Stranded with My Stepbrother Chapter 55

-Jacey-

The days passed too slowly and too quickly at the same time. I missed Caleb terribly. and no matter how much Will pleaded with his father, I hadn’t seen Will Jr. once.

At four weeks to the day since I gave birth, Mr. Masterson finally appeared in our bedroom. My heart sank when I saw he didn’t have Will Jr. with him.

“It seems the time has come,” Mr. Masterson grinned at Will and me as we poked our heads up over the covers. “Four weeks. Get to it.”

“Four to six weeks, Father.” Will stifled a yawn to give his father a serious look.

“I’ve decided four was perfectly sufficient. Now get to it,” Mr. Masterson repeated.

“What, in front of you?” Will gaped.

Mr. Masterson sat down in a chair beside the bed. “Yes.”

I scooted across the bed away from Will and Mr. Masterson. That left me trapped in a corner, but there was nowhere else to go.

“Jacey, I’m disappointed. You had four weeks to get your mind around the idea of what was going to happen next, and it seems you didn’t use that time wisely,” Mr. Masterson tsked.

“Dad, please, a little privacy,” Will said, offering me a pillow to cover myself. I’d only been allowed lingerie and bikinis since Caleb was taken.

Mr. Masterson eyed us, then rose, much to my relief. “I’ll let you do it one time without me watching. But I’ll be back. Get her settled.” He looked at Will sharply. “Don’t disappoint me.”

“Yeah, fine, okay,” Will replied. “Just go away. Please.”

With a warning expression, Mr. Masterson left.

Will sat there awkwardly while I stood in the corner, equally awkwardly We were both silent.

“He’s going to the security office to watch us on camera,” Will told me.

“I kind of figured,” I said softly.

“We don’t have a lot of time,” Will continued.

“Will… I can’t. I don’t have anything against you. You’re just not Caleb,” I whispered.

“I know.” Will stood up and headed for the bathroom. “I’ll be out in a bit. You just sit tight.”

There was something funny in his voice. “Will, are you okay?” I asked.

Will gave me a crooked smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “I sure am. Better than I’ve been in a long time.”

“Okay,” I said uncertainly.

Will went into the bathroom and closed the door. I heard the big jacuzzi tub running.

I was grateful Will was giving me as much time as he could. I knew, eventually, Mr. Masterson would be back.

My hands shook as I put the pillow back down on the bed and sat on the edge of the mattress. I didn’t know how I was going to let Will get on top of me and stick his dick in me. I didn’t want to make the experience traumatic for either of us, but I just couldn’t imagine doing anything like that with anyone but Caleb.

I sniffled and tried very hard to hold back my tears. I wished Caleb were there.

After about an hour, with no sign of Will, I was about to knock on the bathroom door and check on him when Mr. Masterson barged in himself.

“Bath time’s over, William,” Mr. Masterson growled. “And just for taking advantage of my good will, I am going to—” he tried the bathroom door handle and it rattled ineffectively. “What the hell? You think barricading yourself in the bathroom is going to put me in a better mood?!”

“Will,” I called, frightened for him. “Just come out. We’ll-We’ll figure this out somehow.”

Mr. Masterson rattled the knob again. “Oh, William. If you think your legs were bad…” He put his shoulder to the door and started banging into it.

The door shook on its hinges but held. It was a rather high-quality oak door.

“Damn that child!” Mr. Masterson took out his phone. “This is Masterson. I need a locksmith or a very beefy thug right now in the Killeen room. RIGHT NOW.”

I huddled myself back in the corner with the pillow protecting my modesty as a handful of men quickly came in. One knelt with what I could only assume was a lockpick set and began working on the door.

The knob finally clicked, and Mr. Masterson turned the handle and pushed, but the door still wouldn’t budge.

A very beefy security man cracked his knuckles and replaced Mr. Masterson at the door. With a grunt and two slams of his shoulder, the door opened with a cracking sound.

“He barricaded the door with a chair from the make-up table, sir,” the beefy thug said, holding the door open for Mr. Masterson. “Please be careful of the debris.”

“I’m going to take the debris and shove it up his rebellious little ass,” Mr. Masterson promised. “Do you hear me, Will? I’m-Will?”

I craned my head. Mr. Masterson’s voice cracked when he said it again. “Will?”

“Get a doctor!” the big thug yelled.

“Will, you goddamn stupid sonofabitch. What have you done?!” Mr. Masterson screamed.

I heard water slosh onto the floor. It soaked across the tile until I could see it myself. The puddle was a deep pink.

“Will!” I shrieked, understanding now what he must have been doing while I’d been trying to prepare myself to have sex with him.

“Will!” Mr. Masterson howled, rage and something else making him hoarse.

“Stay out of the way!” the hefty thug ordered me, shoving me back to the other side of the bed.

The bloody water started to seep out across the hardwood floor of the bedroom itself.

A great deal of sloshing ensued. I supposed they were getting him out of the tub. I felt so helpless, dumbly sitting there, clutching a pillow.

In a matter of minutes, the same doctor who had delivered Will Jr. came pelting into the bedroom, then raced into the bathroom, slipping on the pink water.

I crawled to the edge of the bed again, trying to see what was going on. I couldn’t see, but I could hear.

“He’s not breathing,” Mr. Masterson said.

There was a pause, and then the doctor replied, “Continue CPR. Olaf, get a nurse to bring some type B negative blood. We’ll need to replenish what he’s lost.”

“He’s still not breathing!” Mr. Masterson yelled.

“Sir, I’m going to need you to calm down,” the doctor said. “I’m going to do everything I can, but your son has lost a lot of blood. For now, keep pressure on his wrists.”

My hands flew to my mouth. Will had slit his wrists?!

A few minutes later, a nurse ran in holding IV bags of blood. “I can’t find a vein,” she told the doctor, frustrated.

“He’s not breathing,” Mr. Masterson repeated.

“No,” the doctor said. “He’s not. Nurse, don’t bother. Time of death 10:43 AM. Call for an ambulance pickup.”

“Dead? My son is dead?” Mr. Masterson hissed.

“There’s nothing else to be done, Mr. Masterson,” the doctor replied sadly.

There was a clatter and two more security guards rushed into the bathroom. “Mr. Masterson! Mr. Masterson, you need to calm down, sir!”

“I am going to snap your damn neck!” Mr. Masterson shouted, and I heard a gurgle.

Oh God. Oh God, Will was dead. And the doctor was next.

“Mr. Masterson, get a hold of yourself!” the big thug said. “Think of the cops!”

“Bury him in the woods, six feet deep. I don’t want anyone or anything ever finding him again,” Mr. Masterson responded angrily.

“Your son, sir?” the thug asked.

“No. The doctor.” Then there was a loud bang. A gun blast.

I went back to my corner, scrunching up as small as possible. The doctor was dead. Would Mr. Masterson kill me, too?

“Sir, people will miss him. It would be better if—” the thug began.

“I don’t care. Do as I say. I want him buried in an unmarked grave for all eternity,” Mr. Masterson said.

The thug sighed. “Yes, sir.” He stepped outside the bathroom.

The lifeless body of the doctor was slung over his shoulder. I stared in horror.

“As for William, I will need to make arrangements,” Mr. Masterson sniffed. “We’ll use the same funeral home that we used for his mother. They did an excellent job.”

“The doctor said we need to get an ambulance first,” one of the security guards said. “I worry what will happen if we don’t follow protocol.”

“Then call the coroner we know. I don’t want it known far and wide that Masterson’s son killed himself.” Mr. Masterson came out of the bathroom then. He was covered in pink, bloody water.

I made myself smaller still, hoping to escape his notice. But he looked right at me.

“Get rid of her,” he growled.

“Sir?” the remaining security guards asked.

“You know what I mean. Just get rid of her.” Mr. Masterson waved a hand vaguely in my direction.

The thugs closed in on me. I backed flat to the wall, but there was nowhere to go.

One of them picked me up, and I screamed and kicked and lashed out with my fingernails.

“Do you want to be buried in an unmarked grave, too?” the security guard grunted.

Trembling, I replied, “No.”

“Then knock it off,” he said.

I looked around at the others and saw one was already getting out a syringe.

I stopped resisting. “I’ll be good. Please just make sure Caleb has a place he can visit me.” Tears ran down my cheeks.

The guard carrying me grunted again, and then the three of them carried me out to a black sedan that had already pulled out in front of the mansion.

When the guards opened the trunk, I started struggling again. Inside was a shovel, rope, duct tape, a saw… anything and everything I could imagine that would be used to dismember and dispose of a body.

“Throw her in already,” the thug commanded the other guards.

The next thing I knew, I was in the trunk with a shovel biting into my back.

That wasn’t the worst thing, though. The worst thing was that they duct taped my mouth, wrists, and ankles.

And then threw the doctor’s body in next to me.

I screamed through the duct tape, but of course, no one could hear me. The trunk closed, and I was left in the dark.

As we drove over the packed gravel drive, the doctor’s body bumped against me. I sobbed, wondering what my fate would be.

The car drove for a long time. After a while, the sedan hit bumpy ground then stopped. The trunk opened, and the four guards were there.

“Don’t do anything stupid like start kicking out the taillights. I can still drop you in the river,” the thug informed me. He grabbed the shovel and handed it to one of the guards. Then he heaved up the doctor.

The trunk slammed shut again.

I wondered if I should try to draw attention to my predicament anyway, but the sound of shovel hitting dirt told me I probably shouldn’t.

We were there for what must have been hours. I tried hard not to cry. I tried very hard. I just wasn’t successful.

The trunk lid opened again, and the thug threw in the shovel, sprinkling me with dirt. “Now, you.”

I screamed behind my duct tape gag, but the thug just grinned and shut the trunk lid. I sat in the dark, praying for Caleb. If I was expendable now, then he surely was as well.

The next time I saw daylight, it was actually overhead fluorescents.

“Hup,” the thug said and hefted me over his shoulder, duct tape and all.

We were in a parking garage. I had no idea where.

Wherever it was, the residents knew better than to bat an eyelash when they saw four guards carrying a bound woman getting on the elevator. One lady even suddenly got very interested in her dog.

“Help,” I begged behind my gag. But it just came out as, “Hmph!”

We went up several floors then stopped on the thirty-second. The guards used a keypad next to room 3202, and the door sprung open.

I was unceremoniously dumped on the floor.

“Good luck,” the thug chuckled then closed the door behind him.

I waited three beats, listening for their retreating footsteps down the hall, then wriggled over to the door and used it to help me sit up. I jiggled the handle, but it was no use. Whatever this room was, it was locked from the outside.

I leaned back against the door, wondering how long I could barricade myself in using just my body.

There was a clock on a table near the door, and I watched as half an hour ticked by. Five-thirty PM.

A series of footsteps approached the door.

I closed my eyes and braced my feet against the wall.

When the keypad beeped the code and the door released, I tensed all my muscles, determined to fight until the very end.

The door opened just a crack, but it was enough.

“Jacey?” Caleb breathed. “What are you doing here?”