Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 89093 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89093 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
I thought Uncle Kevin was uber-rich when he spruiked about having six toilets. I learned otherwise when we went for a visit. His workers didn’t dig the holes deep enough. Even months after returning to the States, I could still smell the stew they ate the night we arrived.
When the bearded man pries open the door of his rectangular box, I hold my breath. As predicted, his ‘toilet’ is a hole in the ground with a makeshift toilet seat dangling above it.
Thankfully, the smell is nowhere near as bad as I was anticipating.
He must have dug a hole deep enough to invade China.
“You really need to stop doing that,” I grind out through clenched teeth when a second after he lifts the toilet seat, his hand slithers under my shirt to glide my panties to my knees.
Although I’m busting to pee, I hold back the urge. The stranger is crouched directly in front of me. He’s closer to my private parts than Cedric has been in months.
When he shuffles even closer like he’s striving to determine if the gurgling of my stomach is because I need a bowel movement, I bite out, “Can you please turn around. I can’t… pee…” yep, that was delivered as immaturely as you’re thinking, “… with an audience.”
My mouth falls open when his huff sounds like a breathy chuckle. It was nowhere near as deep as the one he did when I dragged a knife across his chest. It is more breathy and carefree, and it has me shocked. It’s proof he can understand me even with him wishing he can’t.
The way he shifts his head to the right when I commence talking is proof of this. “Anything that happened while I was unconscious doesn’t count. I didn’t have a choice back then—”
When he roars at me, I shit myself, but mercifully, pee is the only thing that comes out.
With the smugness in his eyes way too obnoxious for a man with a bloodstained beard and my bladder’s screams finally answered, the stranger hands me a square patch of fur.
“What do you want me to do with that?”
His nostrils flare during his breathy grunt before he lowers his eyes to my vagina.
“No. Nuh-uh. Not happening.” I thrust the patch of fur back his way. “I’ll drip dry—” My words are replaced with a squeal when he snatches up the fur, wipes me from front to back like every little girl is taught, yanks my panties up my thighs, then tosses me back onto his shoulder.
“You know they have this great thing called toilet paper. You should look it up sometime.” Our return to the cabin is so quick, I’m dumped onto the bed before half his groan leaves his mouth, then he attempts to restrain me like I’m the criminal half of our duo. “You don’t need to tie me up. You have a gun and a predicted thirty-five inches of snow in your favor. What more do you need?”
I shouldn’t feel guilty when he thrusts his hand at his busted nose. However, I do.
It won’t stop me from another attempt to flee, though.
After ramming my palm into the orifice he highlighted, I sprint for the door.
I’m not planning to run through it.
I’m after his gun.
It doesn’t matter who you are in the world, no one wants to come face to face with a weapon capable of slicing you in two.
I’ve barely sprinted three steps away from the bed when the vine I didn’t realize the stranger fixed to my wrist is yanked. I fly backward with a high-pitch squeal before I’m reeled in like a prized catch in a fishing competition.
“You can’t keep me here!” I push out with a huff before folding my arms under my chest. “My fiancé will be looking for me, and when he finds me, you’ll—”
The stranger clamps his hand over my mouth, silencing more than just my lies.
Chapter Eight
With a grunt, I move away from the object the stranger is jabbing into my back. I don’t care if it is a churro dipped in Nutella, I’m not playing his games anymore. Being paralyzed by fear is nothing to joke about. It’s a manic psychosis that could end my medical career if it ever got out, yet he used it against me like the words I were speaking could be more detrimental to my health than him.
We all know that’s a lie.
“No!” I snap out when he yanks on my shoulder.
He ignores my plea—as he has every grumbled comment the past several hours—by forcefully rolling me over until I’m staring at the ceiling instead of the wall. I’m still tied to the bed, but the length of the vine was shortened so no matter how hard I stretch, my hands won’t get close to any dangerous instruments in the kitchen.