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“No. Nope. I just—stubbed my toe?” I’ve seriously got to stop talking to myself out loud.
I can feel him still outside the door, hovering. Probably trying to decide what threats to leave me with for the evening. Finally, his gruff voice returns. “Uh—do you need anything?”
“Do I need anything?” The request baffles me.
A momentary pause. “Yeah. Food? Drink? You warm enough in there? It can be a bit drafty at night.”
I glance around the perfectly snug room. An unopened water bottle left on my nightstand. He’s thought of everything.
Is he… worried about me?
Half of me wants to tell him to come in here and finish what he started over the hood of that truck. Shame fills me at the thought. I’ve never done anything like that—telling a boy what I want him to do to me. The most I’ve had is a few fumbled make out sessions as a teen.
No boys really piqued my interest in school, and I wasn’t just going to give my virginity away to someone not worthy of receiving it. I would have had to really like the boy.
Deep in thought, I haven’t answered him yet and the gruff voice, so deep in its timbre, comes back, asking me again if I need anything. The sound makes me think maybe the reason for my sexual inexperience is because I was messing around with boys.
And never found a man.
I need to get him away from my door before I do something truly stupid. “No. Thank you. I’m alright.”
“Alright.”
Finally, the sound of heavy footsteps move down the hall. I should wait here, then slip out from under the covers, get dressed, put on my coat and boots, and sneak out that window.
I’m so drained, the memories from my past, the lack of contact from my mom, the scene over the truck, missing my friends. The bed is so comfy. The mattress is soft, the sheets cool, the comforter ridiculously fluffy.
I sit up, open the bottle, and take a sip of the cool water. Seeing the chenille blanket at the foot of the bed, I grab it. Going for a more neutral color palette, I’m not typically a pink girl like Fiona is, but the touch, well, it’s a nice touch, to choose this for me, because after seeing the rest of the masculine house, I’m beginning to think that he picked this out just for me. Dropping back down onto my piles of pillows, I bring the blanket up higher, tucking it under my chin for a cuddle.
I turn out the light. A peaceful darkness fills the room. I can hear the waves of the ocean lapping the shore even through the closed window.
I’ll make my plan and I’ll get out of here, but right now, this bed is too cozy, the blanket too soft where it rests against my cheek. I may not escape tonight but I’ll have fun playing games with my captor until the perfect moment arises.
Why should he be the only one to have fun?
Chapter Twelve
Bayne
I plan on spending the day home and keeping an eye on Kitt, like I have the past three days. We move around one another like planets within their own orbits. It’s taken a bit of adjustment, having a woman in my house. Can’t walk around naked as the day I was born anymore, can I? But the food, I’ve easily gotten used to.
I get a phone call from my brother, interrupting my quiet day. Eamon’s in a panic, his voice getting higher by the minute as he yells down the phone. “I’m telling you,” he shouts, “they’re onto us!”
“Us?” I ask. “Last time I checked, I’m the one playing prison guard.”
“You know I’ve got your back. I’m in this with you.”
“This is my issue. Not yours. Stay out of it,” I warn him.
He needles me with, “How can I stay out of it when I have information you need?”
He’s got me there. Having him stay at the big house has been beneficial, his eyes and ears keenly looking to pick up insight. “Tell me. What have you heard?”
“The brothers know that there’s a witness. Our contact in the police works in another department but he’s heard enough to know that DI Collins had contacted someone.”
“Does DI Collins have any information?”
“No.” he says. “The contact said Collins thinks the witness is under duress because he couldn’t get anything out of them.”
