Hi everyone, sorry about the long wait, I went on holiday but here is the next part! And Ryan becomes involved now yay (by the way, the picture is of him)

Also there will be changes in the pov throughout from now on :)

Olivia’s POV

“Well hello, hello, hello, what do we have here boys?” The man with the knife says as they fan out around me, his rough accent penetrating the chilly air.

He is tall, beefy and fair haired, that’s all I can see in the dim light. The guy on his right is shorter, fatter and possibly younger, while the third man appears middle aged and skinny, but no less menacing with a dark cap pulled down over his face.

Looking at them I feel like I’m trapped in some sort of crappy mafia movie.

Except that this is actually happening in real life.  

“It looks like we have a pretty little girly, just wanting a bit of fun,” The short, fat one laughs cruelly and I shiver. Fun? Oh god, please don’t let him mean what I think he does.

They stop about a foot away from me and I hold out my hands as if to pacify them. Taking a deep breath for courage I find my voice and try to reason with them, “Look, I don’t have anything on me. No money, no bag. I can’t give you anything. I’m sorry, please just let me go.”

Of course, I’m not really expecting this tactic to work and it doesn’t.

The fat one merely sniggers again and says, “You have plenty you can give us baby, don’t worry.”

I feel a sickening lurch in my stomach as the first burly guy joins in laughing; licking his lips, but interestingly the quiet, thin man remains impassive to their suggestion.

Instead, he tilts his head and appraises me. “What’s your name girly?” He asks, keeping his voice low.

“Olivia,” I squeak.

“Olivia who?”

“Olivia Kendridge,” I answer; curious as to why he cares.

He muses for a second, pulling on his lip and then shakes his head, “Nah that family name doesn’t ring any bells. She isn’t any use to us. Do what you want with her boys,” He tells the other two as he turns and heads back towards the van.

Use? Why isn’t my family name of any use? What does that mean?

I do not have much time to work it out as the fat guy suddenly advances on me, leering as he takes in my long legs, bared by my stupid small dress. The beefy, blonde man approaches me on the other side and I almost throw up in my mouth as I can easily imagine what they’d like to do with me.  

Beefy guy’s hand lands on my hip and he raises the knife, pressing it softly to my neck. The metal is cold and uncomfortable against my skin, but it does not cause any pain yet.

Oh what a subtle threat…

I flinch away regardless of my sarky inner voice, but then realise I have somehow been backed up against the wall of one of the warehouses. “Please don’t do this,” I whisper, terrified, but also ashamed of my pathetic reaction.

The blonde only sneers at me, bares his teeth and says to his friend, “Me first mate.” The implication sends me into a tailspin of panic. I become paralyzed by fear and my limbs are so weak and shaky that I feel I may fall over

“Come on my beauty, don’t be afraid,” Fatty breathes, only unsettling me further.

‘My beauty’? I look at him in disbelief; these men really have watched too many gangster films. It’s all so cliché.

Argh why can't I stop thinking about films tonight?! HELLO BRAIN I'M IN A CRISIS HERE!

Just as a burly hand reaches the strap of my dress, I finally come up with an idea. “You don’t want to do that!” I shout, “I am Diego Garcia’s girlfriend. I don’t think he’d be too happy.”

My fevered brain has worked out that Diego’s family’s company most likely employs these men during the day. The car-tire corporation owns most of the factories and warehouses in this area and is one of the biggest employers in the town; these men probably can’t afford to lose their jobs there.

Sadly, the fat guy bursts out in disbelief, “I don’t think Diego Garcia would let his girlfriend wander these streets at night girly!”

The blonde had paused at my outburst, but hearing his accomplice’s reasoning he goes to continue, grinning widely; his eyes greedy as he looks me over again.

Hopelessness washes through me and sluggishly, through a haze of dread and shock, it dawns on me that now is the time to start screaming for help. So I am just inhaling a deep breath when a different, gravelly voice breaks into the relative silence of the street.

“What’s going on here?” Another man has turned onto the road at the end near the street-light.

Relief hits me and I sag against the wall until the short one waves the new man over, “We’ve found a girly here Ryan,” He chortles, his double chin wobbling, and I realise I have not discovered a rescuer, but just another member of the criminal gang.

For the first time that night, tears spring into my eyes.

Ryan, as I have deduced is his name, steps forward, “Oh really?” Somehow, since I worked out he wasn’t here to save me, his voice has become deeper and more menacing. I gulp.

He walks into the glow cast by the street-light and I see that he is dressed in close-fitting black jeans and a tight navy t-shirt which only emphasises his tall, muscular physique. His hair is dark, chocolate brown and sweeps over his forehead, obscuring his eyes and he holds a lit cigarette between his teeth. He looks to be in his early twenties.

I am disturbed to find him good-looking in a typical bad-boy fashion and I take comfort in the fact that he cannot properly see me because I am still in the shadows. I use the moment to blink away my tears; I do not want to seem easier prey than I already am.

The fat man continues to speak, clearly excited to be the one telling the story, “Guess what she said mate? She pretended to be Diego Garcia’s girlfriend! What a load of bollocks, eh?!”

I see Ryan raise his eyebrows and then he steps further forward, out of the light, and he is no longer as easily visible. “Oh, really?” He repeats, coming closer. “Let me have a look then.”

Reaching me he waves the burly guy out of his way and I breathe easier now that the knife is gone. That is, until Ryan blows a mouthful of smoke into my face and I wrinkle my nose up in disgust, trying not to cough. I’ve never been one to smoke.

The arsehole smirks at that! And finally anger at what these men are doing to me begins to stir in my stomach, mingling with my other mixed emotions. Talk about a delayed reaction.

Ryan holds his lighter in front of my face and flicks it on. In the light produced he looks me up and down. The new anger I am experiencing is empowering but it is not enough when faced with his intense gaze. Involuntarily, I shiver.

Ryan’s POV

“We’ve found a girly here Ryan,” Greg tells me as I stumble upon him and Davies surrounding a random blonde. I’ve only been gone for five minutes to scout out potential mugging victims and these two are already involved in another unsavoury situation.

No surprises there. I can practically see Greg’s flabby stomach quivering with excitement.

Not a pleasant mental image.

Frankly, their idea of fun disgusts me. But then again, losers like Greg and Davies are more easily appeased if they’re allowed to have some perks.

And I suppose I don’t know what it’s like to be as desperate for some action as these two are. After all, I’m good-looking enough to get plenty of girls without needing to sink that low. 

So I was just going to leave them to it, but then Greg says the girl claims to be Diego Garcia’s girlfriend. Now that could be a useful ‘connection’ to have, if you know what I mean: he’s a bloody rich guy. So I decide to take a look.

My lighter illuminates the girl and abruptly I can see the terror in her large brown eyes. Shit, she looks so young. Sympathy pools in my stomach before I rapidly stamp down on it, realising that I cannot afford to feel sorry for a girl who has way more than me.

It is her fault that she walked through Drayton at night. How foolish.

I take in her heart-shaped face, bowed lips, button nose and straight blonde hair and recognition flares. She’s a pretty little thing, with a lithe body and the longest, shapeliest legs I think I’ve ever seen. I finally put my finger on where I know her from: I remember seeing this girl in a magazine with Garcia at a charity event last month.

Jesus Christ, she’s actually who she says she is. And damn, she’s hot!

“What’s her name?” I check, wanting to be sure.

“Olivia Kendridge,” Davies responds, running a hand through his blonde hair, his beefy arm rippling. I nod, that’s what the girl pictured was called.

“Did you hurt her?” I growl at him, snapping my lighter off. He looks confused – and also afraid, because in our business I’m his senior – and he shakes his head.

“No mate, but we were told we could do what we liked,” Greg says to me, eager not to have his fun ruined. I scowl at him, guessing that Peterson had not recognised the girl.

“OK boys, you’re lucky I arrived when I did. She is Garcia’s girlfriend, I saw her in a magazine. Let’s bring her in.”

Confusion crosses the girl – Olivia’s – face as I grip her upper arm tightly. She winces, her eyes widening when she figures out that being Diego’s girlfriend has not actually saved her.

“Wha- what are you doing?” She says, her high voice breaking as Davies takes her other arm and we begin to drag her towards the van.

I remain grimly silent, but Greg, walking ahead of us to sulk, perks up and cannot stop himself from gloating. “We’re going to kidnap you darling. If your rich boyfriend wants you back then he can pay us a lovely ransom. You see, we’re pretty desperate for some money right about now.”

I glare at Greg before glancing down at the girl, a panicked expression crosses her face and she begins to struggle, “No you don’t understand! I lied, Diego and I broke up! He won’t want me back!”

“Nice try girly,” Davies chuckles, securing his grip on her. “If that’s true you better just hope your parents will pay, or…” He trails off and draws his finger across his neck in a threatening manner.

I watch as Olivia pales, but she refuses to be intimidated by Davies. Instead she thrashes like a wildcat, tugging against us and dragging her feet.

“My family aren’t rich enough to pay, I’m not lying,” She yells, “Let me go! Help! HELP!” Defiantly she begins to scream and, shocked, Davies loses his grip on her.

“Shit,” I mutter, “Someone get the damn van doors open quickly!”

I shift my hold on Olivia so that I have an arm around her stomach and then I hoist her up so that her feet no longer touch the ground, but she is so light I temporarily lose my balance.  

I don’t know why I don’t get Davies to use the knife and scare her into submission, but something holds me back. Instead, I slap my palm over Olivia’s mouth to muffle her cries just in-case a random do-gooder is hanging around somewhere nearby.

I struggle onwards with her wriggling body while Greg and Davies stare brainlessly, unsure of how to help. Typical.

We are only a few feet from the van when Olivia redoubles her efforts, kicking me in the shin and at the same time biting my hand, bloody hard. I swear loudly and my grip on her loosens. Immediately she slithers free and begins to run for the end of the street.

Fucking hell, that silly little bitch.

“Crap, the girl’s escaping,” Davies states the obvious. No shit, Sherlock. Then he trips over his own feet as he attempts to give chase. 

Greg is far too fat to be of much help and Peterson is staring on in bewilderment from inside the van, clueless as to what is happening.

Brilliant. It is all left to me – as bloody usual.

We haven’t done a kidnapping in a while. And we’ve certainly never had such a feisty girl before. Normally, they are from wealthy families and used to the prospect of being taken hostage. They understand the routine; they know they will be treated well and returned home as soon as their parents pay. In fact, they usually find the whole thing exciting.

But oh no, not this girl. It’s just my luck to get a difficult one.

Adrenaline courses through my veins as I suddenly remember exactly what I need this money for and I begin to sprint after Olivia. She is at the end of the street and rounding the corner into the much nicer neighbourhood when I manage to catch her. I have no doubt she would have escaped if she hadn’t been in heels.

I grab her elbow, spinning her around and punching her hard in the stomach in one fluid movement, to wind her and stop her shrieks. She immediately goes limp in my arms and I toss her over my shoulder, pinning her in place as I jog back. I ruthlessly crush the twinge of guilt I naturally feel at hitting a girl – I just can’t afford to feel that way.

Olivia begins to struggle weakly again as I near the van, hitting me feebly in the back and groaning. You have got to give it to this girl, she does not give up.

I feel an instantaneous mix of awe at her determination, and a strong desire to release her. It bothers me; normally I manage to remain detached from our victims.

Finally I reach the van doors and toss Olivia in the back to where Davies is now waiting. He takes over, quickly lunging across her to keep her in the van while I hop in. He swiftly ties her hands and feet with rope, barking at her to stay quiet or risk being gagged.

“Go!” I yell at Peterson, who has been filled in by Greg about what the hell is going on. With a squeal of tyres the van speeds away from the scene of the crime and I slump backwards, reassured that we have actually got her.

Olivia is silent and still, the fight leaving her as we get further and further away from any areas she recognises.

As he drives Peterson turns around, grinning, “Well done boys, we got a good one here. Garcia’s got to be good for at least a million.”

A million! My heart soars. I look across at Olivia, my earlier pity for her fading.

God I need this money. Tonight was a stroke of luck.

Because, at the end of the day, I’d do anything for a million.

Hope you all enjoyed!

The dedication is because she encouraged me to continue this story with her lovely comment on the first chapter, so thankyou!