Page 23 of Oh No, My Kidnapper Is Hot!

“Think it’ll need stitches, mate. Maybe five or six. I tell you, the gun violence in this country is getting out of hand,” Archie says. Okay, so… not an itty-bitty scratch. Stryker raises an eyebrow at me. Wow, would you look at that ceiling? Very smooth. White. Fits the sterile vibes perfectly. I wonder how much it costs to hire a decorator for “hospital room chic”.

“You want the numbing?” Archie asks. I don’t hear Stryker’s reply on account of my fascination with the light fixtures, but I assume he gives a nod. Only a moron would get “maybe five or six” stitches without any numbing.

I remember that Stryker is a man and look down.

Archie is going in with the needle and thread, no numbing to be found. I wish I could say that I’m surprised, but my life – specifically my job as a server – has mostlydesensitized me to the stupidity of man.Of coursehe’s getting stitched up without any pain relief. He’s aman.Pain is for the weak, or some other such nonsense. I roll my eyes.

“We have limited resources,” Stryker says. I look at him. “There’s no use wastin’ our resources on me when I can handle the pain. I’d rather have the numbing available when someone with a lower pain threshold needs it.”

My brows pull together. Why is he telling me this?

“Darlin’, I’ve seen that same face on you a hundred times when men at the diner are doing somethin’ particularly ’manly’ and idiotic. I’m tellin’ you that’s not what’s happenin’ here.”

Pause. Stop. Rewind.

“A hundred times?” I ask weakly.

“At least.”

“A hundred times?”I shriek. Archie flinches, and Stryker grunts when the needle goes into his skin a little too deep. Good. He deserves it.

“Millie, I told you it’s been two months,” he says, brows furrowed. I grunt.

He’s right. He did tell me that. What he didn’t tell me is that he’s been stalking me for those two months, watching me at work and generally being creepy.

“I didn’t know you were watching me that whole time!” I screech. Archie grumbles something about concentration. We ignore him.

“You were screwin’ up all of my jobs,” Stryker tells me. “You thought I wasn’t investigating that?”

Investigating me messing up his imaginary jobs? I stare, dumbfounded.

“Let me get this straight,” I start. “You stalked me for two months, and your justification for that is that I messed up a bunch of your–” I make air quotes, “– assassinations.”

Stryker’s eyes narrow.

“I don’t appreciate the sarcasm, Millie,” he says.

“I don’t appreciate being stalked and kidnapped by a madman!” I retort.

“I’m not a–”

“All done!” Archie interrupts. Stryker scowls at me for one searing moment before turning to check Archie’s work. I look at it too and have to stifle a laugh.

Archie has wrapped Stryker’s arm in a neon pink gauze and is in the final stages of securing it with an equally neon pink tape. The tape has cute tiny red and purple hearts on it. It’s the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen, and I hope he hates it.

“I want green,” Stryker says.

“Seems to me that green doesn’t want you, my friend,” Archie responds with a carefree grin. Stryker glowers at him. I lose the fight with my laughter, and a giggle bubbles free. He turns his glower to me, and Archie’s grin morphs into a beam.

“I made her laugh!” he exclaims. Stryker grunts.

“I made her laugh two days ago. You’re not special,” he grouches. He does not mention that I was laughing at his “job”.

I open my mouth to set the record straight, but he shoots up from the table, startling me into silence. He grabs my arm and begins to drag me out the way we came in.

“I’ll have Heidi set up your pool slots and make sure she knows not to charge you the internet fee,” he says to Archie, shoving me through the door ahead of him.

“It was nice meeting you, Millie! Come back any time!” Archie yells after us. His laughter follows us up the stairs and farther. I can hear the echo of it all the way out, only fading when Stryker slams the front door behind us.

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