Page 5 of Bleeding Blackheart

Oh, I’m fucked. This man is going to torture me and kill me in a brutal way. I can almost feel it. I want to scream for help, but I know no one’s near. I’m stuck here.

And the money. Once I give him that money, I won’t have a damn thing left. But I have to give it to him if I want to see another day.

I look up into his eyes then turn away, seeing my father through them. I try to keep my voice calm and confident although I’m seconds away from pissing myself. “I’ll get you your money. Before the weekend’s out. But I need a shower first.”

He grunts. “Where’s the fucking money?”

“I have to take you to it. It’s not in the state, but you can have it by tomorrow. I swear. Just let me rinse off.”

He just stares at me, shaking his head while he mutters something I don’t make out.

Desperation takes over me while I clench my fists. “Please. Could you have a little mercy?”

The man looks me over again, and I can’t make out his expression. He could be turned on or disgusted, and I wouldn’t be able to tell the difference. One of his strong hands grips my right ankle, and he glares at me. “One shower. But if you try to run, I swear to you, Montana, there will be no warning. I’ll shoot you immediately.”

One thing I’ve always been able to do is tell when someone’s bluffing. This man is definitely not. As much as I want to run, I know I won’t get away if I try. I tilt my chin up and nod my head slowly. “I swear. I won’t go anywhere.”

He takes a deep breath, slinging his gun over his shoulder while he unchains me. I reach for my ankles, needing to rub them for relief, but he yanks my wrist, dragging me to the edge of the bed on my knees. “Slow movements. Don’t make me concerned.”

My tears start to fall, and I brush them away with my unrestrained hand. “I’m sorry. I’m just in pain.”

He looks me up and down, refusing to acknowledge my statement, and lets me go. “Get up. Walk outside slowly.”

I force my way up on my aching limbs, and I step out of the open shed. The light from outside blinds me and makes my head pound, and I stand in an open field, feeling more exposed than I’d like.

As if he can sense my thoughts, my warden pushes me forward slowly, keeping his hand on the center of my back. “No one can see you. Nearest house is thirty miles.”

We walk slowly up to a massive brick house, and we head toward what appears to be the front of it. When we reach the steps up to the porch, the man scoops me up into his arms, showing me a side I didn’t expect him to have.

Knowingly, he looks down at me and scoffs. “Don’t you dare for a second think I give a damn about you. I don’t want you tracking dirt into my house.”

Of course. There’s no way a man who threatened to cap me several times would care about me. He shakes my body and gives it a light squeeze. “Wrap your fucking arms around me. If you fall, I’m not picking you back up.”

I do as I’m told, draping my aching arm that was IV’ed over his broad shoulders, and I loop my other arm around his front, feeling his pounding heart under his warm chest.

When we get to the second floor, he leads me to the end of the hallway into what appears to be his bedroom. Iglance around quickly before he takes me in the bathroom, setting me down on my feet. “You want a bath or a shower?”

I look up at the man who fishes soap from under his dual vanity sink and grabs a white towel from his linen closet and a washcloth. “I’m not sure. I’ll figure it out. Thanks.”

He shakes his head, rubbing his beard. I can’t tell if he’s thirty or fifty. He could easily be both. “I’m not going anywhere, Montana.”

I cross my arms, trying to cover my generous breasts but fail, only bringing more attention to them as they hang over my arms. “I’m not going to bathe while you stand by watching me like some pervert.”

He raises a brow, stepping close enough that I can feel his body heat. “You’ll wash up in front of me, or I’ll send you to your father in a coffin before I have lunch. You pick.”

He’s really serious. I bite my wobbling lip and smooth back my damp, tangled hair. “Could you at least turn around?”

He chuckles, and I get my very first glimpse at his teeth. Straight, white, and plentiful. There isn’t the slightest chip or flaw. He takes off his hat, setting it on the counter. “Turn around and what? Give you the chance to knock me over the head? I don’t fucking think so.”

I guess he has no reason to trust me. Still, this is beyond uncomfortable. But I guess it’s better than dying.

He sits in one of the vanity chairs. “Shower or bath?”

I roll my eyes, hating the way he speaks to me like I’m some unruly child. He stands up, smoothing back his thick brown hair. “Fine. You’ll do both since you want to give me the fucking silent treatment. You smell bad enough for both.” He walks around me, still keeping me in his line of sight while he gets the shower going. “Get in, and you’ll get in the bath after.”

I step into the glass chamber while he slides the door closed behind me, watching me through it. I try to remove my bandage, but he kicks the glass while he sits in front of it. “Don’t mess with it. I’ll change it in a bit. Scrub good but don’t take all damn day.”

Reaching for the fresh cloth on the hook in front of me, I grab the bar of lavender soap off the metal shower caddy and scrub it along the fabric, trying to get it to lather. My fingers sting when the soap seeps into my broken skin, but I ignore it. What matters more to me right now is that I’m finally washing myself of the stench from my father’s imprisonment.

---