by Kitty Thomas
“I’ll be fine. I’m really more of a city girl.”
“I make you uncomfortable.”
She made a face. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
Veronica jumped when he went for his wallet, and he arched a brow. That eyebrow had a mind and life of its own.
He unfolded the smooth leather and slid an ivory business card across the table. The font was Palatino Linotype—classy, and not at all what she’d expect from a Rancher. She wondered if he’d picked it himself or if someone named Kimberly or Tiffany had suggested it. The ink was in burnt umber. There was a crude image—almost like a stencil—of a G with steer horns coming out of it—also in the brown ink. In the middle of the ivory rectangle were the words: Granger Ranch, Luke Granger, owner. An address and phone number were in the lower left, along with a website.
For the briefest moment, Veronica pretended she’d take his offer and that he wasn’t potentially dangerous. The business card painted a nice, peaceful scene far from the stress of the city.
“The guys convinced me to take a much-needed vacation, so I’ll be here til the end of next week. You can call me if you change your mind. That number is my cell. I always have it on me.”
“I don’t think I will.” She slid the card back in his direction.
He shrugged. “Suit yourself. Keep the card. I got a bulk discount.” He laid some money on the table and walked out of the diner.
The waitress sat two cups of coffee down on the table. “Is he coming back?”
“Probably not,” Veronica said, unsure if she was relieved or disappointed.
“Shame. He’s a fine looking cowboy. He could ride me any day.”
It seemed to be the sentiment of the day.
***
Veronica sat at the kitchen table with her pile of bills, credit cards, and a bowl of Ramen noodles, keenly aware of how close to nothing she was. Between the bad economy and her colorful job history, her industry as a whole seemed to have decided they were no longer buying what she was selling. Even crappy jobs outside her industry were in short supply these days. Moving to a new city required money she didn’t have, so that was out.
Being confronted with the reality of her finances and job prospects in such short order was bracing to say the least.
Luke’s business card sat to the side. It reminded her of a famous short story: “The Lady or the Tiger” by Frank Stockton. The only thing she remembered of the story was that a man was presented with two doors. Behind one of them was a beautiful woman who presumably he would take as his wife. Behind the other was a tiger that would maul him to death.
The Rancher’s offer felt like that kind of choice. She could choose to stay in the city and try to put her life back together. She could end up pulling it together and having a happy ending, or as a prostitute in an alleyway strung out on heroin. Similarly, if she went with Luke, she could end up safe and happy or in a hole in the ground. It was impossible to know which choice would result in her death, but she felt certain one of them would.
Her credit cards were laid out in a row, ready to be put in the appropriate pile: maxed out or usable. Given her current predicament, all maxed cards would have to be cut up, the others she’d have to live on sparingly, along with her last paycheck, until she could work something else out. She stacked her most current credit card statements in the order the cards were in.
“Maxed out, maxed out, maxed out, maxed out, usable, maxed out, maxed out, usable, usable, Victoria’s Secret...” Victoria’s Secret wasn’t maxed, but it had to go in the maxed pile. A card to a lingerie store couldn’t feed her—or actually it could, but she wasn’t about to go down that road. “maxed out, maxed out, maxed out.” The rest were department store cards which suffered the same unfortunate drawback of Victoria’s Secret.
Even with her income, it shouldn’t have been possible for her to acquire so many credit cards. And yet here she was: five Visas, four Mastercards, one Discover card, three American Express cards, and all the rest. Three cards were still usable. One Mastercard and two Visas. Each card had less than two hundred dollars available. She had one paycheck coming in two days and a final check in two weeks. A little under five thousand dollars to her name after taxes, including credit cards. Even if they weren’t maxed, she’d have to get rid of the American Express. The annual fees were too much on top of everything else.
Veronica cut up the bad cards, but rationalized keeping the store cards. After all, if she had no apartment, there was only so much she could carry with her. People needed clothes. She felt like a fugitive. She wouldn’t be able to get an apartment even as nice as the one she was in without proof of current employment. And if she dropped to the next level down, she might as well be the heroin-addicted whore in the alley.
Chapter Two
A week and a half later found her in a deserted park looking like a bag lady. She’d had to be forcibly removed from her apartment. She’d been to all the employment agencies, but the only things available—she was overqualified for. What did that even mean? If you could do more, couldn’t you just as easily do less and take the pay cut?
She’d ended up taking only a couple of bags of personal belongings; paying for storage would only get her in a soup kitchen line sooner. She’d thought about selling her stuff on eBay, but the logistics of running an online store from a cheap hotel room while she was running out of money stopped her. She’d be robbed blind if she brought most of that stuff to where she was currently staying, anyway.
It was only a matter of time before the money ran out, and she didn’t want to think about what would happen then.
“Ronnie?”
Veronica looked up to see Luke standing in front of her, as physically appealing as ever, while she was doing a great impersonation of a homeless person. She knew she looked like a deer in headlights. There was no other way to look. This wasn’t a public place. Technically it was, but the public was out doing other things. She and the cowboy were alone.
He sighed. “It’s only been a few days. What could have gone this far south in that period of time? Surely you have savings, friends, family... ?”
She didn’t want to give him any information but she was sure the expression on her face answered all of his questions. He sat beside her on the bench, and she inched away, trying not to be obvious about it.
“Has somebody hurt you? Is that why you’re scared of me?”
“No. You’re a stranger. And we’re alone. Isn’t that enough?” She left off the part about him watching her, and probably following her, and all the creepy pieces that added up to freaking her out. It was more than a little weird that he was pursuing her like this, offering her a job when she had zero experience of anything that wasn’t in a city.
“Maybe,” he said, unconvinced. “Anyway, I want to show you something.”
She jumped again when he reached in his pocket, but all he came out with was a phone. “I want to show you the ranch. We just set up the website last week. Would you like to see it? Maybe you could help keep it updated.”
Veronica nodded slowly, not liking the way she was being pulled into his trap one answer and small capitulation at a time. He pulled the site up and handed her the phone. The sun began to set, and she was uncomfortably aware of that fact. It would be dark soon. She needed to get away from him and back to her room and the small bit of safety life still afforded her.
She flipped through the pages of the site, getting hungrier with each page. They sold grass-fed beef, as well as milk, cheese, and butter. There were pictures of food that made her want to beg him to take her with him despite the danger he posed. She’d been rationing money for food, afraid for when it ran out. Wasn’t staying in New York the tiger? What if both doors had tigers of different breeds—grisly death either way?
“There are lots of things you could do out there. We’d keep you busy and well fed.”
“Why are you doing this? I was a jerk to you, and I have no ranch-related skills.”
He looked a
way, but she’d seen his eyes before he’d managed it. He wanted her. She didn’t know why, and she didn’t really care. It was pure animal lust, and going with him meant one way or another she’d end up in his bed.
“I just want to help you.”
She handed the phone back to him, a chill going down her spine as the sun sank beneath the trees. She felt torn. A part of her wanted to ask him to walk her back to her room, but she didn’t feel safe with him, either: then he’d know where she slept at night.
“I’m sorry, I really can’t. I’ll be fine.”
He sighed deeply and stood. “All right. You still have my card?”
Veronica nodded. She’d held that card in her hands, staring at it for days now, wanting it to be a real safety net but too afraid it was a trap. She’d never been the woman who trusted pretty strangers. Women around her would get drunk at bars and trustingly go home with strange men because they were attractive, and therefore somehow safe. Veronica had never looked at things that way. Strangers were strangers. Men you didn’t know were men you couldn’t trust. And what did she know about men you could trust? Nothing. For all she knew, such men were a fairy tale.
“If you change your mind, call me. I’ll come get you.”
He started to walk away, and for a hysterical moment she wanted to beg him to take her with him. Judging by the way her house of cards had fallen around her, it was fuck him for room and board or fuck strangers. Stripping would be an option right before it got that dire, but she wasn’t sure she could stand on a stage and shed her clothing while men ogled her. It seemed almost as bad as sex with strangers for money.
He’d gotten several yards away when he cursed, turned around, and came right for her. There was purpose and determination on his face that froze her to the bench, immobilizing her even down to her vocal cords. By the time she worked up a scream, his hand was over her mouth.
“Sorry, Ronnie, you’re coming with me.”
Instinctively she bit his hand, and just as instinctively he smacked her, but he didn’t look sorry. That scared her more than anything else. He hadn’t hit her hard, and didn’t look like he would do it again, but the look in his eyes—the look that dared her to challenge him right now—was enough.
“Fine. Scream. My truck’s not far.”
She kicked desperately out at him, but he swept an arm under her legs and scooped her up. Even with her wriggling and struggling, he made it back to the truck.
He’d left the doors unlocked, probably something he’d grown used to in Vermont. Unluckily for her, some thug hadn’t stolen it. She screamed one last time before he shoved her into the passenger side. Moments later, rope from the trunk was being tied around her wrists and ankles. He pulled out a knife, and she shrank back.
“I’m cutting the rope, not you. Relax.”
Relax!?
“Ask again why I’m afraid of you.” She couldn’t stop the tears streaming down her cheeks.
“This is just so you don’t hurt me or wreck us. That’s it. Judging from the state you were in just a week after you were fired, if I left you, you’d die in a ditch or be raped in an alley.”
“How do I know that fate doesn’t await me with you?”
“Guess you’ll have to start being nicer to me.”
He took the second length of rope and pulled her wrists down and tied them to her ankles. The rope was long enough that she could sit up properly in the car, but not long enough for her to hold her arms up to get the attention of other motorists.
Five minutes later he started the engine. It was fully dark now.
“Just let me go.” She tried her best to stay calm, but the act was failing miserably.
“No.”
“Are you going to kill me?”
“Don’t be silly. Why would I kill you?”
She snorted. “Why would you kidnap me?”
“Because you clearly can’t take care of yourself. Now I’ve got a place for you where you’ll be fed and safe instead of out on the streets like a crack addict.”
“Are you going to keep me tied up?”
“No. I told you, I have work for you. You’ll be doing work.”
“Like hell, you cretin. I’m not your slave.”
He glanced in the rear view and pulled onto the interstate. “Let me ask you something. Do you have any friends you can stay with?” He had to know the answer to that, given how he’d found her—assuming he hadn’t followed her the whole week. He was just tormenting her.
“No. I have, or had, coworkers.”
“Why don’t you have friends? Could it be your charming personality?”
Veronica stared out the window into the night as it blurred by. So much for her lady or the tiger choice. She tried not to cry when she answered. “I worked long hours, so I didn’t have time for much of a social life. What time I did have was spent with coworkers, and I never let them get too close.”
“Why not?”
“I got into financial trouble and lost my penthouse. Status is a big deal in my circle. I couldn’t let them know I was living in such a bad apartment. They aren’t the kind of friends that would let you crash at their place, anyway.” The walls around her personal bubble had dissolved in light of being kidnapped. Now, talking—making him see her as human—felt like her only shot at survival. He hadn’t taken her to help her. He’d taken her because he wanted her. He’d come in like some barbarian and scooped her up as if she were the spoils of war.
“Are you still living in the apartment?”
She shot him a look. “No, I’ve been abducted.”
A small grin inched up his face. At least it didn’t look like a serial killer grin. She hoped.
“You know what I mean.”
“No, I was evicted about a month ago. The day I got fired I had three days left there.”
“So where were you living when I saw you tonight?”
“A hotel. Not a really nice one, but not seedy enough that I felt unsafe sleeping.”
“I see.”
They were quiet for several miles. Veronica decided not to waste her energy fighting him right now. Taking her across state lines was bad, but he’d have to stop for gas or a bathroom break at some point. If she just waited, she’d have her opportunity, assuming she could move like this or find something to cut through the ropes.
“Do you have family?” he asked.
“No.”
“Dead?”
“That’s rude.”
“I learned it from you.”
She sighed. “My mom is overseas. I don’t even have her phone number. My dad left.”
“When?”
“A long time ago.”
Veronica sat perfectly still, reviewing the past few minutes of conversation. In her attempt to seem human, she’d made it clear what easy prey she was. No family. No friends. No one to miss her. She’d just given him everything he needed. Now he could do whatever he wanted with her and no one would make a call. No one would file a missing person report. No one would be looking for her.
“You should have had savings,” he said. “With what you were probably making, there’s no excuse for—”
“Hey! I don’t have to listen to this shit. You’re breaking the law, and you’re probably going to kill me, so on top of that I don’t have to listen to your stupid bullshit. My business is my business. You got it?” The shot of bravery was stupid.
He pulled the car over on the shoulder, and leaned in so close that when he spoke, his warm breath feathered out against her face. “Princess, you have to listen to whatever I say you have to listen to. I took you because I wanted you. All right? Sheer want. I rode up and rescued your ass, and when I’m finished with you, you’ll politely thank me for it.”
Veronica reeled back like she’d been slapped again. “Fine. I fucking hate men. Sandy called it. You bully. You shove your weight around. I never feel safe anywhere I go alone because I might come across a man like you. And even if I’m not around a man like you, I have to
worry that maybe that’s what I’ve stumbled upon. I can never feel safe walking through a park at night, or on an elevator with a man alone, or in a parking garage...”
“Who hurt you?”
“Besides you?”
“Oh, I haven’t hurt you, yet.”
The yet hung on the air, the darkest threat of the night so far.
Tears slid down her cheeks.
“Answer my question.”
“No one.”
He eased back and she could finally breathe again, then he turned the key in the ignition and pulled back onto the road.
***
Veronica woke with a jolt when the car door slammed. The clock on the dashboard indicated it was close to midnight.
“You fell asleep, princess.”
“Stop calling me that.”
The gas station he’d stopped at was deserted, with only one flickering light over the gas pump. The night clerk looked like he’d done his fair share of felony, so no help there.
“Are you hungry?”
She’d been hungry since Luke had found her in the park hours ago. She watched him, afraid to look any weaker than she already looked.
“I got you chips and a drink. You’ll eat better when we get home.” He opened both the chips and soda and passed them to her.
“Could you untie me?”
“Not until we get home.”
“I have to pee.”
“Not here.”
“I really have to go.”
“Just eat your snack. I’ll find a place.”
She bent awkwardly forward to eat, her tied hands making it difficult. She wished she was lying about having to use the bathroom. If he stopped on the side of the road somewhere and watched her, she’d die from the humiliation.
“I hope you like BBQ,” he said. “I didn’t know what kind to get. You were asleep.”
She did like BBQ, but if he was starting to feel guilty for the situation, she wasn’t about to assuage his guilt with a show of gratitude. Somehow in her mind, everything that had happened was her fault. If she’d managed her money better, she wouldn’t have been so stressed and lost her job. She would have been living in the penthouse still, and she would have made a nice breakfast in her big kitchen with the island oven before work that day. Her path and psycho-cowboy’s path never would have crossed. He would have gone back to Vermont without her ever meeting him, and she’d have a raise, and the coveted corner office with the giant windows and spectacular view.