Page 32 of Taking

Fireplace. Two cabinets. A small kitchen table. A book on the end table by a threadbare couch. A pillow and two blankets revealed where he slept—he’d shoved me into a smaller room.

Bathroom.

I stumbled on my own to the toilet, pulled up my shirt, and sank down on the seat, letting out a sigh, not having a single fuck to give over the fact he watched. Eyes closed, I relaxed and let my body do its thing.

Once I finished and wiped with the roll of toilet paper hanging on the wall beside me, I stood, my shirt falling midthigh to cover my nakedness. Only then did I lift my focus off the combat boots in front of me.

Black jeans covered his long legs and powerful thighs—and the type of bulge a woman in my situation shouldn’t find herself drooling over. His tight black shirt encased prominent pectorals, protruding shoulder and bicep muscles, and it covered his thick forearms, ending at his wrists.

But the mask…

I gulped, turning my focus to the small shower stall on my left. “C-Can I shower?” I asked, hating that my voice betrayed my quaking insides.

“No.” He pointed toward the small living area.

I slipped past him without looking at his masked face, my gaze latching on the window filled with white. The door beside it didn’t have a deadbolt or chain. A simple lock…

My pulse stumbled then sped as I recognized the fact I had an opportunity.

A battery-operated lamp sat on the small table I approached—and my captor breathed on my neck.

I slowed, sucking oxygen into my lungs.

You can do this. Do it!

I grabbed the lamp and swung around.

My kidnapper’s head was tilted down like he’d been checking out my ass—and I clobbered him in the temple. He stumbled, but I didn’t hang around to see if he fell. Heart racing, I took off for the door.

“Fuck!” he groaned, but no crashing sound announced that I’d hit him hard enough to drop him to his knees.

My shaking fingers flicked the lock, and I pulled the door inward.

Frigid air blasted my face, stole my breath.

“Run,” he whispered close to my ear—and I sprinted into the blinding white.

12

Gideon

The ballsy bitch hit me hard enough to knock my mask askew, and my goddamn ear rang, but I didn’t reach out to grab her. Rage rose, stirring my blood, the same that wet my fingertips when I touched them to my temple before righting my mask.

She scampered toward the door like she thought she could escape me. Escape the cabin deep in the wilderness, far from civilization—and in the middle of a snowstorm.

Stupid girl.

Guess she hadn’t smartened up while I’d been away.

Three quiet strides put me inches from her ass as she wrenched the door open, but I held my fists at my sides rather than taking her down like I lusted to do.

“Run,” I whispered harshly, inches from her ear.

Her shriek caused satisfaction to swell inside me, chubbed my dick, and I grinned like a maniac as she ran out into the storm.

Bare fucking feet. Nothing but a T-shirt covering her thin body.

She wouldn’t get far, but I would give her a good enough head start to fill me with an even greater sense of satisfaction when I hunted down my prey. Allowing her feel hope. Catching the little princess. Listening to her pleading to let her go. She’d attempt to bribe me, something she’d been too weak to do up to that point.

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