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I close my eyes.
I need to calm down. I’ll never get out of this if I’m not thinking straight.
As if thinking the phrase activates my brain, I realize that the hand on the back of my neck is the same hand that was holding me in place.
My fingers flex and sure enough, my wrists are free, and my hands are…resting in my kidnapper’s lap.
I yank my arm back and sit up, dislodging his hold entirely.
King lets me pull away and rests his hand back on the center console. Like he’s ready to restrain again. But I won’t give him a reason to. Not yet, at least.
Resigning myself to the fact that I’m going to go wherever he’s bringing me, I wipe the tears off my cheeks and watch the dark landscape pass outside the window.
CHAPTER7
Savannah
I makeit ten minutes before I can’t hold my tongue anymore. “Where are we going?”
“Home.” He gruffly repeats the single word answer he gave earlier.
My teeth press into my lower lip.I probably shouldn’t pester him.A happy captor is a kind captor. Or so I might assume.
“But where ishome?” I never was good at being quiet.
When he only sighs, I tear my gaze away from the scenery and look at him.
The interior of the car is too dim to show me his features well, but I don’t need light to remember the spark in his eye. And the passing street lamps are enough to outline his strong jaw. His strong brow. His strongeverything.
Honestly, it’s not even fair for someone to look so good. And it’s certainly not fair that my brain just can’t seem to get over the fact. Every time I look at him fear should be the first thing I feel. But it’s not.
Instead, I have this girlish squirmy feeling inside of me. The feeling that lets you know someone is attractive; and that that someone is too attractive for you, and that they probably know it. So when I should be focusing on the important things––likehow do I escape––my mind grabs on to the fact that this shirt I’m wearing is kind of tight. And that the band of my jean shorts is also tight. And that sitting like this makes my stomach pooch out over the seatbelt. And my thighs––sweaty from exertion and stress––are sticking to the warm leather seat beneath me. And Iknownone of that is important. Iknowthat it’s all stupid trivial societal shit that I shouldn’t worry about ever, let alone when I’m beingliterally kidnapped by a madman. But still, here I am, wondering what he thinks of me. And that might be the thing I hate the most about myself right now.
He sighs again, probably sick of me staring at his profile. “We’ll be there soon enough.”
I glance out the windshield. We’re heading down the freeway, with Minneapolis growing smaller behind us. Which only tells me that he doesn’t live in the city.
“You live in a suburb?” I don’t know why that’s so unbelievable, but it is.
“Listen, you can sit there and observe, or I can blindfold you. But I’m not going to just give you my address.”
“But…” I don’t know why I can’t just shut up. “You’re taking me there. So won’t I see where you live?”
King turns his head to look at me. “Would you rather I take you to one of the warehouses? Because I promise you that my house is more comfortable. For both of us.”
He holds my gaze for a beat longer than I’d consider safe before he turns back to looking at the road ahead of us.
Clamping my lips shut, I go back to looking out the window.
I don’t have much experience with threats of violence, but going toone of thewarehousessounds like one.
Who even has warehouses? Plural?
“Is King your real name?” I watch my own eyes widen in the reflection of my window.
Why did I ask that!?
I don’t think I can call his reaction this time a sigh, it’s more of a long, loud exhale. “Savannah, you can’t possibly think that’s a good thing to ask me?”
