Page 76 of Scars He Gave Me (Bratva Crime Syndicate 2)

* * *

Hope is alive. Later, when Antoni comes back with dinner, he has a copy ofFifty Shades of Greyand one of those cute little bookmarks with a butterfly perched on a heart flower in a bag from McCarty’s Books.

I practically fall all over myself to thank him. “Thank you so much.”

He nods and his skin darkens again. “If you finish that one and need another one … just … I mean, I can …” His hands twitch at his side and he hasn’t lifted his chin from where it rests against his chest.

“Thank you, Antoni.” I remember reading somewhere that people respond better when you use their name a lot. It seemed like pop psych mumbo jumbo at the time, but hey, I’m game to try anything at this point.

If he wasn’t part of the group holding me hostage, I would feel worse about using his apparent crush against him. As it stands, though, I don’t have many tools at my disposal, and prisoners can’t be choosers. Isn’t that how the saying goes?

“Have you read it?” I hold up the book and arch a suggestive eyebrow.

Without ever looking up, he shakes his head.

“I heard it’s spicy,” I murmur. I’ve never spoken so sweetly or bitten my lip so much.

Now, he looks up. “I saw the movie.”

He stares, then lets his gaze roam as if he’s seeing me for the first time, and I smile. If I pull this off, I should get an Oscar. “Well, maybe when I finish the book, if I’m still here, we can compare notes.” There’s so much blood in his cheeks I doubt there’s any left in his brain.

“Sure.” His dark hair is gelled, and he’s built okay—like a guy who might lift weights but not with regularity—but obviously he doesn’t have a lot of experience with women, or I wouldn’t be able to lure him so blatantly and get away with it. He shoves his hands into his pockets and uses his head to motion toward the door. “I should go.”

“Okay. I have some reading to do anyway.” I hold up the book, wave it toward him. “Can’t wait to chat.”

After he leaves, I pretend to read because if I was the guys holding me hostage, I would probably have a camera hidden somewhere in the room to make sure my hostage isn’t using the toothbrush to make a shiv—okay, I might have watched a few too many prison movies. Anyway, just in case, I can’t take the chance of Antoni discovering I’m a big fat liar by seeing me not reading.

By dinnertime, I’ve managed to “fall asleep” with the open book across my chest. When he walks in the door, I lift my head and put it back down on the pillow with a groan.

“Are you okay?” His voice is soft and deep, edged with concern.

I move like I’m grievously injured. “Yeah … just a headache.” In a move of improv genius, I rub my temples because I need to sell this. “Do you think you could maybe … oh, I hate to ask.”

“I could get you some aspirin.” He sets the tray down and walks to the door. “I’ll be right back.”

And that’s the moment I know I’ve got him for real. Of course, I’m not going to take the aspirin. For all I know they could be some sort of street drug that’ll make me taste all the colors of the rainbow. But the fact that he went to get them means he cares. And if nothing else, maybe he’ll keep my captors from hurting me.

But every minute he’s gone, my confidence fades. Especially when the Weather Channel has run through three cycles of repeated information, and he still hasn’t returned. By the time he opens the door, my head is throbbing for real.

“Sorry it took so long.” He hands me the pills, and I set them on the table. Something about him has changed. It’s subtle. Deeper frown. Darker eyes. Slight slump to his shoulders. But only someone who’s been paying attention would notice.

He sighs and glances at me, then away.

“You okay?” I ask him.

He doesn’t move or speak or blink. If I can get him to open up, we can establish a rapport.

“Antoni, you can talk to me.”

Nothing.

“I mean, honestly, it’s lonely in here. The only bright spots in my day are when you come in. Talking to you … maybe I can help.”

“I don’t know. I shouldn’t …”

I clamp my lips together to resist the sigh trying to sneak out. “Come on. We’re friends, right?”

He nods and sits beside me on the bed. Close. With one hand braced on the bed behind me so that his arm touches my shoulder.

---