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We’re a few meters away when she finally stops. Her face drops in despair. She looks over her shoulder, watching him from the truck’s back window over the bench seat. I glance in the smudged rearview, confirming he’s still by the bins. He finishes his smoke, his back to the truck, stepping on the cigarette butt before heading up the side steps.
Her voice is filled with bewilderment. “He had to have heard me. He didn’t even move an inch.”
“Nope. Nay a centimeter, to be fair.”
She gives me an exasperated look. “Did you know him? The man inside?—”
“I know everyone. And that was Crank. Town mechanic. Has a chip on his shoulder and a scar over his brow. Bar fight when he was sixteen, down at his old man’s pub, the Hobgoblin.”
“Thanks for the history lesson. Well, Crank, town mechanic and bar fighter extraordinaire, might not have heard me, but the one outside had to have. I couldn’t see his face, but I was banging pretty loud. He had to hear. He didn’t even look…” She slowly side-eyes me. “He must know you. Is this whole island in on my kidnapping?”
“Baynes have been here since the dawn of time. We work together. We know every person on this island.” I glance over at her. “And now I’ve had the displeasure of meeting the island’s newest resident.”
“If I don’t please you, take me back.”
“Can’t do. I’m keeping you.”
Her pale face goes alabaster. “Yes, but for how long?”
“Till I decide what to do with ye.”
She goes quiet then, thank God, and we ride in silence the rest of the way to the cottage.
It’s a wee stone building in the middle of nowhere, which on this island is really saying something. It’s outfitted to be a safehouse if someone needs to lay low, or in this case, a perfect place to keep a pretty captive like the blooming rose next to me.
I pull up the drive, parking round the back where the truck will be out of sight from the road. Once I get her secure, I’ll come back out and hide the truck in the old garage bay.
“Feel free to scream as loud as ye want, but I’d prefer if ye’d not scare the animals. Just get yer arse inside as quickly as possible. There’s nothing but sheep and ponies out here, and as lovely as you American kind find the ponies, they aren’t going to do a lick to save ye.”
She eyes me, all fear and decision making. Will she scream? Am I lying? Could there be someone out here to save her?
Or will her screams anger me? Making me treat her more harshly than I’m already planning on.
Reading my mind, she goes with the second thought and keeps her mouth shut as I guide her through the back door of the cottage.
She’s mine. To do with as I please.
It’s been a long time since I had a lass under my control.
I’m going to enjoy every moment punishing her.
Chapter Five
Kitt
I still wear my thick down coat, but I stand in the center of the room, shivering. My heart pounds. My hands tremble as I slip into a painted blue chair, the nearest of the mismatched set.
“Breathe, Kitt. Just breathe.” I press my palm onto the cool black tabletop, just to feel something solid. The paint is chipping at the corners, revealing the natural wood beneath. I pick at a bit of paint with my fingernail. The black paint flake swirls downward, landing on the wide-planked wood floors. “He said he's not going to kill you.”
At least, I think he did, just not in so many words.
Glancing around, I think if I wasn’t here as prisoner, waiting for my captor to return, unsure of my fate, I would actually find this place charming.
The kitchen is small but functional, with the worn wooden table in the center and mismatched chairs around it. The walls are made of stone. Mismatched pots and pans of various sizes hang from a silver rack over the table. A small window sits over the sink, but the curtains are drawn.
Instead, I’m terrified.
I'm left alone here, not a word spoken to me other than a stern, "Stay put," accompanied by a piercing blue-green gaze.
