Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 80139 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 401(@200wpm)___ 321(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80139 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 401(@200wpm)___ 321(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Present Day
I’m still sitting in this damned cell on this damned cot. My good-looking captor was apparently called away.
How could I have been so cavalier with him?
I need to get a grip. I of all people should know how serious the situation is. This man is my captor, not a freaking guy I met on Hinge.
“Hey,” a voice says.
I look up. It’s a different guy, this one dressed in jeans and a plain white T-shirt.
“What?” I say abruptly.
“Got your food.” He throws a brown paper bag through the bars. “Go ahead. Eat.”
I gulp. “I’m not hungry.”
“I didn’t ask if you were hungry,” he says. “I have my orders. Now eat.”
I rise and grab the bag off the concrete floor. He tosses a bottle of water through the bars as well. I eye the bucket in the corner of the small cell. Eventually I’ll have to use it, especially if I drink. Which I have to do. I can go several weeks without food. But water? That’s essential.
I pick up the bottle and take it and the bag back to my cot and sit down. I open the bag. Inside is a bruised apple and a piece of stale bread.
“You expect me to eat this?” I ask, scoffing.
He pulls a gun out of the back of his waistband.
I go cold.
“Yeah,” he says. “I expect you to eat it. And if you don’t, I’ll fucking shoot your brains out, bitch.”
Calm down. Get your bearings, Robin.
I inhale. Exhale. Inhale again, trying to regulate my breathing.
I open the bottle of water and take a long sip. It’s not cold, but it’s wet, and damn, it feels good sliding down my aching throat.
I’m about to take another long drink when I realize I’d better eat the bread first. I’ll need the water to be able to swallow it.
I tear off a hunk of the crust and put it in my mouth.
It’s worse than it looks, scraping against the roof of my mouth like sandpaper and breaking into stubborn crumbs that don’t want to go down. I chew anyway, forcing my jaw to keep moving.
I take a small sip of water, just enough to soften what’s left in my mouth. I don’t rush it. I make a point of chewing slowly, as if I have all the time in the world.
Like I’m not sitting in a cell with a man holding a gun on me.
He’s still there. I feel him watching me. Not just making sure I eat, but staring.
Good.
Let him.
I tear off another piece of bread, smaller this time, and pop it into my mouth. Chew. Swallow. Sip.
“You’re enjoying that?” he says.
I glance up at him. “Five-star dining.”
He snorts, shifting his weight. The gun doesn’t move, but his stance loosens a fraction.
I reach for the apple next, turning it in my hand. I press my thumb into the bruise. It’s still edible. I bring it to my mouth and take a bite. It crunches, which surprises me.
I swallow and take another sip of water, careful to ration it. Who knows when I’ll get more?
“How long will I be here?” I ask.
He doesn’t answer right away.
Finally—
“That’s not up to me.”
“Then who?” I press.
He shrugs. “You’ve already met him.”
My stomach tightens. The extremely good-looking captor. The one I talked to like we were sharing cocktails instead of…whatever the hell it was.
I bite into the apple again, harder this time. “Where is he?” I ask with my mouth full.
“He’s on an errand.”
“For what?”
He smiles but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “You ask a lot of questions for someone in your position.”
I lift a shoulder. “I’ve always been curious.”
“Yeah,” he huffs. “I can see that.”
I finish another piece of bread, forcing it down with a longer sip of water this time. My throat aches from the effort, but I don’t stop.
Eat. Drink. Stay alive.
Think later.
Except I don’t have the luxury of later.
I look around the cell again. No cameras that I can see, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t any.
“Why the gun?” I ask casually. “Do you think I’m going to overpower you with stale bread?”
His lips twitch. “You’d be surprised what people try when they get desperate.”
“Am I desperate?” I ask.
“Not yet,” he says.
I look away, taking another bite of the apple to cover the flicker of something that tries to rise in my chest.
Fear.
I clear my throat. “I’m Robin.”
He scowls. “I know who the fuck you are. Eat your food.”
I nod as if he’s being reasonable and take another bite.
He lowers the gun a bit.
Good.
I keep eating. Keep sipping. Keep my breathing steady, even though my pulse is racing, my stomach churning.
I may have been cavalier with the other one, but I’m not stupid. And I’m definitely not helpless.
Not yet.
Until—
The man unlocks my cell. “Inspection time.”
I gulp. “No need. I’ve got nothing in here.”
“I have my orders.”
“Is that your favorite phrase?”