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“Has somebody hurt you? Is that why you’re scared of me?”
“No. You’re a stranger. And we’re alone. Isn’t that enough?” She left off the part about him watching her, and probably following her, and all the creepy pieces that added up to freaking her out. It was more than a little weird that he was pursuing her like this, offering her a job when she had zero experience of anything that wasn’t in a city.
“Maybe,” he said, unconvinced. “Anyway, I want to show you something.”
She jumped again when he reached in his pocket, but all he came out with was a phone. “I want to show you the ranch. We just set up the website last week. Would you like to see it? Maybe you could help keep it updated.”
Veronica nodded slowly, not liking the way she was being pulled into his trap one answer and small capitulation at a time. He pulled the site up and handed her the phone. The sun began to set, and she was uncomfortably aware of that fact. It would be dark soon. She needed to get away from him and back to her room and the small bit of safety life still afforded her.
She flipped through the pages of the site, getting hungrier with each page. They sold grass-fed beef, as well as milk, cheese, and butter. There were pictures of food that made her want to beg him to take her with him despite the danger he posed. She’d been rationing money for food, afraid for when it ran out. Wasn’t staying in New York the tiger? What if both doors had tigers of different breeds—grisly death either way?
“There are lots of things you could do out there. We’d keep you busy and well fed.”
“Why are you doing this? I was a jerk to you, and I have no ranch-related skills.”
He looked away, but she’d seen his eyes before he’d managed it. He wanted her. She didn’t know why, and she didn’t really care. It was pure animal lust, and going with him meant one way or another she’d end up in his bed.
“I just want to help you.”
She handed the phone back to him, a chill going down her spine as the sun sank beneath the trees. She felt torn. A part of her wanted to ask him to walk her back to her room, but she didn’t feel safe with him, either: then he’d know where she slept at night.
“I’m sorry, I really can’t. I’ll be fine.”
He sighed deeply and stood. “All right. You still have my card?”
Veronica nodded. She’d held that card in her hands, staring at it for days now, wanting it to be a real safety net but too afraid it was a trap. She’d never been the woman who trusted pretty strangers. Women around her would get drunk at bars and trustingly go home with strange men because they were attractive, and therefore somehow safe. Veronica had never looked at things that way. Strangers were strangers. Men you didn’t know were men you couldn’t trust. And what did she know about men youcouldtrust? Nothing. For all she knew, such men were a fairy tale.
“If you change your mind, call me. I’ll come get you.”
He started to walk away, and for a hysterical moment she wanted to beg him to take her with him. Judging by the way her house of cards had fallen around her, it was fuck him for room and board or fuck strangers. Stripping would be an option right before it got that dire, but she wasn’t sure she could stand on a stage and shed her clothing while men ogled her. It seemed almost as bad as sex with strangers for money.
He’d gotten several yards away when he cursed, turned around, and came right for her. There was purpose and determination on his face that froze her to the bench, immobilizing her even down to her vocal cords. By the time she worked up a scream, his hand was over her mouth.
“Sorry, Ronnie, you’re coming with me.”
Instinctively she bit his hand, and just as instinctively he smacked her, but he didn’t look sorry. That scared her more than anything else. He hadn’t hit her hard, and didn’t look like he would do it again, but the look in his eyes—the look that dared her to challenge him right now—was enough.
“Fine. Scream. My truck’s not far.”
She kicked desperately out at him, but he swept an arm under her legs and scooped her up. Even with her wriggling and struggling, he made it back to the truck.
He’d left the doors unlocked, probably something he’d grown used to in Vermont. Unluckily for her, some thug hadn’t stolen it. She screamed one last time before he shoved her into the passenger side. Moments later, rope from the trunk was being tied around her wrists and ankles. He pulled out a knife, and she shrank back.
“I’m cutting the rope, not you. Relax.”
Relax!?
“Ask again why I’m afraid of you.” She couldn’t stop the tears streaming down her cheeks.
“This is just so you don’t hurt me or wreck us. That’s it. Judging from the state you were in just a week after you were fired, if I left you, you’d die in a ditch or be raped in an alley.”
“How do I know that fate doesn’t await me with you?”
“Guess you’ll have to start being nicer to me.”
He took the second length of rope and pulled her wrists down and tied them to her ankles. The rope was long enough that she could sit up properly in the car, but not long enough for her to hold her arms up to get the attention of other motorists.
Five minutes later he started the engine. It was fully dark now.
