Page 17 of Oh, Hell No

I hadn’t expected that outcome. Again, the guilt that I’d just given them the name of a man I couldn’t be sure was connected to anything was there, but the reward part might be worth it. Which made me a terrible person.

How would I sleep at night?

I glanced back at the hard concrete floor and decided I wasn’t going to sleep much anyway. I might as well be clean while I satawake down here, feeling like the pits of hell were licking at my feet.

“You give me information that leads to your brother, and I will give you what you want. Well, at least the things within my power. Freedom is not one of those. Not until we have Perry.”

Right. But what if I couldn’t answer any more of his questions? That had been pure luck that I remembered that.

Shoving that panic away until the time came, I nodded.

I’d just be sure to make this one hell of an epic shower. I wondered if I could shower, then take a bubble bath. That would be wonderful.

Eight

Winslet

While I had been living in a basement that was dark, damp, and smelly, Oz had been living in the most fabulous house I’d ever been inside. The further he took me into the massive home, the more amazed I was. I felt like I had stepped back in time to the pre–Civil War South.

“Is this an antebellum home?” I asked, unsure if that was what they called them. I wasn’t very educated on architecture.

“It’s considered a Greek Revival mansion. I’d guess it’s circa 1832,” Oz replied.

The red-carpeted grand staircase he brought me to was so unbelievable that I had to take a moment and soak it in. A chandelier hung from the ceiling. I glanced over at the windows and saw the sun hadn’t fully come up yet. It was early in the morning.

“What time is it?” I asked because I had no idea what time wehad arrived here fifty-eight hours ago.

“Five thirty,” he replied.

I tried to do the math in my head, but I was too tired and gave up.

“This place is remarkable,” I said, finally following him up the steps.

“Yeah, if you can overlook the past. Prejudice bastards built the place,” he replied dryly.

I hadn’t thought of that. I studied things as we climbed the staircase, seeing it in a different light now.

Way to put a damper on it, Oz.

But he was right. The South had been a dark place for many back when this home was built.

“Maybe they weren’t slave owners,” I said, wanting to believe that.

He reached the top step, but didn’t glance back at me. “Don’t kid yourself. They were. All the wealthy at that time were. This house was probably taken from them in the war. If they hadn’t evacuated it already, they were forced out. It looks new because it was restored from what I assume were ruins. It was moved to this location. That much I know.”

He walked down a wide hallway with tall, elaborate doors that looked true to the period of time the house was built. If it had been in ruins, whoever had restored it had money. There was no way this could have been affordable to bring back to its former beauty.

“Who owns this house? Is it yours?” I asked him.

He stopped at a door and waved a hand for me to go inside, but didn’t respond. Curious to see more, I went into the room and gasped at the sight before me. The walls were painted a powder-blue color with tall windows that had drapes hanging from the ceiling to the floor. A cherrywood canopy bed sat in the center, looking every bit as historical as the home itself. Every piece offurniture caught my attention.

“I would never buy a house from this time in our history,” he informed me, then pointed at a door across the room. “A bathroom is in there. It is stocked with everything you need. I put a change of clothing for you in there as well.”

The house and its furnishings forgotten, I stared at the door that led to all my current wants and needs. I started to saythank youand stopped myself before I could. I wasn’t going to thank a man who had kept me in a basement for over two days and was planning on returning me to said hellhole after I took care of all my hygiene needs.

“Don’t try something stupid, like escaping. The windows all have alarms, and you can’t get most open anyway. Not to mention, from up here, if you tried to jump, it would most likely result in your death. I’m downstairs, and I’ll hear every step you take. We are miles away from any other house.”

I hadn’t planned on trying to run.

---