6. Amorette #2
“Am…Even Maman isn’t as strict as you are,” she said with equal love and exasperation. “You could come and make sure I stay out of trouble.”
“I have homework. And Ethan’s taking me to volunteer at the shelter downtown.” I patted her hand.
“Fine,” she grouched. Grace openly wore her moods for anyone to see, and the way her brows pinched and her nose crinkled gave all her irritation away. “I’ll try again tomorrow.”
I laughed. Her life goal was to make me live more ‘in the moment’. Mine was to inject a bit of ambition into her body…
The memory spun away on a slow-moving vortex, leaving me with the darkness of deep sleep. It didn’t last long. As soon as I started to wake up, my sister Grace popped back into my head. That had been our sophomore year. God, was that what, eight or nine years ago?
It seemed like decades.
I wished I could have spoken to her one more time, before I was taken. She’d go apeshit once she realized I was abducted. The scene she’d cause with the police and media would be epic and cringeworthy.
She was alone, even after I promised her we’d always be there for each other…
A heavy ache filled my chest. I expected tears, but the darkness around me was too strong to allow them.
Racing away from thoughts of Grace, I continued to play the rest of the memory in my head. Ethan and I hadn’t lasted. Of course, we hadn’t. He was too nice and docile for what I wanted out of life. But he was there for the moment I decided I wanted to go to law school.
He was the catalyst, really. His mom worked at the women’s shelter and being there, witnessing the hopelessness and fear in those women’s eyes, especially the ones with children, changed my life.
No longer asleep, I dreaded opening my eyes. What fresh hell would I be in now? The last thing I remembered was…
I struggled to sort through what happened, but my head throbbed when I focused too hard. The one brief minute of lucidity was melting into the desire to go back to sleep. I was so tired.
Groggy.
Then little clips filtered through the cracks of my mind.
Randall, the fuckface who wanted to hurt any woman he could get his hands on.
The crowd of men pressing closer and the fear pumping through my veins.
That beautiful man dressed in old jeans and a hoodie when all the other men were in various versions of black pants and shirts. They had been intimidated by him. I hadn’t imagined that. He’d held power over them but acted as if he disliked what they did.
I gasped, my eyes popping open.
That mother fucker drugged me!
Working on getting to a sitting position, I allowed myself the weakness of whimpering from the aches in my ribs. I wheezed from the mild exertion as if I’d ran ten miles. Damn it, this hurt! I almost flopped back down, but I managed to stack a few pillows up so I could lean against them.
While I peered around the room, I tested my body by moving my arms and legs, twisting back and forth. I was fairly confident I hadn’t been beaten anymore, but the soreness had set in. My chest was tight, and when I touched my ribs, they ached.
Glancing down, I stared at my gray t-shirt-covered chest. Okay, good. If this guy had stolen me from Randall, I could at least be happy he didn’t force me to be naked all the damn time. Hope that he wouldn’t expect the same as that hellhole sparked in the pit of my stomach.
The little things would keep me going.
It was clearly a man’s shirt because it engulfed my petite frame. My brothers had been giants but always picked on Grace and me for being so tiny, even tinier than our mother. We were the family’s petite fees , or little fairies.
The room I was in was also different from where he’d had me before. That room had been sterile and lacking any personality.
This room wasn’t the complete opposite, but there were some photos of random places hanging on the walls. The bedding was lightly patterned like expensive parchment.
Swinging my legs over the side, I slid off the bed. I had to steady myself once I was on my feet so I didn’t tumble over. Who knew if it was from my pain or hunger? I felt both with a vengeance.
Should I stay inside the room or attempt an escape? I searched for the mental fire I’d been operating on, though after a long, sedated sleep, my tank of emotions was strangely empty.
What was it about the faux safety of an empty room to calm me right down? Granted, I could blame my lack of energy on the lingering effects of the sedative. My thoughts turned to Grace for a brief moment, but I pushed them from my head even as I held them tight in my heart.
I could be weak when I was asleep. I could dream about the good times and miss her then. But not now. Any second, my captor could storm in and I’d need to be prepared.
Memories were a distraction that could get me killed.
It would happen. But that didn’t mean I was rushing to meet fate head-on. I would fight any way I could to get free.
Noises banged lightly on the other side of what I assumed to be the door out of the room. There were three altogether. One was open to an empty closet. One was closed right next to it, most likely a bathroom. Then there was the door on the other wall. That’s where the sounds were coming from.
Instead of heading to potential freedom or death, I wobbled to the bathroom to relieve myself as quietly as possible. I didn’t want to alert the person who was probably guarding me that I was awake.
After I peed, I didn’t flush. It rankled not to, but that was a first-world problem. I’d rather be the one controlling when they found out I was awake. As quickly as possible, I eased the faucet to a trickle and cupped my hand under it to catch the water.
I paused. I had no idea where I was, although I had strong suspicions I wasn’t in the US anymore. Depending on where I was, the water could make me sick.
Shit. I turned it off. They had been providing water from water bottles. There had to be a reason for that, right? Of course, they were nasty dirt-caked water bottles. That could have been their version of captive humor.
The more I was upright, the more awake I became. I was ready to find out where I was. The slight reprieve was nice, but I wasn’t a person who could flourish in naivety, especially when it wouldn’t last. I was too practical for that.
I needed to know who was here, and I needed to know what to expect. It was the only way I’d be able to devise a plan.
Sucking in a deep breath, I steeled myself for confrontation.
The knob was room temperature. The fact it wasn’t freezing cold like it would be back home only solidified my assumption that I was far, far away. I twisted, releasing a breath when it turned easily. So, Lafe wasn’t trying to lock me in.
Whatever I expected outside of the room, this wasn’t it. The space opened to an apartment. A nice one, with smooth walls, arched doorways, and an open kitchen and living room space. Green plants were spaced throughout the place and inviting furniture surrounded a large-screen TV.
What the fuck? I almost scrubbed at my tender eyes.
This wasn’t anything like what I’d seen at that warehouse, not even when he’d had me in that room.
Lafe stood at the island flipping bacon onto a napkin-covered plate. He must have been busy the last few minutes because a cutting board was next to the stove with slices of tomato, lettuce, and fresh sliced bread.
How had I not smelled the bacon?
He glanced at me as he turned the stove off. His dark sapphire blue eyes moved from the top of my unbrushed head down my naked legs to my feet. “The bruising looks better. Good. I was just about to come check on you. Are you hungry?”
He was being almost…kind. So either this was a dream, or he was more dangerous than I had initially thought, and I knew he had been the most dangerous man in the warehouse. What did he want?
“Come eat,” he said in that honeyed voice as he nodded toward the counter. A few stools were tucked underneath the island across from him. He must have assumed I’d listen to him without hesitation.
Dropping his gaze to the food, he assembled a thick BLT with a healthy dose of mayonnaise before sliding it across the island. Then he began making another one. For him?
“Why am I here?” My throat was sore, but my voice was mostly normal.
He rubbed his forehead like I was a pain in his ass. What right did he have to act like that? “You’re safe here with me. Come eat, and I’ll explain your options.”
I perked up, even if it was most likely a trap.
Options? Was he really so against what was happening that he was helping me escape? Elation that I might be able to see my sister again brought actual tears to my eyes.
It was foolish to believe him, but I wanted to, all the same. A pang of regret flashed through me at the thought of leaving all those women behind to suffer. No, I couldn’t allow that to stop me from saving myself. I could help them if I could get back home. That was what I did, my life’s work.
I ducked my head and shuffled forward. He didn’t get to see the way his words gave me hope. If this was indeed a sick twisted game to him, he’d prey on my reactions. For now, I’d play along. I needed to figure out what his endgame was before I did anything rash.
The savory smell of bacon made my stomach gurgle loudly. He passed over a glass of water poured from a filtered pitcher as I picked up half of the sandwich and crammed the corner in my mouth.
The salty bacon, fresh tomato, and lettuce were heavenly; possibly the best BLT I’d ever had. I’d also never been hungrier. Instantly, my stomach protested, but I ignored it. I needed food and this tasted too good.
I watched him as he pushed his own glass of water and plate to the spot next to me. His walk around the island was agitated, as if he had too much energy pent up inside his body.
It wouldn’t surprise me if he was into drugs. The way his hands had trembled. He had all the low-key signs of an addict, even if it hadn’t diminished his masculine beauty yet.
It would. Drugs always sucked the best out of people.
The stool scraped against the stylish concrete floor, and he sat so he faced me. Instead of eating his own food, he watched me. That was fine, let him watch.
“You have a choice to make, Killer.”