Page 31 of Oh, Hell No

“You’ll get to make sure he pays literally and physically,” Bane assured me.

“Yeah,” I agreed.

“I’ll send word when we have him.”

“Thanks,” I replied.

I stood there, staring at the door that led to the basement for several minutes after the call ended. I wanted to believe Winslet Gerard was as fucking innocent and good as she appeared. That sweet smile, musical laugh, each perfect feature—I wanted themto be as genuine as the texts I had read, the things she’d said, the life she seemed to live. I took a heavy breath, and my chest rose and fell. I fucking wanted her to be that woman I had met in the Hobby Lobby. Nervous, cute, rambling on about hot dogs and pizza pretzels, all that unpretentious natural beauty that had appeared to be more than skin deep.

But I couldn’t be sure, and even if she was—even if I knew without a shadow of a doubt that she was that woman who had made me momentarily forget what I was there for—it changed nothing. There was no chance at anything more for us. When this was over, she’d walk out of my life. I wouldn’t have another night of listening to her talk, watching her eat chocolate cake, being distracted by the way her lips curled and eyes danced. There would be no more watching her sleep. Seeing the peaceful look on her face that mesmerized me.

I didn’t do relationships. Not even for someone who might possibly be the perfect female. And definitely not the sister of a man who had robbed me and made me look like a fool.

It was probably for the best she was down there again. Out of sight. Not confusing me. Getting under my skin. Making me get off track. There was one goal here, and I had to focus on it.

Fourteen

Winslet

Moving on from the knowledge that Oz, at some point since I’d been living upstairs, had emptied my pee bucket had been difficult. I mean, I was thankful I wouldn’t have to smell it because, well, it would have been sitting there awhile and the scent would have been unpleasant. But I was struggling with Oz…seeing my pee. Which was stupid to even care since the man had almost killed me and I’d locked myself down here for my protection. From him.

I was tired. My eyes were heavy, but every time I dozed off, my stomach would grumble and I’d have hunger pains, my back would start to ache, or my butt would be asleep and I’d need to shift my position to get some relief. If only I could have locked myself in that bedroom. I didn’t know what time it was, but it felt like I’d been down here forever. I was positive it was nighttime. Possibly midnight by now.

Another day without food and water. For hours, I’d mourned the coffee I’d never gotten. Now, I would settle for water. It didn’t even need to be cold. Heck, those nasty kombucha drinks that Meg—the other second-grade teacher who was across the hallway from me at school—loved so much was even sounding appealing right now.

I started going through a list of things I did not like the taste of and ranked them on how thirsty I was and if I’d drink one or not.

The only one I could be sure I would pass on was apple cider vinegar. That crap made me want to vomit. I’d just dehydrate. Yuck, and the smell of my pee from drinking it would be horrid.

Footsteps on the stairs stopped my odd train of thought, and I reached for the key lying beside me to grip it in my hand like a weapon. I’d worried more than once today that there might be a second key to this place and Oz could have called whoever owned it to get the key from them. Then what? He’d come in here. Finish the job and leave my dead, lifeless body here to rot. Well, probably not the last part. He would need to dispose of me.

“Open up, Winslet. Perry has been found.”

I held my breath as I stood up, staring in the darkness toward the sound of his voice. They’d gotten him? Oh God. What did that mean?

“Is…is he alive?” I asked, sending up silent prayers that they hadn’t killed him.

“Yes, he’s alive.”

I gasped in relief. Pressing a hand to my chest. They hadn’t killed him. Maybe they wouldn’t, but the Feds might lock him up. I would worry about that later. One thing at a time.

“Come on,” he repeated.

I started to walk slowly so as not to run into anything or trip, then stopped. Wait. What if this was a trap? That he was lying to get me out of here?

“Are you going to kill me?” I asked, my voice shaky, givingaway my fear.

He let out a heavy sigh. “No. I was never going to kill you.”

“Um, you almost did. If your phone hadn’t rung, I’d be six feet under somewhere on this massive piece of land.”

“That’s a bit dramatic. You hadn’t even started to fight for oxygen or turn blue yet. I was furious with you, yes, but I was just trying to scare the answer out of you.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Have you choked someone to death before? You seem to know the stages of it.” That idea didn’t sit well with me. I was tempted to go back to my spot on the floor.

Silence.

Holy crap. Had he?

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