Page 123 of Hot for Hostage

Oh. Right. That wasn’t exactly normal.

“Yeah, okay. I can see where that might not be very reassuring.” I racked my brain for something else. “But I would bring you cupcakes? Homemade ones.”

Shaking his head, he returned his focus to his poor excuse for sweeping. My eye twitched as I watched him. None of the broken glass had made it into the dustpan yet. He was just pushing it around while he tried to keep his balance.

Unable to help myself, I offered a little advice. “I’m sorry, and I promise I’m not criticizing your technique, but it really would be easier if you sweep everything in one direction into a pile. Then all you need to do is transfer the pile to the dustpan.”

Instead of being grateful, Fessy went still as a statue—until his nostrils flared as if I’d just called his mother a harlot.

Sensingdanger ahead, I shut my mouth.

Fessy’s shoulders rose and fell with a deep breath, then he resumed sweeping as if I hadn’t said anything.

He also ignored my advice about sweeping into a pile.

Shards of glass skittered across the floor with each lazy sweep of his broom—which only seemed to annoy Fessy more. He growled before bending awkwardly and sweeping with his hand.

That was a horrible idea.

He hissed sharply, and I sucked in a breath as blood dripped from his hand. “Are you okay?”

Fessy stood, shaking his hand. “It’s just a cut.”

My head spun at the sight of blood, and I fought down a wave of nausea. “This room is a hotbed for infections. I’d get that washed and dressed as soon as you can. Wouldn’t want to lose your finger over a broken lamp?—”

He threw the broom down, making me flinch. “Do you ever shut up?”

I flexed my wrists against the tight bindings before muttering, “I’m just trying to help.”

He looked between his bleeding hand and the shattered glass. “You want to help? Then get off your ass and clean this up yourself.”

I watched in growing disbelief as Fessy grabbed a large shard of glass off the floor before hobbling over to me. He used the jagged piece to cut through each of my bindings—and just like that, I wasfree.

I was still processing it when Fessy held the pointy piece of glass up to my face. “But don’t get any ideas. Reed or no Reed, I’ll stab you if you even think of trying anything.”

I swallowed and rubbed my newly freed wrists. “Understood.”

The first thing I did after getting to my feet was hold my ruined shirt together to cover all the cleavage on display—not that it helped much—before picking up the broom.

I swept carefully at the slowest pace I thought I could get away with, giving myself time to brainstorm what to do. Using another shard of glass to stab Fessy was out of the question—I didn’t have the stomach for that. Plus, he’d already suffered enough from getting shot.

But thanks to the limp slowing him down, there was a chance I could beat him to the door and escape.

Or it’d be eveneasierif he left me alone in here.

I glanced at Fessy, who was pressing his bloody hand against the bandage on his thigh.

I jumped on the opening. “You really should get that cut cleaned. Infections aren’t something to take lightly.”

“Whatever,” he mumbled. But a second later, he looked at the door and made a face. “Just sweep all this up by the time I get back. And don’t get cut on that glass.”

“You got it,” I assured him, even though I had no intention of following his orders.

Keeping the glass shard pointed my way, he hobbled out the door on one crutch.

The moment the door swung shut behind him, I ran up and grabbed the handle—right as Fessy clicked a lock into place from the other side.

I gasped and jiggled the doorknob, but it didn’t budge.

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