Chapter 56

The men who pinned me down after my first attempt to escape stood up and picked me up from the ground, holding my wrists behind my back as if I was handcuffed. They pushed me forward to urge me to start walking and I obeyed, only struggling out of instinct. I would've tried to struggle a little harder if I wasn't knocked down by what I just found out. I had been kidnapped by Anton Carmicheal, the bloodthirsty lunatic who gave almost everyone nightmares. Everyone but me. Of course, having always been raised in a coccoon, I had a peaceful sleep and a carefree lifestyle because I was always convinced I was out of evildoers grip thanks to my father's political reputation and the high-tech alarm installed in our house. 

"Come on, bitch!" Urged me one of my captors, his cheap beer-scented breath attacking my nostrills. "Keep going!"

"My name's Joan." I coldly corrected him, thoigh fear made my voice quiet. "Not bitch."

   I first expected him to punch me, but he didn't for some reason. They pushed me forward, my legs suddenly shaking. I paused in my inner thoughts to look up at the building they were taking me to. I was going toward a building which looked like an abandonned house or something. The grey concrete wall blended in efficiantly in the dull grey sky, the windows were closed with planks which seemed not to have been touched in quite a while and the yard was invaded by weed. My high heels screeched against the rocks in the yard, my captor walking toward a heavy wooden door which cringed when they opened it. I straightened up, trying to take in as much as I could. Maybe I could spot somewhere to escape, such as a hidden door, a large hole in a wall or a window left unlocked. I ended up in a hall with clean wooden floor and plain white walls. I was surprised to see how clean it was for a place which looked abandonned from the outside. But I had no time to ponder over it as my captors were pushing me forward again. I started panicking when one of them opened a dark wooden door with a flight of concrete steps.

"Go down there!" Ordered me the other one.

   I was terrified, so I stayed frozen in place for a second. The stairs were cascading down deep into a deep sea of utter blackness. I didn't need to be a genius to know they led to some kind of basement. That was my worst nightmare becoming true: Being trapped inside the typical horror movie basement. They pushed me forward once again, my back straightening as I feared to trip on my high heels and fall down the stairs due to my shaky legs. How we made it downstairs without I collapse was a miracle. Or maybe an anti-miracle, since if I got injured, they'd probably be left with no choice but drive me to a hospital in order not to let Robert MacCarthy's daughter die. My eyes took a few seconds to adapt to the surrounding darkness, allowing me to finally make out the outlines of the only item in the middle of the room: A simple wooden chair.

"No!" I gasped, for once allowing my fear to show.

"Get right in, bitch!" Grunted one of the men as they forced me into the chair, strapping black rubber around my ankles. "The boss's gonna meet you soon."

   I tried to kick his hand away as he was strapping my ankles to the legs of the chair, but I was surprised by the other man who stood behind me, tying my hands together on the back of the chair with rubber. I started to instinctively struggle against my bondages again, feeling like it couldn't get any worst. How wrong I was! The last thing they did before to leave the room was to throw a bag onto my face. Afterward, I heard their footsteps retreating upstairs, accompanied by their laughter and the sound of a door slamming shut. I was left alone in the dark, grieving. The oppressing darkness in the undergroud concrete room was literally suffocating me. I had the feeling to be... I had the feeling to be in a grave!

"Stop!" I whispered to myself, squeezing my eyes shut to hold back my tears of despair. "Don't think like that!"

   But that was difficult not to think like that. Anton Carmicheal! People was talking about him since months on the TV, at the radio or in newspapers. He was exceptionnally good at robbing banks essencially, but also tracking down and kidnapping people and I also heard he was a killer. An extremely sadistic and deranged serial killer at that. Not being the type to believe what was written in the gutter press, even though this one was always avid to provide its readers many rumors about the Carmichael gang and its mysterious leader, I wouldn't have believed any of that if my father hadn't told me himself about the danger this man represented. He had robbed several of the best guarded banks of United States, kidnapped innocent people and murdered them in the most gruesome way. Oh no, was it what he was going to do with me?! What if he tortured me?!?

"Stop!" I repeated to myself, struggling even harder to break free from my rubbery bondages. "Don't think like that!"

   At least, I had heard of how many banks he robbed on the TV, as well as how easy it apparently was for him to leave the police clueless about him. They knew it was him and his gang, but they couldn't catch him and they couldn't find any legal proof to begin a process with. They didn't know where he and his gang were hiding, why they were doing what they did or why those people chosed to follow that madman. In fact, except his name and his actions, nothing was known about the man. CLAC! I immediately stopped wriggling when I heard the basement's door slam shut. I froze, quietly listening through the darkness, as someone suddenly switched the light on. Footsteps were heard, steadily going down the concrete stairs. The visitor paused at the bottom end of the stairs, causing me to tense i  nervous expectation of what my new visitor wanted from me.

"Oh, Miss MacCarthy!" Exclaimed that now well-known low voice which caused me to shiver. "Truly, I'm sorry!"

   Wait, sorry?! Sorry about what?!? Suddenly, realization hit me: I had seen where they were hiding! If I was making it out of this alive, I could tell the police where they were hiding! A criminal as careful as Anton Carmichael wouldn't take that risk. So, did it meant he was planning to kill me?! Desperate to break free, I struggled even harder as I ever did before. I could hear his footsteps approaching and I backed away from him as much as possible, almost flipping my chair down in my need to get away from him. But there was no escape. He reached his hand out and... Pulled the bag off of my head.

"I'm sorry you had to go through this!" He precised, throwing the bag in a corner of the room. "I told my men not to disrespect you."

   Surprise and relief washed over me as I blinked in the yellow-coloured light, getting my eyes used to the light. But clearly not close to let him see how scared I was a few seconds ago, I instead glared at him.

"Yes. You told your men not to disrespect me." I coldly hissed between my clenched jaws. "It seems like locking someone up in a basement strapped to a chair is not disrespectful to you, then!"

"Like I said, Miss MacCarthy, I'm sorry you had to go through all this." He calmly replied, as if he was a complete gentleman. "If you didn't try to escape on the parking lot, I wouldn't have ordered my men to take you to the basement."

"Oh!" I laughed joylessly, shocked by what I was hearing. "Because this is MY fault if you kidnap me and keep me with you against my will?!"

"Why do you have to be..." He paused, looking for the right word before to finish. "Incisive?"

"Difficult not to be incisive when you're strapped to a chair in a basement, talking to a masked man who doesn't even have the curtesy -or guts- to show his face!"

   Anton slowly shook his head, backing up a little. I kept on fixing him with a frozen gaze, my anger helping me not to panick. But a part of me was aware I probably just got myself in big, big troubles. The last thing to do when talking to a man as dangerous as Anton Carmichael was to provoke him... Which I just did. For a second, I expected him to strike me, so I flinched ever so slightly when he raised swiftly his hand. But instead of hurting me, he quickly took his balaclava off and tossed it aside somewhere on the concrete floor. Resting his hands on the armrests of the chair, he leaned closer to me to allow me to see his face. His burning brown eyes were full of defiance, once again planted into mine as if to say So, now that you're seeing my face, are you willing to show yourself more cooperative? I had to say I was surprise. He had fiery brown eyes, a strong masculine jawline and thick shiny black hair just a tiny bit messy from having been underneath his balaclava. Due to that and the bad lightening of the basement, I couldn't exactly tell if his skin tone was as pale as porcelain or if he was tanned. But his skin at least looked smooth.

"Let's begin again, Miss MacCarthy." He said in his masculine huskey voice, looking at me intensely. "My name's Anton Carmichael and I can already ensure you that I have no desire to harm you."

"Yes, I already know who you are!" I dryly snapped, not once breaking eye contact with him. "And if you've got no desire to harm me, then why don't you unfasten me and let me go back home? Mmh?"

"I'm sorry my lady, but I'm afraid I can't let you go back home. You see, we've got a little something to discuss with your father and we'd like to keep you with us until he granted our request, just as a way to make sure he won't do anything stupid." Matter-of-factly explained me Anton, straightening up. "If your father plays by the rules, no harm shall happen to you and you'll be allowed to go back home as soon as we'll be satisfied."

   Lies! A little voice in my head was warning me about the fact that he couldn't let me live with me knowing where he and his gang were hiding. He was probably lying, but another part of me assumed he might also not have thought about it yet. All I had to do then, was to pray he doesn't think about it until I was out of this mess and it was too late for him to do anything. So, I guessed it was better if I just kept quiet about it. I'd be the least of the idiots if I brought to his attention a good reason to kill me!

"Though, know we'll make sure to treat you as right as possible during your stay here." Assured me my captor, straightening his black leather jacket on his broad shoulders. "No doubt, you've got questions I can answer. So don't hesitate to ask, I'm here to answer you."

"Oh, you'll treat me as right as possible during my stay here?" I sarcastically repeated. "Does this mean that you're going to loosen up a little that rubber? I think it's going to mark my ankles."

   He threw his head back, his jaw falling open in a wide grin and he laughed. His low laughter, as much as I hated to admit it, was beautiful to hear.

"Oh Miss MacCarthy, you're so funny!" He exclaimed once his laughter calmed down a bit. "You know, I didn't want things to go that way. You're the only one who did this by trying to escape and by punching me."

   Saying that, he tapped with the tip of his leather-gloved finger at his cheek. Right underneath his right high cheekbone was a deep purple bruise I didn't noticed before. I couldn't help but feel satisfied to know I was the cause of that.

"I asked my men to put you in the basement to make you meditate on your actions. If you behave properly, you'll be treated with every courtesy." He resumed, crossing his arms onto his muscular chest. "Before you do your little attempt to escape, I had planned to put you in a way better place."

"Oh, yes?" I asked, my interest picked. "And could I see it?"

"That depends." Replied Anton, his hands resting once again on the armrests. "Are you willing not to cause anymore troubles?"

   His eyes searched mine for an answer. Being very proud, I felt humiliated by the mere idea of being kind to my kidnapper. But on the other side, maybe if I could get him to trust me, I could have a chance to run away. Or at least, I wouldn't be strapped to a chair anymore in a dark basement. So, I made my decision.

"Yes." I lied.

"Good!" He exclaimed, kneeling to unfasten me. "I'm glad we came upon an agreement!"

   As he knelt to unfasten my ankles from the rubber bands, I was heavily tempted to kick him in the face and try to run upstairs, but I already tried this method and failed. That wasn't prudent. Who could tell what he'd do to me once he'd have captured me again? Not being ready to take the risk, I just waited for him to be done, holding myself back from attacking him. Once he was done, he swiftly stood up.

"Please, allow me." He smiled, reaching his hand out to help me out of the chair.

"Thank you." I coldly thanked him, reluctantly taking his hand.

   He effortlessly lifted me up from my seat, leading me up the stairs. Maybe if I could get him to trust me, I could escape? Maybe I'd find a way to escape in the better place he was taking me to?

"Where are you taking me?" I asked, as innocently as I could.

"In my room. And you shall be staying in this, little sweetface!" He informed, as if he had been reading my thoughts. "Otherwise, I'll tell my men to do whatever they want with you. Understood?"

   Unable to say another word, I just nodded. There was just no way I could escape from his room. The situation escaladated again and not in a good. Truly, I had really been kidnapped by the worst!