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“There’s nothing for you out there. Thereissomething here. If you give it some time, you’ll see that.”
Aside from the tying-her-up part, he wasn’t acting like a crazed kidnapper. He wasn’t roughing her up or pushing her around or yelling or cursing at her. He seemed content to wait for her to step into the house of her own accord, but she wasn’t sure she could do that.
Tears started to stream down her cheeks. “Give it some time? Just accept this? I didn’t come here freely. You could do anything with me, and I’m supposed to be happy about that?”
There had to be a phone in his house. And if there was a phone, there would have to be an unguarded moment where she could call the police. But he was right. What was she going home to? Were the police going to give her a nice roof over her head and food? They wouldn’t give her anything. But Luke might kill her or rape her. But did she really think those things were unlikely back in the city with nowhere to go? What about when the money ran out?
“What about the guys who work for you?” she asked.
“What about them?”
“They’ll tell someone.”
He laughed. “No, princess, they won’t. We speak the same language. They’ll take my side. So save yourself the trouble of resurrecting any high school acting technique. It won’t do any good.”
It took another twenty minutes before she could make herself turn toward Luke and the house. He leaned against the post on the porch, his arms crossed over his chest as if he had all the time in the world. When she started moving toward him, he turned and headed inside.
He flipped on the lights as they went through the lower level of the house.
“What am I going to wear?”
“I’ve got some clothes upstairs that will probably fit you.”
“Whose?”
He was silent for a few minutes as if he were fumbling for a way to tell her. “The last woman who lived here.”
“Did you kill her?”
“No. Get off this killing kick. I’m not a killer.”
“Are you a rapist?”
His eyes raked over her. “Probably by your definitions, but not by the definition of any woman who’s ever been in my bed.”
“What happened to her? Did you let her go?”
“I don’t want to talk about Trish.” His voice came out clipped, and she dropped the subject.
Luke stopped at a bathroom tucked at the back of the house. He pushed it open without turning the knob, and Veronica realized the latch didn’t catch.
“This is the only bathroom with a tub.” He sat on the edge of the claw-foot tub and fiddled with the knobs, holding his hand under to check the temperature. “Come here.”
Veronica froze in the doorway. “Why?”
Hard eyes locked on hers. “Come. Here. Don’t make me ask again.”
She took a couple of tentative steps into the small room. When she was close enough, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her over to the tub. “Tell me if the temperature is okay. Too hot? Too cool?”
The toughness leeched out of her as the realization of how much danger she was in finally registered. “I-it’s fine. But, I-I can’t take a bath here. The door doesn’t latch, you could come in, and...”
He stood, towering over her. He must’ve been six feet five and solid muscle. “When you’re finished, you’ll put on the bathrobe hanging on the back of the door.”
She looked down at the tile floor. “Please, I-I can’t.”
“Honey, we’re in the middle of bumfuck in case you haven’t noticed. I’m about ten times stronger than you. I could have you at any moment I chose, no matter what you started out wearing or what you were doing, so get in the goddamn tub. I know you’re tired and exhausted and stressed, just soak for awhile, and I’ll make us some food.”
He mercifully left her then.
