Page 151 of Triple Pucked
Does he still deserve to burn with his mistress?
I surreptitiously glance around myself.
I’m sitting on the floor of a compact, neat kitchen. The cabinets and counters are oak with a Belfast sink and old-fashioned gas range beside a closed door across from me.
A solid back door stands on the opposite side of the room.
I lick my dry lips.
An oak table stands in the middle of the kitchen, which is covered in a range of newspapers. Underneath it is a large dog bed and a thin blanket.
Plyboards have been nailed over the window.
Is it to stop anyone from seeing what is happening inside? Keeping Heine prisoner? Or has this house been turned into a cage ahead of time for me?
The thought makes my heart race.
It’s claustrophobic in here.
Yet I can work with a kitchen.
There are a lot of things that can be used as weapons in a kitchen.
All I need now is to wait for the right moment to act.
My shoulders relax. I rest back against the wall. I wince at the sharp pain in my chest.
I hope that the rib doesn’t puncture my lung.
Pain is nothing.
Violence is nothing.
Working out how to handle Heine and Blythe without Shay here to guide me, however, is the hardest thing. It’s not enough to sacrifice myself.
I hated Blythe at college, and she hated me.
She was able to manipulate my brother because of his need to please. She can’t manipulate me in the same way but I also can’t understand the games that she plays.
I should try to convince Heine to let me go.
Yet the words are stuck in my throat.
I have no idea how he feels. What he’s thinking.
Shay would understand him. But I’m the wrong twin once again.
Watching the way that Heine rubs at his collar with a wince, I feel a twinge of reluctant sympathy.
Why does Heine have to remind me of Shay?
My brother was stuck with me in a place without light as well.
I need to know whether Heine deserves saving.
“Where’s Blythe?” I demand.
“Shh.” Heine hushes me in alarm, glancing over his shoulder at the closed door. “Mistress is busy. It’s my job to keep you quiet.”
