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“Mornin’.” He nods, taking the keys to my cuffs from his pocket and reaching over my body to release me.
He pulls me up off the bed, holding my body against his, and I attempt to make myself as tall as possible.
He still towers over me, those dark eyes looking down his nose at me, and his mouth straight as I stare up through my lashes.
We’re so close that I feel his chest rising when he breathes, I have to stop my newly freed hands from reaching up and checking if the man has a heartbeat.
Brax wastes no more time, his rough hand squeezing tighter around my wrist before he drags me down the stairs, into the kitchen, and forces me to sit at the table.
“So, what are your plans today?” I keep up my friendly pretense. I’m not gonna let the son of a bitch break me. I’ll stick to my game plan, play innocent and compliant, then strike like a panther when he least expects it.
Brax didn’t even know my name, so I doubt he knows that I ran track all the way through high school, and college. If I find a chance to get free, I’m sure I can outrun him.
He chooses to ignore my question, so I turn my attention to the stray mutt that seems to have attached itself to him. Watching Brax take care of the dog surprises me. He seems like the kind of guy who holds no consideration for anyone other than himself.
“I wonder if he has a home?” I make another attempt at starting a conversation with him.
“Nowhere around here for miles.” Brax uses his answer to remind me that wherever we are, we’re cut off. But I don’t give him the response he’ll want. Instead, I raise my arms and stretch out my back, it’s still throbbing from that damn mattress.
“Forgot spread,” Brax says unapologetically as he drops a plate of dry toast on the table in front of me.
“You really expect me to eat that?” I look up from the plate horrified, and he turns down his lip and shrugs back. Remaining silent, he takes the plate and marches over to the trash, then tips the plate and lets the toast slide off before stepping back and slamming the plate hard onto the kitchen side.
He forces me onto my feet and drags me down the corridor into a room I haven’t seen yet.
I figure the large open space must have been used as a living room before this place was emptied out. There's an old-style fireplace, and off-white paint flakes from the walls.
Brax pulls me toward the radiator, and I inhale sharply when his body presses into mine. I can’t help but focus on his lips when a familiar cool metal snaps over my wrists, and I realize he’s cuffed me to the pipe work.
He doesn’t bother to look at me again, just turns his back and starts to leave.
“You’re a real piece of work, you know that?” I yell at him. But he doesn’t acknowledge me, just trudges out the room without so much as a glance over his shoulder.
I search the room for an escape route but I soon realize it’s a hopeless cause. I have to face the reality that I’m stuck here until he decides what to do with me next.
My mind is exhausted from trying to come up with reasons why this man has taken me. And there’s no denying how scary he is, all I have to be thankful for is that he hasn’t hurt me yet.
Maybe I’m kidding myself, but I get the impression he doesn’t want to.
Still, I can’t rely on a hunch. Whoever this guy is, he’s dangerous, and I have to be on my guard.
Julian will be looking for me, he will have gone to the police by now. Perhaps someone saw us leaving the house and got the license plate of the truck. I have hope, and as long as I’ve got that I can be strong.
I don’t know what Brax spends the rest of the day doing, but he only shows his face a few times to bring me water. If I wasn’t so thirsty, I’d have thrown it at his face.
Later in the afternoon, he frees me so I can use the bathroom, the only contact between us being his rough hands and that icy cold stare, that somehow makes my body blister with heat.
It’s getting late now. I can see through the window that the sky is losing its light, and my ass cheeks are numb from sitting on the hardwood floor for so long.
Brax comes back to the room carrying a half-drunk bottle of Jack, with his furry friend at his heel. I watch on hungrily as he places another bowl of cooked beef on the floor in front of the dog, then leans his back against the wall, glaring at me cruelly as I watch the dog devour his food.
I'm a little shocked when he slides down onto his ass, hanging his arms over his knees and making no attempt to hide the fact he’s staring at me.
He lifts the bottle to his lips and takes a long swig back, while his eyes remain fixed on mine, reeling with hate.
“You treat that stray dog better than you treat me,” I point out, feeling another pang of hunger attack my stomach. If I’d have known that dry piece of toast was all I’d be offered today, I probably would have accepted it.
“I trust the dog,” he rasps back at me, taking something red and shiny out of his pocket. He tosses it in the air and then catches it again and when I realize it’s an apple. I rub my lips together to dampen them, suddenly they feel so dry.
