Page 48 of Oh No, My Kidnapper Is Hot!

Well. He didn’t have to bring logic into this, did he? Rude.

“I could have contraband!” I tell him. He scoffs. “I could!” What does he know? I could be drowning in contraband. He shakes his head, ducking under a treebranch. I duck after him, annoyed.

“We can watchMiraculoustonight when we get back from our swim,” he says. The weight in my gut grows heavier.

“I don’t have a swimsuit!” I protest, not entirely sure it’s true. Heidi got mea lotof clothes. It would take a decade to sift through them all. There might be a swimsuit in there.

“Heidi bought you five,” he replies. Alright. I guess he already knows.

“How would you know that?”

“I told her to.”

I nearly trip over a protruding tree root.

“You told her to?!” I wheeze.

“Yeah, when I told her to get the other stuff.”

I open my mouth to ask more but quickly decide that I don’t want to know. So Stryker dictated my entire wardrobe. That’s fine. I will just tuck that away in a pretty little box and put it on a sky-high stack of equally pretty boxes located on Denial Island. Absolutely no biggie at all.

I spend the rest of the hike definitely not freaking out about my room full of Stryker-sponsored clothing. There’s not even anything to freak out about, actually, because it does not exist. My new clothes spawned into existence, as far as I’m concerned. From nothing they came, and to nothing they will go once this nightmare is over.

The dogs bark as we approach their home – Stryker’s home. It’s weird entering it, knowing it belongs to him. The moody decor fits him, I have to admit. It’s dark and imposing. Where my cabin is decorated in greens and pinks, his is a study of dark wood and deep, rich blues. I refuse to think of it as cozy. Stryker is not a cozy man, and his house is absolutely not homey and comforting in the slightest. The huge, worn-in couch definitely doesn’t looklike a nice place to curl up with a book or to cuddle under one of his big, fluffy throw blankets. I could never imagine myself sitting on one of the cushioned kitchen stools relaxing while Stryker cooks.

Of course not. That would be crazy, and one thing I will not be doing is joining the rest of the compound in their madness. No, thank you. I am good.

My contemplation of how not cozy Stryker’s house is doesn’t last long, and soon we’re back in the green cabin searching for swimsuits.

“Do you have a lighter, by chance?” I ask. One of his thick, stupidly perfect brows rise. “I thought I could light myself on fire to save me from this disaster.”

“You can be a bit of a drama queen, you know that?”

I’mthe drama queen?

“You threw a tantrum and kidnapped a woman in broad daylight. I don’t think you get to talk about who’s a drama queen.” I sass, scrunching my nose.

“Wasn’t throwin’ a tantrum, darlin’. Was solvin’ a problem.”

Uh-huh. I shoot a skeptical look at the back of his head while he searches through the dresser.

“I find it hard to believe a professional like you was having that much trouble because of little ol’ me.” I mean, really, what could I have done that was so bad?

“Remember Robert Nickelson and the gas station explosion?” he retorts. I roll my eyes.

“Okay, so I got in the wayonetime. That doesn’t justify you snatching me off the street like a bad cartoon villain.” I mean, really.

“Before Robert Nickelson, there was the time you hailed a cab for Candy Flintlockoneblock before I could get her. Then there was the time you made Jack Griffon laugh so hard he spilled his drink – a drink that was supposedto induce a heart attack. I could go on. You spoiled four jobs before I started watchin’ you and another dozen after. I’m surprised you didn’t ever get hurt, the way you kept steppin’ into danger. You’re lucky you’re here now, where I can keep you safe.” He ends with a self-satisfied nod.

“The only person I’ve ever been in danger from is you!” I exclaim. He shakes his head.

“The only person who’s ever been keeping yousafeis me,” he replies.

“Don’t gaslight me!”

“It’s not gaslightin’ if it’s the simple truth.”

My eye twitches. I really,reallyshould have shot him somewhere better – like the empty space where a normal person might have a heart.

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