The first brush of dawn was creeping on the horizon when they landed at the airport.  Pollux craned his neck back to them, and addressed his brother in his creepy monotone voice.  “What do we do with her now?”.

Castor, staring out the window, smirked slightly.  He was playing with one of the .45s on his lap, rolling his thumb over the hammer rhythmically, his knee bouncing with unbridled energy.  “Let’s keep her around.  I’ve never been known to leave a lady hanging.”.  Pollux snorted at this remark, then faced forward again, opening the laptop to another screen which looked like a radar tracker.  For the first time, he addressed Heather directly.  “Don’t you want to know what I’m doing?”.

The tension of her stress was mounting.  She was dimly aware of the mild ache of her clenched jaw.  “Yeah.  Yeah, I do.”.

He tapped a few keys and zoomed in on a blip, giggling hoarsely to himself.  “That’s the 5:15 am flight… it should be here any second.”.  Looking up at her over his glasses, his face was plastered with a slimy, mischievous grin.  “Hope they remembered to pack a lunch… they’re going to be waiting for awhile.”.

“Waiting for what?”

“A ride home.”.

The helicopter bristled slightly as it made contact with the runway, then lumbered to a stop.  Pollux and the pilot – whose face was still covered – jumped out first and headed towards the airport, while Castor grabbed Heather by the arm and pulled her out of her seat, holding one of the .45s in his other hand.  It was deathly quiet… as they went inside, she kept her ears cocked for noise, any noise at all.  The lobby of the airport was worn, dirty, and tired; the morning light shone through dusty windows, casting amber shadows across the threadbare carpet.  It was obviously not a major commercial airport… at first, Heather didn’t understand why they were there.  Castor and his gang were all about the big heists.  Nothing violent, just anything involving lots of cash.  What sort of payoff would a glorified mom-and-pop place like this get them?

Seconds later a woman screamed in terror.  Ahead and around the corner, Pollux and the pilot had their guns drawn and aimed at the airline personnel – a middle-aged woman and two scruffy men.  The pilot shouted something at them in Spanish, and one of the men nodded his head in understanding.  Heather recognized one word in particular – secuestro . 

“Perhaps it’s all the excitement,”, Castor murmured behind her, running the butt of his gun gently up her spine and making her tingle, “but right at this moment I’m feeling very close to you… have you ever seen 18 million in cash all in one place, Sinclaire?”.  His voice was ardent and bold, and feeling his warm breath on the back of her neck almost sent her over the edge.

“No, I haven’t… why would a plane carrying so much money land at this airport?”, she asked him, but already knew the answer.  A low-profile airport would be a better choice for any plane carrying valuable goods.

Castor ignored the question.  “Wait until you see it… your mind will be blown!”, he whispered dramatically.  At that moment, a screeching discordance was heard outside, muffled at first but growing louder.  Pollux whirled around the look out one of the windows, then danced a little jig in delight, laughing madly.  “It’s showtime, Cas!!  Let’s do it, let’s do it, let’s do it!”.  He was almost to the doors, with the pilot trailing behind, when Castor ordered them to stop. 

“Not yet.  Wait until someone comes out.”.  He pulled Heather around to him gently, his eyes searching for hers.  “I hope you’ll come with us.  It’s going to be fabulous.  I really think you’d enjoy yourself.”.  Brushing his lips over her earlobe and nuzzling her hair, he holstered his gun and squeezed her ass tenderly.  She felt herself instinctively move in closer to his touch, aching to accommodate him, but forcibly held herself back.  He was a master of manipulation; he knew what he was doing to her, how he was making her moist and weak.  Before this mission, had he also studied her, they way she had studied him?  It was entirely possible… she was annoyed by this thought, but also strangely intrigued.  Maybe he knew she would be the least likely of the group to hold their own against him.  Is this why he had taken her hostage? 

“What if I said I wanted to stay here?”, she heard herself ask.

The look in his eyes was startling and almost pained.  He said nothing, but simply stared at her… he looked almost crestfallen..  If she had not been a psychologist, she would have assumed he was pulling another one of his mind games, but the weakening of his grip on her wrist and his irregular breathing told her otherwise.

Had Castor Troy developed a crush on her?

Heather thought quickly and found her footing again.  “I’m just teasing you… of course I want to come with you.”, she enthused, forcing warmth into her voice to mask her fear.  For a brief moment, his face lit up in sanguine fervor, he squeezed her wrist tightly.  Pulling out one of his .45s again, he waved it over his head and cheered loudly.  “Let’s do this!”, he shouted to the other men, and in seconds they were on the runway, guns drawn.  The three passengers on the plane were ambushed with little effort and shoved outside, and soon they were taking off themselves.  As the plane left the ground, Pollux walked to the back and looked out the window.

“Can I do it now, Cas?  Or do you want to do it?”, he giggled, pulling something small out of his pocket. 

“I’ll let you have the honors.”, he said without looking at him as his fingers absentmindedly rubbed Heather’s wrist, squeezing it tightly.  It was starting to turn red and felt rather sore.   He was engrossed in a map that was heavily marked and notated.

Seconds later, she heard an explosion, and craned her neck to look out the window.  They had remote-detonated the helicopter, destroying any chance of being followed… when Castor heard this, he looked outside briefly, then returned to the map.  Heather’s stomach lurched when she heard this, wondering if anyone was inside.  Her main priority at this point was to find out where they were going, then think of a way to communicate the information back to headquarters, assuming they were not already on their trail.

“Where’s the money?  In the back?”, she asked Castor.

At mention of this, he smiled slightly and put the map aside.  “Hmmm… you’re curious.”.  Without another word, he pulled her up out of her seat and let her to the back of the plane to a small steel door.  It was secured with a padlock… he calmly pulled out one of his .45s and leveled it at the lock, blowing it apart and sending sparks and bits of metal everywhere.  She flinched at the noise and debris, making a mental note to never take his casual firearm usage lightly.

The room beyond had a low ceiling.  It made Heather feel trapped and a little nervous.  White crates, neatly strapped with black plastic strips, were lined floor to ceiling along one side.  “Each of these crates holds one million dollars.”.  He signaled for Pollux to join them.  He brought his laptop with him, setting it on a table and flipping it open, humming a sinfully happy tune to himself.  Castor, meanwhile, sat on a chair a few feet away from him, leaning back against the wall carefully and studying Heather as she looked at the boxes.

            “Ohhhh….”, he murmured, his right hand on his chest dramatically.  Huge clustered rings glittered brazenly on his fingers.  “You are such a pretty woman.  Just like an angel.  Pollux… bro… c’mere.”, he gestured for his brother without looking away from Heather.  “Look at those eyes.  They’re just too much.”.  Pollux, absorbed in the workings of the laptop, paid no mind.  Castor cocked his head to the side, eyeing Heather’s features from every angle possible, a sardonic yet charming expression plastered on his face.  He seemed to truly enjoy just absorbing her company, while at the same time making her feel terribly uncomfortable.  “We waited for the storm, her fingers would soon stroke us dry, and just before the raindrops graced us with their presence, we heard the wind… and the wind cried out… Sinclaire/”, he exploded dramatically, his arms thrusting in the air.

            “What is that a quote from?”

            “I have no ****ing idea.  I think I just made it up.  Can I tell you something in confidence, Sinclaire?”

            “Of course.”

            Castor rested his face on the first three fingers of his right hand, still gazing at her.  “Most women just don’t do it for me… they hold no use for me beyond showing up, spreading out and giving in.  But you… you may have just redeemed your sisters in my eyes.  When I look at you, look at your face, you make even someone like me believe in love at first sight.”.  He leaned close to her, so very close, the heavy lids of his eyes casting shadows that almost went down to his lips.  “I want to take you.  Now.  Before we land.”

            Her legs went limp when she looked into his eyes, and honestly, she never even heard his voice.  Just watching his lips move told the whole story.  His fingers brushed against hers tenderly, but his voice betrayed him… he was a man who relished in brute force, and would use it against her if necessary, she suspected.  But even as she mentally flipped through all the detestable crimes he had committed, she couldn’t help herself.  He made her hot and wet and vulnerable to him, and he knew it… he loved it.  He would take very, very good care of her.

            Castor whipped around to Pollux, still deeply engaged in his calculations and paying no attention to either of them.  “Take it up front… make sure it’s all going down as planned.”.  Heather briefly considered trying to pump him for more information, to stall for more time, but he didn’t give her a chance.  After his brother shut the door behind him, Castor took her by the wrists with a devilish smile and turned her towards the table, bending her down low on her stomach.  Wetting his fingers, he reached under her skirt – pushing aside her panties – he caressed her clit as he leaned into her, feeling her tense underneath him.  “You like that… you know I’ll give it to you better than you’ve ever had it.”, he whispered.

            He lifted her hips gently and spread her legs.  Heather felt her knees bump against the leaf of the table, and she winced slightly in pain.  His lips trailed down the back of her neck, his fingertips stroking her more and more insistently, his breath seeking the same rhythm.  “I’m gonna make you scream…. I’m gonna make you scream my name and then you’ll forget all about those ****ing hack jobs who touched you before.”, he hissed in her ear.  Her arm muscles ached from gripping the sides of the table, but she didn’t care.  His fingers were sensational, working in and out of her insistently.  “Oooh, you’re wet… tell me, Sinclare, do you like the idea of a 8” cock pushing inside you?  Do you?”.

            Heather was unable to speak, but nodded her head dumbly.

            “I’m gonna give it to you, and you’re gonna take it.”.  Castor Troy intended to take her the way he took everything – with perfection.

            Heather could feel the light beads of sweat on his upper lip and forehead when he pressed his face into the side of her neck, sucking it possessively.  His moans were feral, his body tight, his slim hips overtaking hers from behind.  She distinctly felt his cock straining inside his pants… the subtle acknowledgement seemed to make him jump back a little, and she looked over her shoulder to meet blue-gray eyes bathed in both anxiety and candor.