Page 59 of Oh No, My Kidnapper Is Hot!

I scrunch my nose.

“They’re going just fine. I’ve been lulling him into afalse sense of security,” I say.

He raises an eyebrow.

“Now he won’t be as on guard for when I make a final,realbreak for it with your help.” That almost sounded believable. Nice.

“Do you have a plan for this final, ’real’ break for it?” he asks. I grimace. “Uh-huh. I suppose you expectmeto come up with the plan?”

My heart soars.

“You’ll help?”

“Of course,” he says. “I do love a bit of chaos at the compound.” He grins.

“Thank you!” I shoot toward him over our teacups and hug him tight. He grunts, but returns the hug, wrapping his arms around me.

“You know,” he says quietly, “it’s been an awful long time since somebody hugged me.”

My soaring heart cracks in two.

“You can have as many hugs as you’d like from me,” I reply. “Even after I’m gone. Just find me.” I squeeze him extra tight, ignoring the discomfort of stretching across the table and the way it digs into my legs . After several minutes, he pulls back, so I do too. He stops me when our faces are a foot apart, holding my hands in his.

“Thank you, Millie. You’ll never know how precious that was to me.” His face is open – unguarded. I want to put him in my pocket and take him with me.

“You could come with me, you know, if you’re not happy here.”

His eyes spark with something raw before he smiles, breaking the moment.

“And miss out on Rosie’s famous chocolate cakes? Never!” He sits back in his seat, letting go of my hands. I sit back too.

“If you change your mind, you’ll always have a place with me,” I tell him. “I mean that.”

He gives me a soft, brief smile before slipping back into his default mode of trickery and shenanigans.

“Time to plan an ultimate escape!”

Chapter Twenty

Archie’s a genius. I leave his house with Stryker that evening, barely able to conceal my excitement. He thought of everything: maps, contingency plans, and even a wired earpiece and a tiny microphone for communication later tonight. I feel like a spy about to embark on a secret mission. In a way, I suppose I am. How cool!

“You had a good day?” Stryker asks as we cross the gravel road to get to my cabin. I nod enthusiastically.

“I hadthe bestday!” I tell him, practically skipping up the porch steps. He grunts in response. I pull open the door and head straight for the kitchen.

“Let me cook tonight,” I tell him, wanting to burn off some excess energy. He pushes me out.

“No.”

I shrug. Fine. Whatever. If he wants to cook, then he can cook. I’ll get my energy out elsewhere.

I go to the living room instead, find the remote, and hand it to Stryker so he can put in the child lock password and turn on some upbeat music for me.

While he cooks, I twirl. Jump. Give a shimmy or two. I let the giddy feeling of near-freedom overtake me and justbefor the first time in months – maybe even years.

I dance forever, the scent of garlic in the air. I can barely hear the clang of pots over the music. I’m having fun, and I don’t even mind that Stryker is around to witness it.

Five songs later, my upbeat music morphs to somethingmuch slower. I turn toward the kitchen to ask for my jams back and squeak when I find Stryker right behind me.

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