Page 8 of Red

She turned away. “Are you going to sell me to someone else, then?” There was a hint of hope in the question.

“Hmm…do you want me to sell you to someone else? Am I so frightening to you?”

Fire blazed in her eyes when she turned them on him.

“You can huff and puff all you want, but I’m not afraid of you. Whatever you do, I’ll be fine.” She thrust up her chin and rolled her shoulders back. She wasn’t trying to convince him; she was giving herself a pep talk.

He picked up a lock of her red hair and rolled it between his fingers.

“I think you have the wrong story in your head, Red.” He dropped her hair and ran his thumb over her jawline. So tight and tense, ready to fight him, and she didn’t even know what she was fighting for.

“Red?” She jerked away from him. “How original. I’ve never been called that before.”

Her insubordination teetered on the line of unacceptable. She was still unaccepting of her fate, still unsure of what was coming. It was only natural she be scared, a little fired-up, but he couldn’t let it go on for too long.

“You can’t stay in this room with the broken window, and you’ve shown me you can’t behave on your own, so you’ll have to be moved into my room.”

The initial flash of fear in her eyes wrapped around him like a warm blanket.

“Mr. Rawling?” Dr. Abbante’s voice carried from the bedroom.

“Remember what I said.” He tapped her lips. “Don’t try to involve him.”

“Oh, there you are,” Dr. Abbante said from the doorway.

“Yes. Here we are. Let’s do this in my room. Then Melinda can go right to bed once you’re done caring for her wound.”

Erik cupped Melinda’s elbow and led her from the bathroom.

A shiver ran through her body at his touch, making him grin.

This might be more fun than he’d thought.

Chapter 3

Melinda was going to vomit. Her stomach rolled with every step she took across the bedroom, through the adjoining door, and then into another bedroom. She didn’t have time to look around, too busy trying to keep her stomach inside her body.

“Okay, let’s have a look.” Dr. Abbante, a short, older appearing man, pulled a chair out from a small writing desk and offered it to her. She sank onto it, lifting her hand for the doctor when he gestured for it.

He unwrapped the towel and dropped it on the desk. After pushing up his glasses, he held her palm closer to his face.

“Hmm, not very deep. Looks like you got lucky. I don’t think stitches are needed, but you’ll have to keep the area clean, which will be hard to do with where you cut yourself.” Dr. Abbante let go of her and opened his medical kit.

Erik’s phone rang, and he stepped away. Melinda watched him slide one hand into his pocket while the other held the phone, and he paced across the room while he talked.

“Does it hurt a lot?” the doctor asked.

“What?” She refocused on the doctor. He smeared an oily ointment across the cut. “No, it’s better now.”

“Good. I’ll wrap a clean bandage around your hand, but you’ll need to change it in the morning. Keep it wrapped for a day then you can leave it off, so long as the cut has started to heal.”

“Dr. Abbante,” she said in a hushed and hurried manner. “You have to help me. Please.”

He blinked a few times at her; his graying bushy eyebrows rose. “I am helping.” He held up the gauze and medical tape.

“No.” She shook her head. “I mean, you have to get me out of here. Erik abducted me.” She cast a quick glance to be sure Erik was still wrapped up in his conversation.

“You’re saying he brought you here against your will?”

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