Page 46 of Snowed In with Three Mountain Men

So far, everything is going exactly as we planned it—I wandered into the forest, apparently alone, while the guys kept watch. The man who they had kidnapped brought the information of our location back to James and his men, and they came out there to make use of it. Just as they expected, there I was, strolling around by myself, no protection, nothing.

I can’t say it was easy, letting myself get taken by them. The feel of their hands on me, their urgent hissing in my ear to keep my fucking voice down and not to make a scene, it went against every fiber of my being not to kick back against it. Even as they carried me to the car and bundled me in the back seat, I had to fight the urge to slam my feet into the window and knock it loose, roll out onto the road rather than face whatever was waiting for me on the other side.

But they need to think they have me. James needs to think he has won. Even the thought of it now is enough to set my teeth on edge, but sometimes you have to sacrifice something small to win the big prize.

They didn’t bother to check me for a tracker. They made sure I didn’t have a phone, and that was about it, but they left the microphone and the small tracker in my boot untouched. I guess it’s what James ordered—that nobody else should lay a hand on me until he gets a chance to take his revenge.

How long is he going to make me wait? His men brought me to some—well, I didn’t get a look at it as I was being dragged inside, thanks to the rough burlap sack shoved over my head, but it smells like some old logging cabin, based on the scent of sawdust in the air. My hands are bound behind my back to a rickety old chair, the sharp edge pressing against my wrist. I know I should be terrified right now, but I soothe myself with the reminder that the guys are there for me. They’re not going to let anything happen to me.

James has walked right into our trap. All we need to do is keep our heads, and we’re going to bring him down for good.

“Hey!” I call out again. I need to make it sound convincing—need to make it look as though I’m truly scared for my life, and I’ll do anything to get out of here. Even if the truth is that I know the guys are listening to me, via the microphone stashed beneath my shirt, and that they’re likely already on the way here to find me, thanks to the tracker in my shoe.

As long as I can hold out till they get here.

I push the thought away sharply. I’m not going to let that asshole get under my skin like that. I abandoned him at the altar, on theday of our wedding—if that hasn’t made it damn clear to him that I’m not the person he thought I was, then I don’t know what will.

All at once, a door swings open before me with a loud creak. I lift my head, and there he is, standing, silhouetted against a backdrop of blinding light pouring in from outside.

James.

My heart drops in my chest, a familiar panic rushing through me at the sight of him. This is…this is a whole fucking lot to wrap my head around. It’s been so long since I’ve seen him, I thought…God, I don’t know what I thought. I felt like I should be over the terror he sent coursing through me by now, but the shock of his presence makes the blood rush from my face.

He makes his way toward me slowly, looking me up and down, and I do my best to meet his gaze, not letting him see how frightened I am right now.

The way he looks at me—shit, it’s nothing like before. I thought I was frightened of him before all of this, but now…now, it’s different. He’s glowering at me as though he wants to tear me to pieces right here. Not the comfortably smug expression he used to have when he looked at me—that certainty in his eyes that I wasn’t going anywhere, that I wouldn’t dare stand against him. No, now he knows there’s a chance I’ll fight back.

And he’s going to do everything he can to crush that out of me.

I tense as he draws closer, squirming my hands beneath the bindings. He doesn’t say a word, just standing there before me—but then he crouches down in front of me and reaches out to tilt my chin up toward his face.

“Did you miss me, Charli?”

“Don’t touch me,” I hiss back at him, but my voice lacks conviction.

He chuckles, shaking his head. “That’s not exactly the welcome I was expecting, as your fiancé,” he continues, tightening his grip on my chin, giving me no choice but to look into his eyes.

“We’re not engaged,” I snap back. “I don’t want anything to do with you, James. Just let me go, move on with your life. I’m done.”

He laughs again. “I don’t think you get it,” he continues, voice almost eerily calm. “You don’t get to make that call. You never did. I decide when we’re over. And if you thought that running away from our wedding was going to get you out…”

He squeezes my chin tighter. I can’t even catch my breath as I stare back at him, doing my best not to let his gaze frighten me.

“Then you’re fucking wrong.”

He straightens up again. My heart is pounding, head spinning, but I know I need to keep him talking—I need to make sure he says something to incriminate himself. I need to make him come clean. Whatever I record here today, it needs to be airtight, so when I hand it over to someone else, they can take him down, once and for all.

“You haven’t taken enough from me?” I demand. “You abused me, James. You?—”

“Abused you?” he snarls, rounding on me once more, eyes flashing with fury. “I gave you everything you could have ever wanted. I gave you status, I gave you a place to live, I gave you?—”

“And you took everything from me in the process!” I cut him off. “I—I had to give up everything to become the kind of person you wanted me to be. Don’t you get it? Don’t you see?”

He stares down at me, and it’s almost as though he’s looking right through me. Like he truly doesn’t understand what I mean. Whatever hope I might have had that he could become a better person, it vanishes in that instant.

“I see an ungrateful bitch sitting in front of me right now,” he replies. “An ungrateful bitch who never knew what she had. I gave you everything, and you fucking humiliated me—you have no idea what you did to me. You havenoidea how you hurt me.”

“Hurt you, or hurt your ego?” I shoot back. “You never cared about me, James. If you did, you would never have lifted a hand to me. You would never have kept me locked up in that apartment. You wouldn’t have cut me off from my friends and my job, you wouldn’t have?—”

---