AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I ignore the sarcasm in his voice. I’ve never been good at picking my battles, but something tells me now’s the time to learn. While his back is turned, I lean over—my head spins when I do—and work on the knot at my ankle. It’s so tight. Maybe I could work something into it, like a knife or the tines of a fork. I wonder if he’ll give me either of those things to eat breakfast with.
The aroma of bacon fills the air, and my stomach growls. I guess my body doesn’t care that someone kidnapped it anymore. My brain’s another story. “You live here alone?”
He nods, his back still to me. “Yeah. For years now. Nobody around for miles.” I don’t know if that’s true or not, though, do I? He could say that because he wants me to believe it, like I won’t try to get away if I think there’s nowhere to go.
“Doesn’t it get lonely?”
“No.” He takes the bacon out of the pan, then cracks eggs into the hot grease.
He’s not opening up. What did I see once on a true crime show? Make him look at you as a human being.
“I just finished my undergrad,” I say. “Early childhood education. I nanny for a family with twin girls named Fiona and Francesca. They’re four years old.”
“Cute,” he mutters.
“They are cute. I love them to pieces.”
“You’d have to stop nannying for them once you got a new job with your new degree, anyway.”
This sick bastard. I mean, he’s not wrong, but still. “My parents retired early to Florida. I have people who love me. Who I love. It’ll kill them if they think I disappeared. I have to get back to them.” Another thing hits me. “What happens when the police get involved in this? It’ll make things bad for you.”
“A drunk tourist girl vanished from a party that probably turned into something closer to an orgy after another hour or two.” He snickers, then shakes his head. “Yeah, the police will worry themselves sick over this.”
Fuck, I wish he wasn’t right, but what do I know? I’ve heard about touristy places, how sometimes the law looks the other way when certain things happen because it’s the tourist dollars that fund the city or country.
He pulls two bagels from the freezer and puts them in a toaster oven. Big bagels, the kind I remember eating in New York the last time I visited. Where did they come from? I don’t know why that sticks out to me the way it does. Probably because the rest of my mind is completely blown, so I need something to focus on.
He brings me a sandwich on a plate. “Can I have something to cut it in half with?” I’d ask even if I didn’t want it for rope sawing since the bagel is as big as my head.
He pulls a steak knife from a drawer and cuts it for me. Damn him.
Our eyes meet. “You think I’m gonna let you have a knife? I wasn’t born yesterday.” He’s snickering when he turns away. I bet he’s an expert at keeping girls tied up. He probably does this on the regular.
At least the sandwich is good. After a tentative bite, my appetite roars to life and I end up scarfing down the rest while he watches, eating his own sandwich, standing at the counter. He offers to brew coffee and I accept gratefully before asking to use the bathroom.
“Of course. Should’ve asked before now.” He unties my ankle and I pray I find something to help me in the bathroom, or that he ties it looser next time. Maybe if I can distract him…
The small bathroom—powder room since there’s no shower or tub—is super clean, which is more of a relief than almost anything else. I can stand a lot of things, but a shit-covered bathroom? The only thing that would make it better would be something in the medicine cabinet that I could use to cut or loosen the rope he’s going to tie me with.
Or even better, something I could use to attack him. I paid attention to the drawer he keeps the knives in. If I can sweet-talk him into letting me walk around the place…
“You okay in there?”
Right. I’m supposed to be taking care of business. I pee, then wash up as best I can in the sink. The food has me feeling more like myself.
Good. Because I’m going to have to work smart to get out of here, and the tiny window in the bathroom isn’t an option.
There’s coffee brewing by the time I’m finished. For a guy who is supposedly in the middle of nowhere, he likes his little luxuries.
“That bagel was awesome,” I say as he leads me to the bed and reaches for the rope. “Where do you get that kind all the way out here? I can’t even get anything like that below central Jersey.”
“I have my methods.” He leaves it there, finishing his knot.
I expect him to stand up, but he stays where he is, crouched beside the bed with his hand on my leg. Our eyes meet. Heat races through me, and I have to wonder why. I’m terrified, with no ID or money, and desperate to return to my friends. This isn’t the time to get wet over my captor, no matter how sexy his scruffy jaw is or how sensuous his lips happen to be.
“Don’t bother trying to get away,” he warns. “I wasn’t lying when I said there’s nothing around for miles. I like it that way. I’d rather deal with snakes and whatever else is out there than with other people. But I know the terrain. You don’t.” He lowers his brow. “It wouldn’t end well.”
There’s that icy finger running down my spine. I wish I knew whether to believe him.
