Page 36 of Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea

It’s unnerving the way he won’t look away. Surveying, scrutinizing each of my movements. Since the grape-sharing went so well, I take a chance and pick up my coffee. After my sip, I offer him one. It’s a dance, this back and forth we perform, that we continue to perform until we’ve eaten every last bite.

“I know,” he says suddenly. “Let’s go for a walk.” I avert my eyes to my bare legs, then back to Michael’s. “That’s no problem, I’ve got clothes for you to wear.”

Clothes for me to wear?Shit. He’d been planning this, planning it for a while. When I shift the tray off my lap to set it onto the billowy bedcover, Michael stands and walks over to the closet pulling out a pretty flowery sundress, yellow. Hehadbeen planning this. It’s exactly what I would have picked for myself, had I picked it.

I take the hanger from his hand and nod mythank you, then wait for him to leave. He doesn’t leave. I wait longer. His smile dips to a frown. “Come on, Liv. Get dressed.”

He’s given me no bra, no underwear. Which means when I pull the T-shirt up over my head, I’m completely naked in front of him. Of course he’s seen me naked before, but I need him to stop thinking of me as a sexual being. When he reaches a finger out to run a line over my breast, there’s a gleam in his eye. That kind of gleam I’d associate with a young boy who’d just gotten exactly what he wanted for Christmas and was waiting expectantly for it to be assembled.

Don’t shrink. Don’t shrink. Don’t shrink.

Gage must be out of his mind with worry.

Quickly, I drape the light summer fabric to skim down over my skin, covering my body up. Not that it stops him from staring; I swear the man has x-ray vision. The barrier of cotton fabric doesn’t seem to exist between the space from his eyes to my chest. I stand awkwardly with my hands hanging at my sides, then fold them over my chest. His eye twitches, which I take as him not liking the move, so I drop them again. Thus ends the eye twitch.

For a diversion, I pull my fingers through my hair. “Do you have a rubber band?” My voice moves his attention to my long locks, thankfully ending the creepy glare.

“I like it down.” It’s a command as much as a statement. Michael wants me to wear it down.

“Okay. Then I’m ready for our walk.” Get us moving. That’s a good idea.

Until he takes me in top to toe. “You need shoes. Wait here.” He turns to walk into the hallway. There’re upper and lower linen closets. I know he said to wait but I have to see what he’s doing. The bottom linen closet has a thick latch and thicker padlock securing the door. Pulling a keyring from his pocket, he fumbles through the keys until he finds the one he’s after and unlocks it. I can’t see everything in there, but I know that’s where he’s keeping my shoes.

At first, it’s like, why lock up my shoes? But it clicks. If he locks up my shoes, he thinks I won’t try to escape. What he doesn’t know, I’d gladly take mangled, bloody hamburger feet if it means I get to see Gage again.

Before he turns around, I slink back inside the room all the way to resume standing in the spot I’d been in before he left. Michael walks back in with a pair of tan leather thong sandals. Reminiscent of a shoe salesman, he kneels down in front of me to gently grab my heel. Unlike a shoe salesman, he runs his finger along my ankle before gliding the thong along the pad of my foot and between my toes. He repeats the action exactly with the other foot, except before setting it back down, he kisses the inside ankle.

When he straightens, he takes my hand, lacing our fingers. We walk through the house and outside. He padlocked my shoes but not the front door. Interesting. It’s a bright, sunshiny day. I smell the pollen and woods. What I don’t smell is ocean. I have no idea if we’re even still in Virginia.

There’s a narrow stone walkway leading to a dirt drive to the left and a path carved through the grass into the trees to the right. The SUV is parked in the drive, no doubt the keys on the keyring he keeps in his pocket. We veer toward the trees.

The sun dances along the edge of the woods, making the deep green tree leaves appear a lighter lime color, though the light drops off considerably once we leave the open grass. The temperature drops, too.

It’s beautiful. As we walk along the path, Michael is considerate enough to point out the poison ivy and even poison oak. Does poison oak grow in Virginia? He gently moves me away from each patch of shrubs.

Birds chirp. We see gray squirrels scurry from the branches above our heads. Then I hear a buzzing. It gets louder and louder until a huge bee hive, probably a wasp hive, appears in a tree just off the trail. We aren’t close enough to provoke them, but it’s good to locate the tree in question. To store in my memory bank for later. Neck deep in this clusterfuck of a kidnapping situation, knowing where to find the beehive might help save my life.

I find it hard to reconcile the two personalities of Michael. The man who shot the security guard in cold blood, kidnapped me and even trashed my house. Or the man who points out which berries are edible and keeps me away from poisonous plants. Every so often he lifts my hand, the one he’s holding, to his mouth to drop delicate kisses on it.

In his mind, we’re really a couple. In love. Lovers. We walk far enough in to reach the beach at a hidden lake. Not an overly large lake, but a lake with fishes. I see the little bubbles pop every now and then along the smooth surface of water. It’s peaceful here.

“Would you like to sit for a minute?” Michael asks.

I smile at him, nod and slip off my sandals, walking over to the edge of the shore to sit down. Only my toes dip in the water. Michael drops down behind me, pressing each bent knee against my waist, his legs to my hips. Then he shifts my hair over my shoulder so he can press kisses down my spine, from my neck to where the dress starts.

“Slide your arms out of the straps.” He orders. My body goes tight.

“I—um—I thought we were waiting for the…uh…the tranquilizer to fully wear off.” Panic has me stumbling over my words.

“We aren’t having sex here, Liv. The first time I have you won’t be on the hard ground.” He says this in a low, seductive voice. A voice that if he weren’t bat-shit crazy, would get him a whole lot of action. Just not from me. I have a man. “Now, slide your arms out of the straps.”

Not wanting to anger him, I do as directed, sliding each arm out of the strap. Michael folds the bodice of my dress down, exposing my breasts. Then inexplicably, he begins telling me about his childhood in Southern California, the whole time gently rubbing, twisting and flicking my nipples. That’s what he wanted, to play with my nipples. I realize it’s about control. Will I fight him or won’t I? He won’t trust me if I fight. I can compartmentalize. I have to. For my sanity. For my relationship with Gage.

“…then I realize my aunt is standing in my bedroom naked.” Oh, god.What?My mind had trailed off. His aunt? Naked?

“How old were you?” I ask.

“I told you, Liv.I was ten. Pay attention.” There’s an underlying annoyance to his tone, even though he chuckles at my faux pas.

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