Page 34 of Ruthless Beast

“Calm down,” he growls at me before he closes the door and locks it.

“Argh!” I scream out loud before I sink back onto the bed, defeated.

Food! I have to eat as I’m growing faint, so I head for the table to inspect the sandwich. Steak! Oh, thank God! I don’t care if the meat is laced with poison or barbiturates at this point. I’m sure the muscle bound man would have hurt me already if he wanted to, and I’m bloody starving, so I take a big bite. It’s delicious.

There isn’t much I can do at this point, so after I devour the sandwich, I lay down on the bed. I could use a shower. I am worried, though, that someone may come into the room while I’m in the bathroom. I could barricade the door while I’m in there.

I look around for something with which to jam the door. The chair next to the table will do the trick, so I carry it to the bathroom and shove it under the door handle. The clothes are my size. Curious. It’s as if my kidnapper knows me well enough to dress me perfectly.

Has he been watching me? The thought of it sends a fresh batch of chills down my spine. I guess I was a sitting duck at the gallery with its large wrap-around windows. I should have paid more attention to my surroundings, but I was too preoccupied with David’s tragedy. Now I’m paying the price.

With the bathroom door secured, I decide to have a long soak in the tub rather than a shower. My body aches, and warm water will surely help with that. I don’t know what the brute did to me when he bundled me into his car, but I feel like I was pretzelled into a small space. I guess that’s what you get when you’re in the hands of the enemy. I don’t understand why he didn’t just kill me. Why prolong my agony?

My arm hurts where the needle went in. I rub gently over the spot where a bit of blood has crusted over. The bathroom cabinet is stocked with basic items. Toothpaste—my host clearly prefers victims with minty fresh breath while he kicks the snot out of them—toilet paper, a toothbrush, an assortment of feminine hygiene products, a hairbrush, and a few other essentials. Was this all bought for me?

I pull a bottle of body wash and a washcloth from the cabinet and place them on the edge of the tub while I run the water. None of this makes sense to me.

I slip into the water once the tub is full. The warmth is wonderful for my aching body. I close my eyes, the rising steam enveloping me. Am I weak because I’m so close to tears? I’ve always considered myself a capable, feisty woman, but this situation has me feeling ridiculously vulnerable. The worst of it all is that I’m all alone now without David. I’d hate to think that my inner strength was a consequence of knowing that my brother always had my back.

Now that he’s gone, I’m truly alone. So much for inner strength and resilience.

You can’t think like that, Emily. You are strong and perfectly capable of getting through this.

Of course I am. If growing up without parents has taught me anything, it’s that I can keep going even when everything around me is telling me that I cannot. I will get through this. I don’t care what I have to do to placate this enemy. David’s death won’t have been in vain. I refuse to lay down and die. This is bullshit!

I dry myself off with a newfound determination to face my enemy. As I pick up the clean clothes, a pair of lacy panties falls to the floor.

“You’ve got to be shitting me!”

How dare he? Now he’s buying me underwear! In my size, to boot! Who does this pervert think he is? I’m going to shove this skimpy piece of material right down his mobster throat.

I brush my teeth and brush my hair. I refuse to look like a victim when he shows his face.

“Okay, asshole. Let’s dance.”

* * *

I check my watch for the hundredth time. It’s noon. So, what’s the plan, I wonder. Am I to rot away in my lonely tower like Repunzel? Is this man ever going to appear so I can confront him? This is ridiculous. I should damn well…

Voices. I hear voices outside the door. I leap off the bed and take on a bulldog-like stance to show that I’m not afraid. Actually, I’m crapping myself, but that’s my secret and will remain so.

“Who’s out there?” I yell out as loudly and calmly as I can.

The voices stop.

“I said, Who's out there? You can’t keep me here forever. I demand to know what’s going on!”

Oh, come on. Just open the blasted door so I can see who I’m dealing with! It’s quiet now, and it’s driving me scatty. I listen intently from my perceived stronghold, intent on sniffing out the enemy’s plan. Any moment now, the door will open, and I’ll be face to face with the man who’ll rue the day he jabbed me in the arm.

The voices are back. I brace myself as I hear the sound of the key turning in the lock.

Okay, here we go. It’s go time. You’ve got this, Emily. Don't back down!

The door opens slowly.

What the…

I stare at the man standing in the doorway. I can’t believe it! How is this possible? How did he find me? Did Dannie call him? How did he know where to start looking? This is crazy!

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