Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 59044 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 295(@200wpm)___ 236(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59044 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 295(@200wpm)___ 236(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
“Drea,” he said, spitting her name like a curse. “She cornered me and told me that I was a creep. And I needed to go before she called the police.”
“Why would she do that?” I asked.
“Because you told her I was a creep.”
Okay.
Guilty there.
“I said you were watching me,” I said. “I think… I think she must have taken that the wrong way. I didn’t mean that I didn’t… like it,” I said.
That felt like it came off on a false note.
So I wanted to rush to change the conversation.
“Gene, do you have a sweater? Or a jacket?” I asked. “I’m so cold,” I said.
“Oh,” he said, looking me over, and I didn’t like the way his gaze lingered on where my robe split.
“Or a blanket, maybe?” I asked, letting my voice go small and sweet. I let myself tremble harder, and watched as he looked a mix of sympathetic and frustrated.
I could deal with frustrated if it just gave me five extra minutes. Each one counted.
I had no clue how long I’d been knocked out for.
Hopefully more than half an hour.
Someone would know I was missing by then.
Steps would be taken to find me.
The spa had cameras. Someone would request to see them. Drea would definitely recognize Gene if she’d been the one to threaten him.
Then, well, I would imagine my father had his address, or the police could find it.
Though, yeah, I was clearly not in his home.
Maybe I was hoping for too much that someone would find me before Gene got ideas about doing the things to me he’d clearly been obsessing about for years at this point.
“Fine,” Gene said with a sigh. “I’ll be right back.”
With that, he disappeared out the swinging door he’d entered through, and I was finally alone to look around again, wondering if there was anything around I could use as a weapon. When he came back with the sweater or blanket, I could complain that my shoulders hurt, and see if he would take off my binds.
Then, if I could distract him, and maybe grab for what looked like an old glass bottle of vodka, I could crack him on the head with it and run.
If this wasn’t Gene’s home, then I couldn’t reasonably assume Julian would find me.
I had to try to save myself.
Decision made, I deliberately kept my gaze off of the bottle as Gene came striding back in, holding a freaking bath towel in his hands.
“This is all I could find.”
“Oh, that’s okay. It will help. But… but I can’t hold it around me,” I said as he draped it over my shoulders. Like the towel was on my side, it slid right off my shoulders. “Could I… could you…” I said, wiggling my hands.
“Um…”
“I’m not going anywhere,” I said, rolling my eyes with a smile. Like he was the silliest guy in the world to even think that. “I just want to hold the towel and warm up, so we can talk more. My teeth are starting to chatter,” I insisted.
He looked conflicted for a moment.
And when he pulled a switchblade out of his pocket and flicked it open, I felt my stomach plummeting as my pulse accelerated.
But I forced a relieved smile.
“Thank you,” I said as he went for the zip ties binding my wrists, and cut them free.
My shoulders immediately eased forward, curling in toward my chest for a second as the pain eased.
Pins and needles assaulted my arms and hands as Gene reached for the towel again. When he draped it, I focused hard to make my weighted, numb hands raise and close over the material, holding it in place.
“That’s so much better,” I said, nodding at him as he moved back over toward the counter, setting down the switchblade.
Well, that made two weapons.
“Why are we in this kitchen?” I asked, genuinely curious.
“Don’t you remember?” he asked, looking hurt.
“This kitchen? No,” I said, shaking my head.
“Not this kitchen, but this bar,” he said.
“Well, ah, I haven’t seen the bar,” I reminded him. He’d carried me in here unconscious. But if I had a chance to have him move me closer to the street, I was going to take it. “I’m sure I’ll remember it, though.”
Yes, I was usually drunk at bars, but that didn’t mean I was so wasted that I didn’t remember them. I did.
“Yeah?” he asked, head cocked to the side.
“Yeah,” I said. “It sounds like it was special to us.”
“It was,” he agreed, puffing up. As if I could ever want this freaking lunatic. “Come on. I’ll show you,” he said, holding out an arm, but waiting for me to get to my own feet.
I did it carefully, trying not to flash him, then moved slowly across the floor, praying he would turn forward before I got past the counter.
I tried to relax my features, but I felt the tension building until, finally, he turned.