The Challenge

“Ilsa, wake up.”

The voice wouldn’t let her sleep.

“Wake up, Ilsa. You lost.”

She tried to reach for her pillow to pull it over her head and block out the annoying voice that seemed intent on dragging her back to wakefulness, but something was wrong. There was no pillow. When she tried to reach up and feel for it with her hand she found her wrists were tied together. Her eyes flew open as the shock of her unfamiliar situation jolted her awake and she found herself looking into familiar steely blue eyes.

“Hey,” Guerrero said, smiling down at her. “I gotcha.”

“Mr Guerrero! What on earth is going on?” A quick glance at her surroundings revealed that she was lying, bound hand and foot no less, in the trunk of Guerrero’s car.

“Give it a moment.” He laughed. He was clearly enjoying himself. “It will come back to you. I had to slip you a little something to keep you quiet. It tends to be a little disorientating when you first come round.”

Guerrero let her lie in the trunk for a while so she could put the pieces of her memory back together unaided. She tried to sit up but found she was wedged in in such a way that she couldn’t get out of the vehicle without Guerrero‘s help.

“Mr Guerrero, I demand that you get me out of this trunk this instant!”

“Not until you remember what this is all about.” He said firmly.

Ilsa craned her neck to try and see where they were. The car was parked up in some kind of warehouse, she could just make out the dusty panes of glass of a large window in the distance and the place smelled musty and disused. She could make out the shapes of what she thought were probably shelving units and in the dim light from the bare bulbs hovering in the darkness she could see Guerrero sitting on a faded old couch. He was eating, as per usual. It looked like a sandwich of some sort.

“I really have no idea! I must protest…”

“What’s the last thing you do remember.” Guerrero interrupted between bites of his sandwich.

Ilsa thought for a moment.

“We were at the office.” She said. Fragments of memory were floating back to her now.

“And?”

“We had just closed a case. It was something about a home invasion?”

Guerrero nodded, finishing his sandwich.

“The Mulvaney family! Of course! Chance found out where their son was being held after he was kidnapped during a home invasion! Mr Mulvaney was so grateful he brought over a whole case of twenty year old Irish whiskey!”

“See, I told you it would come back.”

“But I don’t see why…oh!” Suddenly she remember the conversation she’d had with the team back at the office.

They’d all sat for a while enjoying a taste of the fine Irish whiskey the client had given them. The topic of conversation had turned to home security and Ilsa had boasted that she had the finest security system in the world in her home and that she was grateful she would never have to face the terror of being dragged from her bed in the middle of the night by an armed madman. Guerrero and Ames had both laughed at her and insisted that there was no such thing as a perfect security system. Winston and Chance had tried to be a little more diplomatic and assured her that she was perfectly safe as long as Guerrero wasn’t the one trying to get into her home. She’d laughed it off, satisfied that her state of the art security system and small staff of guards would be more than a match for anyone with ideas about breaking in to her home.

But as she was leaving Guerrero had followed her into the elevator.

“You’re not safe you know.” He’d said to her. “No one ever really is. You just have to be ready for anything. You can’t put your faith in a security system.”

She’d laughed and said she’d bet him anything he liked that no one would be able to abduct her from her own home.

“Anything?” He’d asked her. His raised eyebrow and thoughtful look gave her a momentary concern but she was feeling a bit light-headed and overconfident, thanks to the whiskey, so she laughed again.

“Anything at all Mr Guerrero!” She repeated. “Anything at all!”

“Good to know.” He smiled.

Ilsa had thought no more about it as her driver picked her up and drove her home. She had retired to bed without another thought of her conversation with Guerrero. Until now.

“This isn’t about that silly little bet is it?” She tried to sound amused by the idea but in truth she was worried about that promise of giving Guerrero anything he liked.

“That ‘silly little bet’ was an insult, Ilsa.” He said walking to the car and standing over her. “I don’t think you really have much respect for me or the things I do.”

“Mr Guerrero! That’s not true at all!” Ilsa protested as her stomach seemed to do a back-flip. She realised too late that she’d unintentionally issued Guerrero with a challenge, the implications of which went far beyond whether or not he could beat her home security system. Guerrero smiled but this did nothing to soothe Ilsa’s growing feeling of apprehension.

“You can’t lie to me Ilsa. That’s not the way this works.”

He reached down and hauled her unceremoniously from the trunk. Ilsa couldn’t help but be impressed as well as frightened by the ease with which he picked her up and slung her over his shoulder, carrying her away from the car. She’d seen Guerrero fight so she knew he was stronger than he looked but it was a different matter entirely to experience that strength first hand. Her silk nightgown offered her modesty little protection and Guerrero’s calloused hands gripped the bare flesh of her legs. She made a half-hearted attempt to wriggle free from his grip but she knew it wouldn’t really achieve much as her hands and feet were still tied. Making a run for freedom wasn’t really an option. Guerrero chuckled and tightened his grip.

He carried her twenty yards or so across the warehouse before dumping her back on her feet. He lifted her arms above her head and handcuffed her to a metal ring set into the wall of the building before cutting the cable ties that had bound her wrists together. He then repeated the process with her ankles, making sure to shackle her to the wall before cutting the cable ties so as to avoid the possibility of Ilsa kicking out at him.

“Mr Guerrero, I’m truly sorry that you feel I have somehow called in to question the effectiveness of your professional skills. That was not my intention at all!”

“Bullshit.”

“Well, okay, pride got the better of me. I didn’t believe you could get past my security system and you have very effectively proved me wrong. I submit, Mr Guerrero. You have shown me the error of my ways and I am truly sorry. I don’t think any further demonstration of your talents is necessary, do you?”

“You submit?” Guerrero asked grinning at her.

Ilsa blushed, cursing her poor choice of words. The implications of submitting to Guerrero whilst being chained to the wall, wearing nothing but a silk nightie and her panties, combined with the forfeit of giving him ‘anything at all’ were suddenly very clear to her.

“Need I remind you that I am your employer?” She tried to sound imperious and in control of the situation. It wasn’t working.

“A guy like me never has trouble finding work.” He chuckled. “I stick around because Chance wants me to.”

“And what would Chance think of you kidnapping me in the middle of the night and chaining me to a warehouse wall?”

Guerrero shrugged. “He’d understand. He hates it when people try and welsh on a bet.”

“And what about Mr Winston?” She demanded, aware that her voice was becoming shrill with panic. “Do you really think he would approve of what you’re doing here?”

Guerrero burst out laughing.

“Since when have I given even a second’s thought to what Winston thinks?”

“So what happens now?” Ilsa demanded, jutting her chin towards him defiantly. “You’re going to do what exactly? Torture me? Rape me?”

Guerrero suddenly became very still and serious.

“I’ve never forced a woman in to sex in my life and I’m not about to start now Mrs Pucci.”

Ilsa felt a moment of relief before she realised that she had made an accusation that had hurt more than Guerrero’s professional pride.

“So what does that leave, Mr Guerrero? Torture?”

“Let’s stick to calling it a demonstration.” Ilsa shivered at the cold look in Guerrero’s eyes. “I will hurt you but I won’t do anything to you that will cause any lasting damage. That’s not a courtesy I’ve offered anyone before Ilsa.”

She swallowed nervously.

“This really isn’t necessary…” Her voice trailed away as he pulled a black scarf from his pocket and stepped towards her. He blindfolded Ilsa with a practiced ease that chilled her. She heard the click as Guerrero popped open a switchblade and she felt her entire body break out in goose bumps. She felt him draw nearer and tried to focus on his assurance that he would do nothing to her that would cause lasting damage. Unfortunately her imagination was running wild with painful and humiliating scenarios that would still fall short of Guerrero breaking his word.

Ilsa felt a tug at one of the straps of her nightgown then the other, and felt the silk negligee drop silently from her body leaving her naked but for her panties. She gasped as the cool air hit her naked body.

“Mr Guerrero! You said…”

“I’m not going to force you Ilsa.” She could practically hear the grin on his face and blushed as she pictured him leering over the sight of her all but nude. “Until you beg me to rip them off, your pretty lace panties are staying exactly where they are.”

“Thank you.” Ilsa winced as the words slipped out of their own accord. She heard Guerrero chuckle.

Then there was silence. She listened for some clue as to what was going to happen next but she heard nothing but the very distant sound of traffic on what sounded like the freeway. She couldn’t so much as hear the sound of Guerrero breathing. The minutes ticked by in what seemed like hours and Ilsa had never felt so alone and yet so utterly exposed in all her life.