Chapter 22 #2
Okay, he wasn’t gonna hurt her… yet, but it was time to switch paths.
She let out a slow breath and pondered her next words carefully.
Hatred flew from his gaze as if it could pierce her with one look.
She fought the urge to flinch. She needed to stay strong.
Showing fear would only feed his power addiction, which she was sure he had.
He set his whittling down and stepped closer to her, knife still in his hand. “A woman like you doesn’t care what she does to a man. Leads them on, toys with their hearts, and then drops them with no warning, no word.”
He had a point. She’d dated a few guys who didn’t go beyond the first date, but something in Corey’s eyes made her think this wasn’t just about him.
Addison had been in a few relationships, had a few flings, but as far as she knew, they were fine with it. She didn’t have any pining exes out there. She opened her mouth to tell him that, but the hatred on his face had her closing it again.
“You don’t remember, do you?”
At least they were getting somewhere. He was talking.
She waited for him to continue. When he didn’t, she said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Corey.”
She kept her voice calm, not snarky like the tone in her head. If she wasn’t tied up right now, she would slap him silly. Maybe even pull one of her Tae-Bo kicks out, a roundhouse to the jaw.
The fuzziness was fading, but the plastic ties and cords held her tight.
“Corey. I’m Corey Miller.” His voice was clear and low.
“Yes.” Either Corey was having a memory lapse, or she was missing something, because she knew his name.
“Slim.”
She graduated with a Slim Miller. Maybe he was related to Corey. But why would he be bringing up Slim? They never went out. Heck, she hadn’t seen him since high school.
“Corey, are you related to Slim?”
“That’s what you guys all called me, but my name is Corey.”
Shut the front door! Slim was Corey? No way. She’d known Slim from the time they were little, and she had never heard him called anything but Slim. Now that she thought of it, maybe she had heard his name was Corey once. Thinking back, she barely knew him. They didn’t run in the same circles.
“Come on. You weren’t that drunk at prom that you don’t remember.” He gave a dry laugh, one loud bark that cut through the small interior. “Prom party? Senior year?”
She scrunched her face, pondering old memories. Her prom date was Brent, and he was an ass. At the after party, he put the moves on her. She kicked him in the balls and got a ride home with…
Recognition hit. She looked at Corey. He grinned—a sad smile.
“Yeah, now you remember.”
“That was you?” He helped her out of a horrible situation, and… her shoulders slumped. She gave him a kiss on the cheek, thanked him, and told him she owed him a pizza.
The blood drained from her face and an icy chill covered her body. Could he have thought it was more than a gesture of appreciation?
“Listen, I don’t know whatever you thought, but I really, really appreciated you coming to my rescue that night. But Corey, come on. You can’t still be upset that I didn’t buy you a pizza?”
Corey’s expression turned somber. Old memories haunted behind his eyes. “I could have used a friend back then.” He tipped his head up. His eyes bore into hers. “I waved at you in the hall. You turned the other way.”
“I’m sure I didn’t see you.”
His expression screamed bullshit.
She shrugged. “What can I say? I was a bitch back then. But it was one interaction. It’s not like we even had a date.”
“No, Greg was more your type.”
She dropped back onto the cot. Greg. How could she have forgotten Greg Miller? He was the starting quarterback for three years and had a full-ride offer to the U of M. He was night and day different from his twin brother. Her gaze dropped to his purple jersey.
Sadness ran through Corey’s blue eyes. No. Grief. Pain. Still present after a dozen years.
On instinct, she leaned forward, reaching for him. Her restraints stopped her.
Right. He took her hostage. Her wrists were chafing from the plastic ties. Between the electrical cords and the ties, she was trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey.
“Corey, I—” It didn’t matter that she didn’t have words.
From the look on his face, she could apologize until she was out of breath.
He wasn’t going to listen. But she had to say it, if not for him, for her.
“I’m sorry. Sorry you lost your brother.
Sorry I was a bitch. Sorry we never had pizza and became friends. ”
Her life might be in danger, but she couldn’t lie and say they would have dated.
Old Addison wouldn’t have gone out with a guy less than an eight on the hotness scale.
And while Corey was a solid seven now, he was not even a five back in school.
He could have been great, but she wasn’t mature enough to see it.
She locked gazes with him. Tried to convey all the regret she was feeling. “Can we start over?”
A dry laugh filled the room. “I think it’s a little late for that.” He leaned in. The knife flashed in his hand.
Shit. She’d forgotten about the weapon. She opened her mouth to scream, and he pressed the knife to her throat.
“Of all the things I wanted to do to you, slitting this pretty throat wasn’t number one.” Corey ran his other hand down her cheek. His focus shifted from her eyes to her mouth.
“This isn’t going to bring Greg back.”
His eyes flashed, and spit flew from his mouth as he laughed. “Why would I want him back? The golden child… the star athlete… the bully.”
It hadn’t been grief in his eyes, but envy.
He cupped her face. His fingers dug into her cheeks.
Hell, no! She suppressed her trembling at his touch. She wouldn’t go down this way.
His focus locked on her mouth. He stroked a thumb over her lower lip.
Addison held her breath and chopped down—hard.
His curses filled the tiny space. The knife clattered on the cot.
Addison searched, her fingers on a mission for the blade.
“You bitch!” He slapped her.
Pain radiated through her cheek. She scowled at him, but inside, a thread of relief burst in her chest as her fingers touched the sharp edge of the blade.
Palming the knife, she shifted her weight to conceal the weapon.
Her hands and feet were bound, but she was able to move her legs.
Scrunching up her knees, she kicked with both feet, channeling all her strength behind the action.
The move caught him off guard. She feverishly worked at the ties with the knife, but by the rage in his eyes, she didn’t have much time.
He dropped his head to the side and cracked his neck.
Shit. This was game on. She sawed faster. Her breath released when she felt the tie give and her hands were free. With renewed strength, she sliced at the air between them.
His eyes widened.
That’s right. She had the weapon now, and she wasn’t going down without a fight. A little plastic wouldn’t stop her.