugging until she gives in to my will and follows the strained follicles up and out of the house.

  “Where are you taking me?”

  She’s scared to leave, but she should know that she doesn’t want me to deal with her here. If her friends find her in the state I intend to get her in, she will never be part of their world again.

  I parked my car out the back of her place, just off the alley which runs along side the rear of the house. This isn’t a safe place for girls to live. There’s way too much easy access for anyone who wants to come in through the shadows.

  Nobody is there when I push her into the back of my car. She tumbles in, all legs and squeals and I slam the door shut behind her. I can hear her trying the door on the other side, trying to get out, but kiddie locks are useful for containing adults too.

  I get into the driver’s seat and hit the ignition. I have her now. She’s mine for as long as I want her.

  It feels good to have that rush of control over a captive, to know that her world has just shrunk to me, and me alone. I wasn’t planning on taking her when I first came to see her. Even this morning, I still hadn’t made up my mind what to do with her. But once I got close to her. Once I smelled her hair and felt her pulse fluttering under my fingers, then I knew exactly what I was going to do.

  “Please. Let me go. I’ll get you money.”

  This isn’t about money anymore. And she can’t pay me anywhere near what she’s worth to me. It would take a lot of vigils and a lot of crowdfunding to get anywhere close to that number, and I’d still turn it down because some things in this world are priceless.

  “Quiet.”

  I growl the word and she follows the command. After a minute or two, she puts her seat belt on. That makes me smile. She’s being abducted by a dangerous man, but that middle class programming dies hard. I can see the effects of eighteen years of being paranoid about all the wrong things playing out behind me.

  “Where are you taking me?” She ignores my order, bad girl, and asks another question.

  I’m taking her the same place I take people when they’ve reach the end of the line with me. A lot of darkness has taken place there. It will be different with her.

  I have a sadistic urge to break her down, to make her beg, to find the softest parts of her and put myself inside them. I know what she’ll think. She’ll think I’m trying to defile her, but sometimes it’s not about ruining beauty. Sometimes it’s just about touching it, being one with it. I wonder what it will be like to have her wrapped around me, that tight little hole of hers so wet and so sweet.

  There’s no doubt in my mind I’m going to fuck her. More than that, I’m going to ravage her goddamn soul.

  I pull in to the place I do my best work. It’s in an industrial area. There’s an old fireworks factory on one side, and an old soap place on the other. Both of them went out of business years ago. I bought them. Not because I want to make soap or fireworks, but because I want to keep what I do in this building with its thick concrete walls, well away from eyes and ears that might not like what they see and hear.

  The thing I like about these places is that you can drive right up inside them. By the time I park my car, I’m encased in steel and concrete, a small world where I rule completely.

  Before I let her out of the car, I make sure the roller doors are down and locked. Don’t want her running out of here. I want her contained. At my mercy. I want her screams to echo off the insulation and sink into my soul.

  When I get back to the car, she’s gone.

  For a minute, I just stare at the back seat. Then I realize she probably just went out through the front seats and out the driver’s door. Stupid mistake on my part, not locking the car when I walked away. But she’s not going anywhere. The doors are locked, none of the windows in this place open, so she’s just made this harder on herself than it had to be.

  Candice

  “Come on out, little one.”

  His rough voice croons the words and I feel my stomach contract with fear. I am on my hands and knees in what looks like a small office, crouched between an old rusty desk and a beat up filing cabinet.

  The second he got out of the car and walked away was the moment I made my move. I can’t just stay here and get killed or whatever it is he’s going to do. I have to escape.

  I hear his footsteps, heavy boots contacting the floor and getting closer and closer. There aren’t that many places to find in this big empty space. Everything echoes here. It’s like finding myself in the bowels of hell - if hell was kind of cold and had paint chips missing from the walls.

  Squeezing myself further back into the space, I try to think of a way out of this place. There are windows, but most of them are really high up, accessible only by rusty old gantries and stairs. There’s no way to get to them without him seeing me, and even if I did, then I’d still be thirty feet in the air with hard concrete to break my fall.

  Windows are out, then. I heard him close the doors, but maybe there are other doors. A place like this would have had to have more than one exit to meet fire code. But what are the odds he’s left those doors open? All these thoughts feel stupid and redundant, but what can I do except cower and try to think my way out?

  His footsteps are getting louder and closer. The door of this office was open when I darted in here, but it still creaks when he pushes it open wider. I feel like he’s enjoying this, as if he knows exactly where I am and he is just drawing it out, humoring me in some horrific game which is so reminiscent of those I used to play when I was small.

  “You like hide and seek, huh? We can play all day, baby girl. Once I find you, that’s when the real games start.”

  He’s only a few feet away from me, and he’s not raising his voice which tells me he knows I’m close. How many hiding places are there in this junky old office? It’s only a matter of seconds before he finds me.


  “I’ll cut you a deal,” he says, sitting down in the old office chair, which puts his feet inches from mine.I can see his lower legs and his boots. They’re heavy and brutal, but clean. He takes pride in his appearance.

  “You come out now, and I’ll fuck your pussy before I fuck your ass.”

  I stuff my fingers into my mouth to stop myself from whimpering. He’s going to have sex with me. And he’s talking about it so casually and so much like it’s going to happen whether I want it or not, and…

  “Please don’t!”

  Dante

  That worked quick.

  I sit in that chair and I let her freak out in her little hiding spot. I have rope between my hands, a length of hemp I always have in my car. She’s going to feel this on almost every part of her very soon. She deserves everything I’m going to do to her.

  “Please! God. Please! No!”

  She starts begging me for mercy from where she’s squished in between two heavy pieces of furniture. I saw her the minute I walked in here. A flash of blonde hair between dirty old pieces of furniture is a dead giveaway. As is the toe of a pump being hastily pulled back across the floor.

  She dressed up pretty this morning. Short little pink skirt that just barely covers her ass, pink high heels which match, and a white blouse which I think is supposed to be studious, but when she comes out I know it’s going to be a dirty mess. Just like she’s going to be when I’m done with her.

  She thinks I’m the bad guy. She’s right, but I’m not nearly as bad as I could be. She has no idea what almost happened to her yesterday. If not for me, she could have bled out on the side of the road before she even knew I existed.

  We were in the middle of a deal when she drove past, slowed down, and then stopped. She couldn’t see us inside the building, but we always keep an eye on the road, and when a car we didn’t know came rolling up on the block, guns were drawn. Guys started looking for cover. We were ready for a drive by, which is what usually happens when a car starts crawling along out of nowhere.