Capture Me

Kidnapped in Stilettos

           
The padded, red walls of the room were silent but constantly disturbed by the whooping of people and music from the outside. With the light glaringly bright, Thalia could clearly see the hole that the knife punctured, as Rodrigo's head was turned side-ways due to the knife's impact.

The killer walked to Perez's dead body, snapping images of the stabbed man with his phone's camera. After, he put his phone in the back-pocket of his black jeans and kicked the dead man in the gut. He bent and pulled the embedded knife out of his temples, and without any emotion whatsoever, he easily chopped one wrist.

She covered her mouth with her free hand to prevent herself from gagging and leaving a vomit on the already messy flooring. "What are you doing? The man's already dead!" Her wary eyes followed his movement—like a blood thirsty animal who was guarding its kill.

He kept his back to her as he chopped the other which resulted to spurts of blood from the severance, wiped the knife on the dead man's clothes to clean, and then turned to face her. "He fucking touched you," he growled, infuriated.

The click of the knife being returned in its holster was rather loud in such noisy environment.

Pale blue eyes clashed with her brown ones, his lips a straight line as he clenched his jaw.

"That's none of your business." She ground her teeth, eyes skittering to find an escape.

"YB, stat report." She nearly jumped at the sound of her superior's voice.  "Your com was all static."

She didn't talk so as not to blow the cover of her team.

"YB,"

"Thalia, just walk casually out the door, we're ready." It was Jesse's voice this time.

She breathed through her mouth to prevent the bile that was threatening to come out due to the nauseating, metallic smell of the blood that was slowly spreading on the carpeted floor.

She made a move towards the door, but didn't even had the chance to take a step when he talked.

"It is my business and we're talking about it after we get out of here." He grabbed her arm and hauled her to the window, wide enough to let a person through. "The fire exit stairs are just an arm's length from here."

"Who's that?" Her boss was somewhat already shouting in her com.

"Thalia!" As well as Jesse.

She tried to shake him off, but his steel-like grip made her efforts futile. "I'm not going anywhere with you!" she yelled, knowing that the music outside was loud enough to cover her voice.

Thalia attempted to punch his throat to temporarily disable him, to get out from his grasp, but alas, he was faster and bound her to hand behind her back.

The blue-eyed man took her earpiece out, crushed it with his unoccupied hand and pocketed it. "Nara, baby, don't be difficult." He tugged her, but she planted her stiletto-encased feet on the ground and didn't move. Sighing, he snatched her off her ground and sat her on the windowsill.

She glared at him. "Stop calling me that."

He glared back. "Thalianara, get to the stairs now." He growled.

Thalia complied, stomping as she went. The air outside the club helped her nausea ease a little, but not her pounding heart. To see him again, the gods above must be playing with her.

Black heels clanked with the metal steps of the stairs as she carefully fitted her them to the bars and not the space between them. She wiped her sweaty nape with her palm and let out an exasperated sigh. "I can't believe I'm being held hostage while trying to escape a three-floor building in a fire exit, wearing stilettos," she murmured as she tried to distract herself from the swirls of emotions and the adrenaline that were making her want to pull out her gun and shoot the unexpected rescuer/plan-crasher asshole on both knees.

The man behind her didn't say anything until they were beside a sleek black Aston Martin. "Get in." He took her left hand and led her to the passenger's side.

Again, she resisted and punched him in the face. The man recovered quickly—too quickly that she didn't see it coming— and restrained both of her hands again.

She shrugged his hold but it did nothing. "Fucking let go," she said, trying once again to take his hands off her arm.

He opened the car's door, but she batted it close with her leg.

"Stop struggling and get in the fucking car." He nudged her to go in, but she remained on her spot. "Nara, I swear to God, you're going to get us both killed with your stubbornness." He pressed her against the car door. They were so close that air has little space to pass between them.

The heat coming from his body muddled Thalia's thought process for a bit but, she managed to focus and scrub the urge to feel his lips with hers. The way his eyes darken told her thay he thought of the same thing, and it almost made her throw her resolve out the window.

"Get off my face." She managed to tell him, weakly.

His hold on her arm loosened, enabling her to put her palms between them to act as a wall.

"Can we talk about this later? We have no time. His men outside will discover his body soon if they have not already." Though he had said they had no time, he made no move, his eyes skimmed through her face, noted how full her lips were, how breathtaking those eyes were. The man felt his body inch closer to her as his gaze drowned in her chocolate-hued ones.

"No, we will not talk of anything, because I will go home and never see you again." She pushed his crowding chest.

The man just stared at her, not even moving a millimeter.

She punched his chest hard, that seemed to get the wind out of him making him falter for a few seconds, and that was an enough time for Thalia to get away from him and escape.

Sadly, he was still faster. One hand shot out to snake around her middle and slammed her back to the car. "You have two choices, I carry you and toss you in the backseat or you go in the passenger's side willingly. Take your time, we might not be able to see the next sunrise if we stay here for another minute." He intended to make his remark sarcastically but instead, it came out husky and needy.

She just stared at him, crossed her arms over her chest, daring him to do his threat.

Oh, that pouting, defiant mouth that he just wanted to kiss.

He sighed, stepped back—pulling her with him—opened the car's door and pushed her in, careful not to bump her head on something despite her protests, closed the door and ran to the other side.

The blue-eyed man wasted no time. He put the vehicle in gear and raced out of the lot.