Page 15 of Oh No, My Kidnapper Is Hot!

Oh, brother.

ChapterFive

“All I’m saying is that the miscommunication trope never did anyone any good. Think of how many problems would be solved if everyone justtalkedto each other. Marinette and Adrien could save themselves a whole lot of angst and drama if they sat down and had an open, honest conversation!”

We do watchMiraculous, obviously. You won’t catch me turning down aMiraculousmarathon. It’s my favorite show.

“They’re in disguise! Everyone knows the number one rule of undercover work is tostayundercover. Back me up here, Baz!” Heidi and I both look at the man, who gives a halfhearted grumble, eyes not moving from the television. Heidi turns back to me and says, “See!” I roll my eyes.

“Idon’tsee how that–”

“Stop.”

I do, shocked to hear the low voice coming from the man next to me. He can talk – and he’s British!

“You’re British!” I exclaim. He grunts, much like he has for the last several hours. I didn’t know hecouldspeak, frankly, and I was considering asking Heidi to teach me some sign language so we could communicate. Turns out all I needed to do was annoy him into speech. I file that information into my “important bits” folder. Know thy enemy, or whatever.

“Of course he’s British,” Heidi says, “just look at him!”

I do.

He looks… big. Are British men big? I didn’t think that was a defining characteristic. I suppose he is fairly pale, which the English are known for. Still, I’m not sure how I would’ve guessed his nationality based on his looks, grunts, and grumbles alone. Not that I’m going to mention that to Heidi. The girl is nuts.

“Can you say something else?” I ask Baz. Because, hello, an accent! Sure, the guy is part of the crazy brigade, but if I’m stuck here, I might as well enjoy the amenities.

“No,” he says, and if I pout a little, so what? Anyone would.

“Oh, come on, Bazzy! Give us a little something?” Heidi hits him with a killer set of puppy dog eyes. No way he’s going to be able to resist those suckers. If she pointed that face my way, I’d fold in two seconds flat.

Baz takes one look at it and grumbles a stern “Heidi.”

Face turning red, she tucks the puppies away and gives me an apologetic shrug before turning back to the TV. I frown. At least she tried… I guess.

I reluctantly follow her example, and we continue watching two teen heroes fight villains and miss out on love. Honestly, it would be a perfect day if it weren’t for the rub of the handcuff reminding me that these are not my friends, and I am not in a safe place.

“Stryker told me you’re his assistant,” I mention to Heidi a couple of episodes later. She only nods, fully engrossed in the show. “He also told me he’s an assassin.” That garners more attention. Heidi and Baz turn to me, surprise lining their faces.

“He told you that?” Heidi squeaks. I nod.

“He did, and I have to say, I don’t understand what you guys are doing. He clearly needs help, and instead of getting it for him, you’re encouraging his delusions.” I lift my arm and let the chain emphasize my point. They share alook.

“Millie,” Heidi starts, “you don’t believe him?”

Uh, of course not?

“Is this a joke?” I ask, glancing at Baz. His eyes are locked on me, his brows drawn together. The attention is a little more intense than is comfortable, so I look back at Heidi. She appears distressed.

“It’s not a joke, hun. Heisan assassin. I’m surprised he told you so soon.” She’s wringing her hands and sending worried glances to Baz, who doesn’t notice. Her anxious energy is getting to me.

“Heidi, doyouneed help? Have you been Stockholmed? I don’t know what he’s told you, but this is Kentucky. Kentucky doesn’t have assassins. He’s just a guy in desperate need of a psych consult.”

“Millie, seriously,” she says, “I don’t want to freak you out, but Strykerdoeskill people, and he gets paid a lot of money to do it. I wish he hadn’t told you yet, but now that you know, you’re going to have to come to terms with it. You’re one of us, so you’re completely safe, but you need to understand the risks involved in who we are.”

I’m one of them? What?

“What does that mean, ’one of you’?” I ask.

“What do you mean, ’what does that mean’?” Heidi asks in return, matching my confusion with her own.

---