Pike (The Pawn Duet #1) - T.M. Frazier Page 0,37

The attached torture starter kit contains everything you’ll need to clean the puss out of all kinds of wounds, including but not limited to those inflicted by: guns, knives, icepicks, shanks, shivs, razor blades, baseball bats covered in barbed-wire, ropes, household lamps, broken Britney Spears CD’s, and children’s toys. I recommend that you take this time to open your kit and familiarize yourself with the contents before engaging in your next abduction. Remember kids, inflicting new wounds won’t be effective if your captive is dying from sepsis. A happy abductor is a prepared abductor.

*Water must be given to the captive every twenty-four hours. Trust me, this will still suck balls for them, but it will keep your captive alive until it’s time for them not to be.

*After four days, food must be offered to your captive. Think healthy and nutritious. Attached, you’ll find the FDA guidelines and regulations for a healthy diet. If you’re reading this in email format, I’ve included links to some of my favorite thirty minutes or less recipes sure to please in any imprisoned-against-their-will situation. Try the pancakes. Yum!

*Any captive held longer than a period of one week must be either killed when the clock strikes midnight on the 5th day or welcomed into the family with open arms. All information about wedding dates and times can be posted on my shared KNOT website. You’ll also find that I made pre-filled wedding registry templates available to you from Amazon, Home Depot, Kinkyshit-R-Us and Weapons Depot, just to get you started.

*Don’t forget the most important rule of all. Have fun! Make this kidnapping a pleasant experience, one you’ll want to remember for years to come. So, get creative! Express yourself while expelling your inner demons at the expense of your captive. Remember, just because your captive isn’t enjoying himself/herself, doesn’t mean that you can’t. They’re fucked, but you won’t be if you follow the aforementioned guidelines.

That’s all, folks.

Remember to help control the pet population, and have your pets spayed or neutered.

Word to your mother,

Samuel Motherfucking Clearwater a.k.a. “Preppy”

Chapter Fourteen

Mickey

“Who wrote this?” I ask, staring down at the words I can’t believe actually exist or that they were just sitting on the passenger seat of Pike’s truck. “A Kidnapper’s Commandments?”

Pike sighs and turns the wheel. We hit a pothole, and I crush the pages in my hand. “A friend of mine wrote it. He’s…been through some shit.”

“Clearly,” I reply, shaking the crinkled pages at him. So, his friends are just like him. Apparently, kidnapping is such a regular thing with them that he found the need to write out guidelines.

“You think that’s bad, you should see the fucking kit,” Pike remarks, rolling down his window and lighting a cigarette.

Realizing I have no idea where we’re going, I grow nervous. “Is this when you start using me as bait?”

“No, that will start back at the pawn shop. I’ll have you sit in the storefront with Thorne. People talk in this town, and if I’m right, then they’ll talk about you. The more people talk, the more word gets around, the more likely your people will know you’re alive and be coming for you.” He looks over at me. “And I’ll be ready.”

“They’re not my people,” I mutter.

“What was that?” he asks.

“Absolutely nothing,” I grumble, staring out the window as the road we’re on grows narrower and the buildings fewer and farther between the we drive further away from Logan’s Beach. Soon, I’m feeling claustrophobic as overgrown brush reaches out from both sides, as if frozen in the middle of trying to swallow us whole.

One of the truck tires dips into a large pothole. I grab hold onto the ‘oh shit’ handle above me to protect my head from colliding with the headliner. “Where are you taking me?” I ask, feeling more and more unease. We’ve long passed civilization and are entering what looks like banjo country.

Pike turns off the sparsely paved road onto a dirt one that’s even bumpier. My butt lifts off then slams back down on the seat several times. We pass under a canopy of trees arching across the road above our heads. Through the leaves, the setting sun twinkles like a thousand pink and orange stars, shedding beauty on an otherwise ominous moment.

“Gotta meet someone,” Pike replies, looking out the windshield appearing lost in thought.

“Why are you taking me with you?”

“What’s with all of the fucking questions?” he asks.

“Maybe, you’re not the only one who likes to torture people?” I say sarcastically.

That earns me an