Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 71616 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 358(@200wpm)___ 286(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71616 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 358(@200wpm)___ 286(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
I can do this. I need to do this. I need to get through this so I can get to Wren.
Feeling a chill, I rub my arms before walking out of the bathroom and into the bedroom where I find Zeke holding a backpack.
I stare at that bag. And I want to cry.
Because him having it, it just takes one more option away from Wren and me.
He closes the door behind him.
I step fully into the bedroom.
He looks me over and I find myself tugging my hair down on the left side of my face. Habit. It takes me a minute to meet his eyes and instantly I feel a flush of heat at the memory of what happened earlier today. What he made me do.
But that’s good for me. It forces me to muster my strength, to get it together, because I can’t be embarrassed. I can’t care. He’s the one who should be embarrassed at how he treated me. What he made me do.
“Clothes fit?”
“There’s no underwear.”
“No?” he asks, very clearly not concerned.
Fine. “It’s a lot of clothes. I don’t plan on being here that long.”
He makes some noncommittal sound.
“Where did you get them all anyway? Are they trophies or something?” I ask, trying for casual but failing.
“My brother’s wife’s clothes.”
“She knows I’m here? That you’re keeping me prisoner?”
He sets the backpack on the bed and unzips it. “Is this your go bag?” he asks, ignoring my question.
He begins to unpack it, taking out my laptop. Well, not actually mine but possession is 9/10ths of the law, right? I fold my arms and watch from my place, trying to keep my expression neutral as he empties out the contents, some clothes, shoes, jackets, baseball caps for Wren and me, the envelope of money and our old IDs.
“You got your electric bill,” he says, laying what looks to be my mail on the bed as well. “And… Saved the best for last.” He reaches into the bag again and draws out the Ziploc with the pistol in it.
The backpack was one thing but this? How did he find it? I feel the blood drain from my face at the sight and when the ringing between my ears starts, I reach for the edge of the nearest piece of furniture to stay upright but I find only air.
I stumble, but strong hands close over my arms to steady me.
“Easy, Blue.”
I feel his warmth, the heat of his body. I set my hands on his chest, concentrating on breathing, and try to keep him at arm’s length.
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine.”
He’s right, I’m not fine. I shake my head. I just need a minute. I let my fingers rest against his chest, feel the beating of his heart beneath the wall of muscle.
“Look at me.”
“I’m fine.” I feel queasy and if I had anything in my stomach, I’d probably have thrown it up.
“Blue?”
I force myself to open my eyes and it takes a moment for my pupils to focus, to see him clearly. He’s so close. Why is he so close? Why is he looking at me like he is?
But then his eyes flit to the scar and I turn my face to hide it from him.
“What just happened? It’s the second time I’ve seen you like that.”
I give a shake of my head, extricate myself and put some space between us. “Nothing,” I say, folding my arms across my chest.
“You stumbled. If I didn’t catch you, you would have fallen.”
“Well, aren’t you the gentleman? Oh wait, you’re not. Let me go. I’m fine.”
He raises his eyebrows and I know he won’t release me until I tell him.
“It’s nothing. I just get a little dizzy now and then. It takes a minute, and it passes.”
“What happens when you’re driving, and it happens? Or you’re at the top of the stairs?”
I give him a firmer shove. “I’m just hungry,” I lie. “Low blood sugar.” I pull free and take several steps away. “But it’s touching that you care.” I walk closer to the bed, eyeing the contents.
“Cynthia is preparing some food. We’ll eat soon.”
“Who’s Cynthia?”
“Cook.”
“She knows I’m here?”
He smiles. “She won’t help you. No one will.”
I study him. I know he’s right. “Did Wren text back?”
“Not yet.” He points to the bed. “Sit.”
“Tomorrow’s Sunday and it’s her birthday.”
“Is it?”
“I need to visit her.”
“Do you?”
“She has a routine. She relies on it.”
“I’m sure she does.”
“How long are you going to keep me here?”
He smiles, cocks his head, and folds his arms across his chest. “You’re blackmailing me. What do you think? I’m just going to let you walk away?”
I shiver with a sudden chill and rub my arms. No, he’s not. He’s not going to just let me walk away. Not when I can damage him.
“Let’s focus, Blue. I need you to fill in some blanks for me.” He steps closer, holds his phone out for me and when I look at it, I gasp with surprise. It’s a photo of me. My face. It’s from the night I took Wren to the hospital.