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Authors' Note: Hello readers! Neen and I are happy to share with you some of our adult stories! Starting with The Hostage, we will be introducing some mature stories to FictionPress. Of course we'll continue to post the T- and M-rated romance fiction we're known for, but hope to entertain a new audience as well as our dedicated followers with some adult fiction. Enjoy! We're interested to hear how you enjoy The Hostage!
~ Jo of J-Time
Chapter One: A Failed Attempt
To say that things were going poorly for Jason Westwood was an understatement. The stresses of life people suffered revolved around the superficial; rent was increasing along with taxes and gasoline. People were being laid off from their jobs, forced to claim welfare and bankruptcy. Had Jason only been suffering from something along those lines, he might have had a better outlook on life. Unfortunately for the twenty-six year old, those were only the start of his problems.
He job-hopped, averaging three months per occupation before getting fired for one thing or another. If it wasn't his lack of attendance, it was his work ethic, and if it wasn't his work ethic it was his inability to care- about anything. He blamed everyone but himself, but that was normal for his type of situation. Riddled with bipolar disorder, a drug addiction, and enough social problems to add a chapter to a medical journal, Jason had finally hit rock bottom.
There wasn't much to think about as he loaded the gun he'd gotten from the same friend he was subletting his apartment from. He put the safety on—he wasn't crazy, after all, just desperate—and shoved it into the waist of his pants before fixing his shirt over it with shaky movements. He raked his black hair back, his piercing green eyes eyeing his reflection in the mirror. Average enough for no one to remember him— something he'd never taken for granted until this moment. Just get in and get out, he told himself for the umpteenth time. You can do this. You can fucking do this.
With a ratty duffle bag hung over his shoulder by the short handle, Jason entered the bank.
It seemed that Jason had picked the perfect time to enter that particular bank. Being a Wednesday afternoon, just after the local private high school let out, there was no one to be found within the bank except for the employees, a pair of business men and one seventeen-year-old brunette at the teller counter, withdrawing some funds from her and her parents' joint account. Tristan Barton had always been well-off; everything had been provided for her throughout her life: the best education, the best birthday parties... and strangely enough, her personality was far from spoiled. She had yet to need even a part-time job, but she did live on a weekly budget (provided, of course, by her wealthy parents) to cover her need for a social life.
Every Wednesday, Tristan stopped at the bank to withdraw money and some of the tellers even knew her by name. She was memorable simply because of her weekly visits.
She waited patiently at the counter for the teller who had been helping her to finish her withdrawal transaction, her forearms braced against the ledge and her brown eyes fixed out the ceiling-high windows that formed the front wall to her right. The parking lot was empty, as usual, and she took no notice of the young man in the midst of making his way through the front glass door.
"Okay, sweetie. I just need a signature right here and you're all set," the teller announced, setting a bi-layer receipt down on the counter top along with a pen and Tristan's returned debit card.
Jason had no intention to being subtle. His plan of action was to get in and out, but he hadn't cared if the six or so people inside knew he was armed or not. As long as he kept an eye on everyone in the building it would be fine. He might not have been the smartest guy , but he knew enough to think he could pull off the robbery. He had debts to pay and they were the kind jail didn't scare off.
Putting his plan into motion, Jason approached a teller at the far end, interrupting the transaction taking place between herself and one of the two business men. The man looked startled and annoyed, placing his hand over his account balance that was laid out between himself and the teller. "Excuse me," he began, though Jason promptly cut him off as he demanded of the young male college teller. "Where's the supervisor?"
The teller slowed in counting some bills behind the counter and shook his head. "Left early today. I'm sorry, sir… that woman can help you if you want. She's the head teller."
Jason didn't even wait for the man to finish his sentence about getting back into line. Instead he raised his shirt from his belt, revealing the gun and pointing to it to silently threaten the teller as he reached for the back of the business man's neck to keep him from moving. He tossed the dufflebag onto the counter in the process. "Climb over here," he instructed. " Over the counter." He needed to make sure the young man wouldn't trip any alarms. Next, he turned to look at the woman who was in charge and the girl she was helping. "Ma'am, we need some help!" he called over, hiding the gun again.
Only able to assume there was a rude customer within the bank, the older teller who had been helping Tristan handed her a thin stack of twenty dollar bills with a polite, "Have a nice day," before turning to eye the scene that was unfolding a short distance away. Yet what she saw alerted her to the fact that it was not simply some unruly patron; something was most definitely amiss. Her years of experience and gut instinct had her heart pumping suddenly. As discretely as she could manage, her hand disappeared from sight and she blindly reached for the hidden alarm trigger underneath her side of the counter.
Tristan looked up from slipping her money into her wallet and snapping it shut, she too realized that something didn't seem right. The man was too fidgety. The bank had grown eerily quiet. Casually, she stepped back from the counter, as if she'd taken no notice of what was occurring, and began to turn to head for the bank entrance, even as her pulse began to climb in vague panic.
...what's going on?
The sight of the young girl's pace quickening (though intentional or not) caused panic to begin to set in. Jason eyed the other teller and as her hand slipped out of sight, he fumbled quickly to pull out his gun and aim it at the woman as he barked over to Tristan and the woman. " Stop!" When the woman grew still and tensed, he finally let his attention slip to the young girl. "You!" he called over, moving the gun between the teller and the teenager. "Get down. Right there. Hands where I can see them!"
He looked to the woman, licking his lips as it began to set in what he was really doing. His own features twisted as he reconsidered, but knew it was far too late. Attempted robbery would get him jail time as well.
The sight of a gun felt surreal to Tristan and stiffening where she stood, she quickly lifted her hands from her sides and shifted on her feet fearfully, his order escaping her consciousness for the time being. This wasn't supposed to happen... she was just supposed to stop at the bank on the way home like she did every Wednesday... why was this happening?!
Swallowing hard, the female teller obediently lifted her hands, silently cursing her lost chance at alerting the police.
"Fuck," he cursed aloud, turning and pulling the business man along. A quiet uneasy yelp from the man reminded him that his tight hold on his neck remained and he grunted as he shoved the man forward and down to the ground. "Sit there!" he ordered, quickly keeping alert as he instructed the other man to sit beside him on the ground with their backs to the teller counter.
He waved Tristan to approach him, finding another use for her. "You come here," he ordered, watching as the younger teller finally climbed over the counter awkwardly and dropped to the floor to hesitantly sit with the two men. The female teller was constantly in the corner of his eye. "You get over here. I want you sitting," he instructed to her.
Gritting her teeth, the female teller made her way around the end of the counter she was close to with her hands visibly raised and finally, she joined the three seated men, her eyes fixed uneasily aside.
Tristan hesitated, but only for a short second, and slowly crossed over toward the young man with the gun, unease and fear clear in her features. She didn't dare say a word, scared of saying anything that might cause the man to snap, and with her hands still lifted she came to a stop a foot from where he stood.
"What are you doing?!" Jason suddenly shouted as one of the business men made a move as if to reach into his jacket.
"N-nothing!" he stammered, shielding his face with his hands, fearful of the gun Jason pointed so directly at each of them. "I... I thought you wanted our wallets..."
The cash the handful of patrons had on hand was far from Jason's mind. "You," he stated as he turned to watch the young uniform-clad girl ahead of him. "Go around and fill that bag."
He knew enough to know that he couldn't get into the safe and truthfully he wasn't looking to score that big. He didn't want to wait around that long anyway. What he wanted was to empty all the teller drawers. "Get whatever keys she's got on her," he instructed, backing up a little to keep an eye on all of them as he wiped at his brow. "-and get the keys to lock the front door!" At least this girl wouldn't know where the alarm trips were.
"Lock the front door!" he barked, a crude and impatient laugh erupting from him at how slow she was. "Don't look at me!" he next instructed one of the men.
As Tristan turned to do as instructed, Jason began to back up and follow her, the gun aimed at the seated people though he kept close out of fear that Tristan may try to flee the bank. That would be a mistake.
He moved close enough to her to grab her, aware he wouldn't shoot through the bulletproof glass of the bank's entry.
He turned his head only enough to speak to her, a hand coming out to fit tightly around her wrist to keep her close as he whispered, though his attention remained entirely on the group on the floor. "You're going to walk around the counter and open all the registers and put the cash in the bag. Then I'm going to let you go- but if you try anything, I will shoot all these people before shooting you. Do you understand?"
Jason had to remain on the bank floor with his eyes on the people there, though he was carefully watching Tristan due to her close proximity to the alerts. "Put one hand in the air," he told her. "You can do the rest with the other." He was so fearful of getting caught he missed the business man's hand slipping just inside his suit jacket to hit the panic mode on his cell phone; a silent and GPS enabled alert.
Jason met her to grab the bag, eyeing the money within to make sure it was enough and he swallowed at the sight of it all. He reached out and took two stacks, shoving them in his pockets. The rest he left in the bag. He needed to feel the money, really understand that he'd succeeded and he'd be on his feet again in no time. It was definitely enough to keep him out of trouble for a long while. He didn't think he would ever need to do anything so drastic again, but it needed to be done. "Okay..." he began, clearing his throat as he looked to the front doors and then the back. Banks didn't exactly have back doors. "Go and, um... unlock the doors," he told Tristan, nodding for her to obey as he shifted his hold on the money and shook the gun at her.
Jason backed up with her, his attention forward on the unmoving clump of people. His back bumped her side but he didn't care. He had his money and he was getting out of there! What he failed to see was a uniformed police officer heading toward the building cautiously.
A call had come over his radio while he wrote up a parking ticket just down the street and since the call hadn't been specific to the emergency, he hadn't yet called for any backup. What he saw, however, made him silently curse himself.
Tristan was terrified. This was the most dangerous situation she'd ever been in. Desperate, she said, "Are... you going to hurt us?"
Jason's mind was reeling. He was going to let them go, but not until he was safely away. "Go sit down," he told her, ignoring her question for the most part. They could figure it out for themselves when he left.
Just as Tristan cautiously moved around him, however, he locked eyes with the policeman trying to stay a bit back, though his gun was drawn. He dropped the money without hesitation and grabbed Tristan's arm, yanking her roughly in front of him as he swiftly brought the gun to her temple. He said nothing, only stared through the glass at the man who began to quickly realize the situation was more dangerous than he'd expected.
Never, in her entire life, had Tristan ever been as scared as she was in that instant. The cold metal of the gun against the skin of her temple made every muscle and fiber of her body tense as she stared blindly ahead, unable to even see with how worried she was over her life. A worried sound left her lips, though she tried her best to stifle it, and holding her breath, she shut her eyes as tight as she could, bracing herself for whatever action he might have been about to take.
The man began to lower his gun outside, stepping back to show he wanted no part of the cause of Tristan getting hurt. "Put it down!" Jason shouted through the unlocked but still closed door. The man stepped back, slowly bending to set the gun on the pavement, though remained in sight, prepared to take action if Jason showed he was going to hurt the young girl.
"Please..." Tristan finally whispered thoughtlessly, tensing up even more if it were possible as she pressed her back to his chest. It was obvious she was just a high school student... and he seemed at most ten years older than herself. If he killed someone, he would be tried an even greater offense- didn't he know that?!
"Pick up the bag," Jason ordered, his eyes on the man outside as he readjusted the tight hold he had on her arm. "Open the door."
Hesitantly and with slow movements, she began to crouch to feel around for the handles of the duffel bag before she carefully stood back up. "Don't- don't kill me..." she pleaded quietly, even as she reached for the door handle.
"Get me the fuck out of here with my money and I won't have to," he muttered harshly beside her ear, his hot breath scratching the side of her face as they began to move through the door.
She was silent at first, but only due to shock. When she they stepped out onto the street, Tristan felt a desperate urge at the sight of the uniformed man. "Help!" she screamed, doing the only thing she could thing of and swinging the heavy bag at her captor's head. "He has a gun!" She dropped the duffle.
"Fuck, you stupid bitch!" Jason shouted over her, shaking her roughly and putting his hand with the gun against his head. It hadn't hurt so much, but it had been unexpected and caught him off guard.
Tristan stumbled from his rough shake and kicked, watching the dark bag roll down the steps of the bank and land at least fifteen feet away. Now he would have to let her go! He would give up on holding her and go after the money!
"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" Jason continued, looking around in panic as more onlookers began to flee or shout at the sight of his gun. Aware he was out of time and the sound of sirens blaring as the police rushed to the scene, Jason simply tugged Tristan's arm and began to pull her backwards quickly with him, painfully leaving the money on the sidewalk. It was just too close to the officer now and people were shouting...
"N-no! Let me go!" Tristan quickly argued in panic as he began to pull her backwards with him, stumbling as she momentarily lost her footing. He should release her!
He ignored her. Once they backed around a building Jason put the point of the gun to her back instead to hide it from view and muttered tensely as he felt his life now threatened. "We get caught and you're dead."
At that point, she was desperate to find something to say to make him change his mind. "...y-you can get away faster without me," she promised in a hurried and fearful whisper. "I won't say anything- to anyone... I swear..."
"Don't say another word!" he barked, quieting himself as a few passers by eyed him at his seemingly sudden outburst. Soon he pushed a set of car keys into her hand and began to hurry with her down another street. "The black- yeah, that one. Get in. You're driving."
"I... I don't have my license yet." It was a thoughtless comment and against his order moments ago, but her voice wasn't listening to rationality at the moment. She took the keys regardless and eyed the car they were in the midst of approaching. Fumbling once again with yet another set of keys, she somehow managed to unlock the passenger side door; she was to climb over the middle into the driver's seat so she could be within reach at all times.
He never once released her arm, his grip even beginning to ache at how tightly he held her. No doubt she was bruised, but that was the last thing on his mind. As she began to stutter a question about where they were going, he shut her up as he slammed the side of the gun down on the dash (albeit an unsafe move). "Just drive!"
Struggling not to appear as if they were trying to get away, she pulled away from the curb and shakily kept her eyes fixed forward.
Jason was intent on being as safe as possible at the moment. All that money was gone; the robbery had been for no more than the measly cash in his pockets! He could have turned over a convenience store for that much! He would be a wanted man but with no payoff.
He was careful to lead her around in a few circles, but at the same time he knew he had to get off the roads. Finally he lead her into the back of his apartment complex; a rundown building that had more rats than tenants in the nine story building. "Nice and slow," he told her, panicking now that he feared she might try to get away because it seemed they had stopped someplace.
Tristan had no idea where they were... and what was worse, she wouldn't know how to find help if she tried to run! She stared up at the building he forced her towards and once they were inside, she felt her fear begin to rise. "...are you... are you gonna let me go?" she asked, or rather pleaded as they came to a stop in front of the rather unsafe looking elevator.
Though he still had the gun readied and able to be aimed and fired on a whim, once they were locked inside his apartment, she easily began to back away from him toward the other side of the room.
Though the gun was loaded, the safety had never been taken off (even when the officer arrived) - he'd never before used a gun! He didn't know the first thing about actually firing it at someone. He let out a weak laugh as he felt faint, shaking his head as he stared down at it and laughed awkwardly as he clicked his finger against the unmoving trigger as if to laugh with Tristan over his stupid mistake.
It startled her when her back hit the wall and the last thing she felt like doing was laughing. Her eyes stayed fixed on him, only leaving his body to glance around the immediate area for something to defend herself with. The first thing she saw that seemed heavy enough was a table lamp just a foot away and somewhat uncoordinated, she managed to grab it and yank the plug from the wall before throwing it at him as forcefully as she could manage. Then, without even waiting to see if it even hit him, she tore off toward the first open doorway she spotted.
It began to dawn on him that he'd taken someone and aware they wanted to be anywhere but with someone who had just tried to rob a bank, Jason got a hold of himself. He ceased laughing and began to chase her, his teeth tightly grit as he took off after her. "There's only one way out of this apartment!" he called after her loudly, his entire floor and the one beneath him vacated due to extermination and lack of anyone's desire to live in the building. "You want me to hunt you down, do you?"
A panicked breath escaped her lips as she swung herself through the open doorway and reached out to shut the door behind her, hurrying to lock the knob. Yet when her fingers felt no lock, she swallowed hard and instantly began backing away from the closed door before turning to head for the window she saw instead. Upon reaching it, however, she was quick to recall that they were nine stories up. "Fuck!" she cursed breathlessly.
He pushed open the door and smirked at the sight of her. There really was no way down. No emergency fire ladder or even a ledge to sneak out on. The building was that old.
"You found my bedroom," he announced, an idea hitting him as he crossed over to his dresser while keeping an eye on her to make sure she didn't try to run again. He took out the pair of handcuffs he had and held them low at his side out of sight for the moment. "I'm not going to shoot you if you listen to me."
Tristan felt completely cornered where she stood with her back to the window, distrust and uncertainty still in her stare as she watched him. "...what?" she breathed out, forcing herself to hear him out because of his promise.
Jason didn't move, but instead remained standing and hid the handcuffs from sight, though played it off as if he were showing he was good on his word.
"Come over here," he told her, waving the gun toward his thigh for her to move closer.
If she moved closer, it was possible he would shoot her... but the same stood true if she kept her distance. Hesitantly, but not without a brief glance toward the gun he held every few moments, she stepped closer, though it was obvious by her movements that she was ready to fight her way out of his reach were he to retract his promise.
Jason remained quiet for the moment. She was obeying (though a little too slowly for his liking) so he let her be. "Closer," he instructed until she stood on the opposite side of the bed. "Give me your arm."
Her brows knit further in distrust though within a few long moments time, she slowly extended her arm toward him, ready to jerk it away if need be.
Holding the open handcuffs in a practiced way, Jason was able to bring them up quickly and close one end around her wrist, using the moment or two of confusion she showed to tug her arm to the side to cuff the other end around the iron of his headboard. She wasn't going anywhere.
"That bed came with the apartment," he announced smugly, watching her where she was now handcuffed across the bed so she stretched out uncomfortably on her stomach in disbelief.
When she gained the sense to do so, she quickly pulled forcefully at the cuff around her wrist, wincing painfully as it pressed into her skin just deep enough to avoid cutting into it. She managed to somehow push herself up to sit, shaking her head as she eyed him and moved as far away from his side of the bed as possible. "Just let me go!" she shouted at him rather than pleaded this time.
Jason began to walk toward the door to another room, turning briefly to glare over at her. "Put yourself in my position!" he shouted in return. "You know where I fucking live, can ID me, and I don't have the money I expected to have to get away scott free! You're not going anywhere." -And with that he closed the door between them.