Page 64 of The White Picket Fence

“You did that...for me?”

“I would doanythingfor you.”

“Then let Kayla go. If you do, I’ll stay with you. No arguments.”

He narrowed his eyes. “You’ll stay with me regardless. No arguments.”

She willed her hands not to shake. It had been worth a try, she supposed, but she’d known it wouldn’t work. “I know. But if you really want to make me happy, please let her go. You can blindfold her so that she can’t see where we are, but she’s just a child, Kevin. Please, let her go.”

“You’ll be happy, because you’re with me.” His gaze darkened. “Now make me happy by shutting up and cooking me a meal. I’m starving.”

“Yes...sir.” Trying not to cry, she turned to the sink, looking out the window over it. Looking for any sign that help was coming.

But no one was coming.

She truly was on her own.

Then I’ll find another way. I’ll get us both out, me and Kayla. I didn’t survive that insane stalker last year only to die at the hands of another insane stalker.

But even as she thought the words, she knew that getting even one of them out would be a near-impossible challenge. Getting them both out?

Kayla first.

Unless... What if she could drug Kevin? Make him sleep? Then she and Kayla could escape. What in the kitchen could she use?

“Stop staring out the window,” Kevin snapped. “Look at me. Or cook a meal.”

She looked over her shoulder, praying she didn’t appear as terrified as she really was. Because unless Kevin had stocked his shelves with sleeping pills, the best she could do was to make him a cup of warm milk.

That wasn’t going to help her get away.

So now? She’d bide her time. “How about a frittata?” she asked.

Drugged or not, he’d have to sleep sometime. She’d have to wait for nightfall. And then she’d take his keys, unlock the doors, and get the hell out of there.

“With bacon?” Kevin asked.

She feigned indignation. “Of course with bacon. What kind of cook do you think I am?”

“Hopefully a good one,” he said sharply.

She was a good cook. An expert with spices and seasonings. She knew what spices complemented others. Which should be used sparingly, lest they overwhelm the meal.

Or the chef.

Her breath caught. Most hot peppers made her eyes water when she chopped them. And pepper spray was made from peppers, right?

She couldn’t make pepper spray, but she might be able to fudge a suitable substitute.

I can do this. I can get us out of here.

“You won’t be disappointed.” Opening the fridge, she began to remove the ingredients she’d need. Milk, eggs, spinach, red pepper.

She nearly shouted in relief when she saw the bag of jalapeños. She and Kayla might just have a chance. “If I can’t have a knife, you’re going to have to do the chopping. I’m adding spinach and red peppers. Maybe a little jalapeño. Just for flavor.”

And for your eyes, asshole.

He was quiet for a moment. “I’ll give you a knife and supervise you.”

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