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“That’s inhumane.”
“Says the monster.”
My anger spikes. “Don’t call me that,” I murmur.
His head pops up. “What?”
“Never mind.”
I turn away and stare at the wall, trying to shake off the insult but it still burns. It’s been hours since I disappeared from the hotel. Surely, Elijah’s figured out I’m gone by now.
Unless things went really well with that nurse.
Well, shit.
Archer walks over to the bed and leans over me with the handcuff key. “You have sixty seconds,” he says.
I flinch with excitement as he frees my hands but quickly deflate as he bounds our wrists together with a single pair of cuffs.
I blink. “You’re going in with me?”
“It’s that or nothing at all.” He pulls me off the bed and flashes me a smile. “I could sing a little song while you tinkle if it’ll make you feel better.”
I groan.
We walk to the bathroom and I look again at my duffel bag in the corner.
He stops. “Wait—”
I startle at the sound of his voice. We halt right outside the sliding door. He pokes his head into the bathroom and reaches in to grab the razor off the sink.
“Wouldn’t want you getting your hands on this…” he says, proud of himself.
“Then, you should take the toothbrush, too.”
Archer pauses, the wheels spinning in his head as to whether or not I’m joking. In the end, he reaches back in and snatches his toothbrush, along with his package of nail trimmers and tweezers.
I wink. “Good call.”
He takes a step back to let me inside. “Sixty seconds,” he repeats.
I step inside the tiny bathroom and, to his credit, he slides the door closed so it’s only open enough to poke his cuffed hand through. A quick glance outside shows that he’s turned his back to give me privacy.
Hell. I’m almost starting to like him.
Almost.
“Can you really kill a man with a toothbrush?” he asks.
I chuckle as I awkwardly try to figure out how to do my business with only one hand. “Well, yeah. I mean… I never have, but it wouldn’t be too hard, I think.”
I regard the toilet paper roll beside me and a plan pops into my head. I check Archer again to make sure he’s not peeking before silently collapsing the tube and sliding it off the rack.
“Just stab the handle into his eyes,” I say, buying time as I try to twist the white roller apart with one hand. “Or shove it down his throat. Or, depending on the thickness, I could probably force it up into the brain through his nose…”
He says nothing. I kind of wish he’d sneak one peek just so I could see the terror in his eyes but, thankfully, he doesn’t even glance back.
I smile as I pull the metal spring from the tube. “Archer?”
