Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 91042 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91042 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
“You go first,” I told him, deciding I didn’t like the idea of having my back to him.
He cocked an eyebrow. “Why?”
I straightened my shoulders, wanting to appear taller than my five-foot-seven frame. Normally, I never felt short. I had always been taller than Perry. But Oz was well over six feet tall.
“I don’t want to chance you grabbing me by the neck and slinging me backward down the stairs.”
His face morphed into a pained wince. “What the fuck kinda shit have you been making up in your head down here?”
I tilted my chin back and held my head high. “I like crime shows—Law & Order, CSI, True Detective. I know what criminals do.”
The corner of his lips twitched like he was going to smile, but he didn’t. Then, he shook his head and walked to the stairs. When he started up them, I followed. The farther away I got, the more relief I felt that I’d never see this basement again. When we made it to the top and he closed the door behind me, then hung the key back where I had taken it from, he turned to me.
“Do you want to shower before we go? I can fix you something to eat that you can take with us.”
That was such a thoughtful, polite thing for a murderer to say. It was when he was like this that I let myself forget the devil inside.
“I can take a quick shower just to get the basement stench off. Can I take some water to drink up with me?” I was so freaking thirsty.
He walked over to the fridge, and the memory of him holding me against it this morning had me dropping my gaze to the floor instead. I heard him open it and waited until it was closed before looking back up at him. He had two bottles of water.
“Here. Drink both. I’ll pack you two more for the road.”
Again, so very nice and un-psychopathic of him.
I took them. “Thanks. I will be fast. I promise.”
“I washed your clothes and put them in there for you to change into.”
He’d washed my clothes. I just stared at him, about to thank him again, then reminded myself that this man had abducted me and tried to starve me, then kill me. I said nothing, instead turning to go back to the bedroom one more time. Then leave this prison for good. And get home and find out what I needed to do to save my brother.
He had packed me a brown paper bag with two sandwiches, an orange, a ziplock full of berries, and a slice of chocolate cake, along with two large bottles of water. I thanked him before I could stop myself. Two hours ago, we’d climbed into his black SUV with dark-tinted windows and driven away from the house.
After eating a sandwich, two strawberries, and the chocolate cake, I drank a bottle of water.
My eyes were heavy now, but there was no way I was closing them.
We had barely spoken. He’d asked me if he needed to stop to let me get any groceries before taking me home. I had said no, although I doubted there was much there for me to eat. I rarely had a lot of food in my apartment. Not because I couldn’t afford it, but I hated to waste anything. When you grew up without having the means to eat properly, you were careful not to take it for granted. I bought what I knew I would eat each week and nothing more.
He had also asked me what kind of music I liked to listen to. I told him Ariana Grande, Nickelback, Britney Spears, and Taylor Swift were some of my favorites, and his horrified grimace almost made me laugh.
He had replied, “Forget I asked,” then put it on a country station.
Not that I was keeping track, but the last thing that had been said was a little over an hour ago. Okay, it had been sixty-four minutes, but the clock was right there and was hard to miss. He had suggested I get some sleep. That black flag of his might as well have been flying high because—oh, hell no!—I was keeping my eyes open and making sure this vehicle stayed on the path to Madison. My phone was tucked into my pocket, but I hadn’t even checked my emails. When he’d handed it back to me, I’d taken it from him and put it away.
“You’re determined to stay awake,” he said, breaking the silence.
I cut my eyes at him. “Yeah.”
“Any reason why? Your eyes are so fucking heavy; it’s verging on painful.”
Had he been looking at me? I’d not seen him even glance this way.
“I do not trust you,” I told him honestly, turning my attention back to the road in front of us.