Chapter 2 #2
I’m aware of a door opening, and then he climbs into the back of a vehicle and shuts the door. He leans me back in his arms and reaches across the seat to grab something.
Renewed strength causes me to buck upward and reach for the door, but he traps me against him with an arm around my waist. I hear a zipper behind me, and then he tilts me back again and gently wipes my face.
“I know you’re scared, angel, but I swear you’re safe.” He continues cleaning me up with a soft cloth. I think it’s a T-shirt. He wipes my eyes and my cheeks and my nose.
He smells good, and that annoys me. Plus, he’s attractive.
That pisses me off even more. I shouldn’t find any man attractive.
Fuck men. But this one is really good-looking.
Deep brown eyes bore into me. His brow is furrowed, putting a wrinkle between his eyes.
He has thick brown hair and a well-groomed beard.
It’s soft. I know because my cheek has rubbed against it several times.
I stare at him. My heart slows. Could I possibly be safe? No. Of course not. I’ll never be safe. But I do feel in significantly less danger than I did five minutes ago.
“What’s your name, angel?”
I stare at him. There’s no fucking way I’m giving him my name. Not even my first name. I may never give it to another living soul again.
He sets the T-shirt aside and brushes curls from my forehead. “It’s okay. You don’t have to talk.” He reaches around me again. This time, he holds up a bottle of water. “I bet you’re thirsty.”
I stare at it for a moment. Is this a trick? I feel like a dumb girl who got lured into a van with promises of candy or puppies. That’s basically what happened today. I’ve made so many bad choices in my life that I probably am a dumb girl. But, fuck me, I’ve also had really bad luck.
Cannon. What kind of name is that? He unscrews the lid from the bottle and holds it out.
I’m suddenly very thirsty, so I reach for it, but my hand is shaking violently, and the moment I grab it, water sloshes over the top.
It splashes all down the front of both of us, and I gasp, flinching and pinning my gaze on Cannon’s.
It’s a knee-jerk reaction to expect him to slap me for getting his shirt wet.
Instead, he wraps his steady hand around mine, pulls me more upright, and tips the water toward my lips.
I guzzle it because I’m so fucking parched.
Cannon doesn’t admonish me in any way. He doesn’t say a word as I drain the water bottle. When it’s gone, he tosses it on the seat. “Good girl. You can have more in a minute. I don’t want you to have too much at once. Your stomach will get upset.”
I stare at him. I can’t breathe. Did he just call me a good girl?
No one has ever called me a good girl. Tears run down my cheeks.
I can’t stop them. I have the sense that he really might be a nice guy who rescued me with no ulterior motive.
I’ve developed a sixth sense for assholes, and I don’t get that vibe from Cannon.
Although heaven knows I’ve been wrong before. Pete, for example.
I suppose there are some decent men in the world, but I’ve rarely met them. I had a guidance counselor in high school who tried to help me once when I was about fifteen, but I only saw him a few times before I was transferred to another foster family and had to switch schools.
A few times, I thought men were going to be nice to me, and then I found out they just wanted something.
Usually sex. I’ve had a rough life. I deserve a fucking break even if it’s only for ten minutes in the back of this SUV.
I’m going to pretend this gorgeous man who’s looking me in the eyes like I matter is kind.
I can’t wrap my head around any other possibilities today. I’m tapped out.
Cannon picks up the T-shirt again and wipes my cheeks. “Is anyone looking for you, angel?”
I swallow. I’m not going to answer that question either. For some reason, I don’t feel like lying to this man, but there’s no way I’m going to divulge a single word of my truth.
He strokes my cheek. “It’s okay,” he repeats. “I get it. You don’t know me. Why should you trust me? I bet you trusted Pete Stark, and that didn’t go so well for you.”
No, it did not. He’s right.
“You’re probably thinking I’m no better than him. I just yanked you out of that house with no explanation and brought you to my SUV. I’m a stranger. I understand why you’re hesitating.”
He pushes the sleeve up on my shirt and examines my wrist. When he’s done, he does the same to the other arm. “He tied you so tightly that you really didn’t have any way to rub your skin raw.”
I ignore him. I’m immune to the ache in my arms and wrists. I clear my throat. “Are you going to take me to the police station?”
He licks his lips. “Is that what you want?”
What a strange response. No, I don’t fucking want to go to the police, but who the fuck is this guy if he’s not the police? I slowly shake my head.
“Then, no. I won’t take you to the police station.” He doesn’t ask me why I don’t want to go. He just affirms he won’t do it.
“How did you…” I don’t quite know what to ask.
“How did we find you? We work for a private agency. We’ve been watching that house for a few weeks. As soon as we saw that he’d taken you hostage, we came, but we were two hours away. I’m sorry it took so long.”
“Is his wife okay?”
Cannon frowns. “His wife?” Then his face smooths out. “You must mean June. Yes, she’s safe. How do you know June?”
“I don’t. He kept talking about her. I think he was using me to lure her home. I didn’t expect her to come. He’s unhinged. He would have killed both of us.”
“I suspect so, yes. She hired us. How did you know Pete?”
“I didn’t. My car ran out of gas a few miles down the road. He stopped to help me.” I roll my eyes.
Cannon winces. “I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine the trauma you’ve been through.”
I don’t respond. I’ve been through so much trauma in my life that this incident will feel like a blip on the radar in a few days. My luck is so bad that I’m sure someone will actually rape and murder me by the end of the week. Why not? I obviously pissed off some higher being in a previous life.