Page 18 of Suspicion

“I’m coming.” She refused to meet his stare as she walked back toward him, her gaze remaining rooted to the ground.

He noticed how she’d edged her joggers further up her hips, so the majority of her backside was now covered, but he resisted the urge to press the point. There would be plenty of time to strip the tantalizing blonde.

Let her think she’d won this battle. The war was still to come.

“Well done.” He hadn’t intended for his tone to be so patronizing, but as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other, he realized that he might mean the sentiment. “You didn’t run.”

“I told you I wouldn’t.”

Her chin rose, allowing her eyes to find his. He was surprised at the resolve he found there and by the conviction in her tone. Clearly, little Ella had more steel than he’d given her credit for.

“You did.” He arched a brow at her. “And I trusted you. How about that—we’re getting on like a house on fire?”

“Right.” Her tone was cynical, but he noticed how her lips twitched. “Brilliant. Mind if I take my sweater off?” She motioned to the chunky hoodie she was wearing. “I’m hot.”

“Sure, but since I’m not untying your hands, it will have to stay tucked at your wrists.” As far as he was concerned, he’d been compromising enough.

Her brow creased. “Can’t you just untie me?”

“No can do.”

“Forget it then.” She sighed, her resignation making him wonder if the suggestion had only been a plan to make a break for it, after all.

“Fine.” It was no skin off his nose as he glanced in the direction of home. “Let’s carry on, then.”

“Please, may I walk?” She caught her lip between her teeth as though she accepted it was an ask too far.

“No chance.” Chuckling, he beckoned her forward with his index finger. He’d been willing to compromise to tend to her physical needs, but Ella needed to understand—she was still the hostage. “Over my shoulder, young lady.”

Chapter Seven

Unraveling

Ella

“We’re here.”

Slumped over his shoulder, Ella tensed at his tone. Being thrown over him like a sack of potatoes had been awful enough. Being so helpless and exposed was the worst experience, but in the end, her impotency had been the least of her concerns. The fact that the blood rushed to her head was horrible, as was the fact that she could hardly even move and was struggling to take a decent breath from her absurd position, but the prospect of what was to come filled her with absolute dread.

What would Tucker do next?

How was she going to survive?

Her heart pounded as he passed the threshold, her gaze registering the dark wooden floorboards as his muddied boots halted on them.

If only I had my phone. Regret echoed in her mind. I could call for help and have this son-of-a-bitch locked up.

But she didn’t have the device. Likely, her dad had taken it away, along with her hope. She might never see her phone again.

“Time to get down.”

She was unceremoniously lowered to her feet, her head spinning as she glanced quickly around her new prison.

Prison. Her brow creased as she grappled with the stark new reality. Once enveloped in luxury and indulgence, the place she found herself a barren box by comparison. The building looked to be a wood cabin built in the same dark timber she’d seen on the floor. If it was possible, her pulse quickened at the bleak hue, its foreboding vista ratcheting up the tension in her tummy.

Who would have chosen the lumber for a home?

Turning her head, she caught sight of her answer as he marched to the door. Her throat dried when he bolted the door behind them, securing her incarceration with an enormous key that reminded her of an old-fashioned jailer.

---