by Jenika Snow
“You’re thinking about running?” Abe asked from where he was sitting on the chair across from her, cleaning a gun, of all things.
She should have been scared shitless as she watched him take it apart and clean it with expert motions, but she wasn’t—not in the least, in fact. He didn’t look at her as he ran the once-white rag, now a dingy brown color, over the barrel of his handgun. She stared at where he had pushed his sleeves to his elbows, watched as his forearms flexed with unrestrained strength, and everything inside of her clenched painfully. She didn’t answer, yet he still didn’t look at her.
“If not about escaping, then maybe about your family,” he said softly in that deep, masculine voice of his.
She glanced down at the chain still attached around her ankle. Over the last seven days of being in this cabin she had watched him and this routine he had. Ever since having sex with him he made her sleep in bed with him, and although he didn’t try to be with her in that way, he did hold her and stroke his hand over her hair. It was calming, and every time he did that—like a before-bed ritual—she would fall asleep peacefully in his arms. At first she had internally fought that comfort, but then she had just accepted and embraced it. She couldn’t even remember the last time she’d had any kind of comfort. Her mother might have done it when she was a child, but that had passed as soon as it had come, and obviously hadn’t made any kind of lasting impression. And then there was Steven, a man that was looking for a sexual relationship before she was saddled to him out of some kind of social obligation to her father. But she didn’t owe anything to anyone but herself.
He set the dismembered gun on the coffee table and looked up at her. For one week she had been with him, chained to one of the walls in this small cabin. For one week she had watched this man walk around like they were some kind of demented married couple. He leaned back in the chair, but stayed just as quiet as she did.
“No, I’m not thinking of leaving.”
He cocked a brow, but didn’t say anything, as if waiting for her to continue.
“I realized that no one is coming for me.” She glanced down at the chain, and lifted her leg, causing the metal to slide and clang against the wall. “And it doesn’t have anything to do with the fact I can’t go anywhere.” She swallowed as he held his gaze with hers, and she hated and felt comforted at the fact that his stare alone could make her feel so exposed. Shifting on the chair, she realized that out of everyone in her life this man—her captor—was the only one that cared for her. His feelings might not be conventional, but they were real in their own way. It was a frightening and warming sensation. She looked back at his face, knowing that Abe’s methods of trying to change her life were unconventional in the most deranged way, but that they were the first real thing in her life. “My whole life I’ve been in this box that my family built around me. I acted how they wanted me to, did what they told me to do, and I think deep down it was also to gain some kind approval or love from them.”
He was unmoving and didn’t speak, but she knew he was listening intently.
“You’re the first person that looked at me and saw that I was unhappy.” Tears threatened to spill forth, not the kind she hated, but the kind she welcomed. They were the cleansing kind, the ones that made her feel like her soul was finally free, and it had taken this situation to have her finally open up and realize what she needed to do. Thinking about it for years hadn’t been the same thing, because she still had this noose of expectation around her neck. “I’m sorry.” She brushed away the lone tear that that slipped from her. “While I don’t agree with how you did it, I understand why.” At least she did to the extent that he wanted her to realize herself in a different life. Yes, right now this wasn’t living as she was his prisoner, and that was no different than the life she had led at her father’s estate, but there was a vast difference with how she felt in this situation.
Here she woke, was allowed to bathe and dress without the expectation of looking perfect for company, and wasn’t expected to abide by a certain structure throughout the day. Maybe this had been Abe’s plan all along, to brainwash her into wanting her to believe his reasoning. But she couldn’t say that all of these things hadn’t already consumed her more than once in her life.
Abe stood and moved toward her, and she pushed herself back against the chair. She didn’t know what to expect with him on most days. The routine was always the same, but his emotions seemed to become unhinged at the slightest provocation. He crouched in front of her, laid a hand on either side, caging her in, and stared into his eyes.
“What are you doing?” She whispered after he had been staring at her for several silent moments. He was so handsome, so masculine and dangerous, and maybe that was part of the appeal. Bethany didn’t know what was right and wrong when it came to how her emotions were growing for this man, but what she did know was that to others this would be considered toxic and a nightmare at best.
“I’m staring at you, Bethany.” There was no riddle in his words. The thing with Abe was he told her how it was, and didn’t mince his words.
“But why?” Again she said it so softly that if anyone had been in the room with them they wouldn’t have been able to hear her. She obviously didn’t mean it in the literal sense, because Abe did many things that she didn’t understand, but knew were genuine in his intentions. Whether that was right or wrong was debatable, but they were always done with honest intent.
“Because I am looking at a woman that has finally realized in here–” He placed his hand on her heart, and for as bad as this man was on many levels, there was this side that she had never witnessed before. It was soft, gentle. “—that your life can be so much more if only with the right person.”
“And that person is you?” She didn’t say it with any emotion in her voice.
He removed his hand and leaned back, clearly annoyed by her comment. “You have two choices.” He left a moment of silence between them, as if he were trying for a dramatic effect. It worked. “Accept me and everything I am going to give you, or stay chained.” He stood without looking at her again, and in a matter of minutes had successfully put the gun he was cleaning back together. He loaded it and her heart started pounding hard and fast. When he slipped it into the waistband at the small of his back, her palms started to sweat as well as the space between her breasts. He turned and looked at her, once again wearing his hard mask of indifference. Without saying anything he headed out of the cabin and shut the door behind him.
Where was he going? When would he be back? God, she hated that she worried, but he had left her chained without telling her what was going on. And then she heard the sound of his truck being started. She stood and moved over to the window, but stayed off to the side. Abe drove away from the cabin, and only when she could no longer see him and the dust had settled from his departure, she slowly turned around. The chain felt especially heavy right now. Even if Abe had made her realize that she was free, she couldn’t actually live her life the way she wanted to if she was chained up in this cabin. She searched around the small kitchen and living room, and although she knew there was nothing that could break apart the thick padlock, or cut through the chain, she needed to search. She had no clue how long he would be gone. It could be minutes or hours, and every second counted.
She opened every drawer, threw wooden and plastic utensils on the ground, and then deserted the kitchen to search the living room. Aside from the small end table where a lamp sat and the coffee table, there weren’t any drawers she could search through. No, he had done a fine job of removing anything that she could use as a weapon. She looked out the window again when she thought she heard something. Her heart was pounding so hard now, and maybe that had been all it was. But she didn’t have time to sit and contemplate, or wonder how long she truly was going to be here.
Picking up the length of her chain beside her ankle, she moved quickly into the bathroom. She had searched in here as well nearly every time she took a shower. It was one o
f the only times he allowed her to be without the chain. Even when sleeping he kept her tethered to the wall, and anchored to his body.
When the bathroom came up with nothing but the few plastic shower bottles and some hygiene products, she moved down the hall and stopped in front of his closed bedroom door. He kept it locked in the daytime, but this lock wasn’t thick and made of steel. It was one of those cheap-looking ones built into the handle with a hole in the center. The door was also old, and when she shook the handle the whole frame seemed to move slightly. With one more look behind her and out the window, she moved back into the kitchen and searched the utensil graveyard. There were a few bamboo skewers, nothing that could be considered lethal, not unless she aimed just right, but it was as good as it was going to get right now.
After grabbing a skewer, she rushed back to the door. God, she felt foolish for even trying to open a lock with a stick of bamboo, but what else was she going to do? She tried to work it in the lock, and although it fit, when she tried jiggling it around she feared it would snap in half. Her hands shook, and adrenaline coursed through her body. But then she heard that click of the lock becoming unengaged. She quickly turned the handle and pushed the door open. She didn’t even know if there was anything of use in here. Yes, he had locked the door, but he clearly didn’t care about how sturdy the lock was if she could easily open it. She took several steps inside, but when the length of the chain stopped her from going any further she could have cried from the emotions moving through her veins. But as she looked around at the bare room the tears finally did fall. It was no use. She couldn’t even contemplate a plan for getting the fucking chain off her leg. And then she heard the crunch of tires as Abe came back. For a moment she thought about just standing in the room and not caring if he saw the destruction she’d caused. But survival won out and she quickly left the room, shut the door behind her, and went into the kitchen. She was in the process of picking up the cutlery that was scattered on the floor when she heard the front door open.
“Bethany, come out from there.”
She wiped the drying tears from her eyes, and right as she was about to stand she saw another skewer on the floor by her feet. Grabbing it and tucking it against her side, she slowly rose. Abe stood by the still open doorway holding a small brown paper bag. “Hi, I didn’t expect you back so soon.” She tried to calm herself and appear nonplussed. “I mean, I didn’t know when you were coming back, but I thought…” she glanced around the floor. “I thought I’d make us dinner. I couldn’t find something, and then I dropped everything.” She was rambling, and although Abe said nothing in response, he also didn’t move away from the door and showed no expression. She laughed nervously, and told herself to get a hold on her emotions or she wouldn’t be able to do what she had planned on doing. The wood skewer was becoming moist as her palms started to sweat.
“You planned on cooking dinner.” He didn’t phrase it like a question. He slowly shut the door behind him and moved closer to her.
But she held her ground and smiled. “Yes.” She cleared her throat and laughed nervously. “I, I um, thought maybe we could talk about stuff.” She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply. “I know you’re right, Abe, and I’m ready to be a part of this with you.” When she opened her eyes again she felt strength fill her.
He set the bag on the counter and the loud clank of what was clearly a bottle inside of it sounded obscenely loud. “I don’t know if I should feel pleasure that you are finally understanding and admitting that you belong with me, or angry that you’re clearly trying to plot something.” He sighed and ran a hand over the back of his neck.
She looked at the bag again and realized that he hadn’t been gone for more than half an hour, even if it had felt like only minutes. Was there a store close by? She reached out for the bag, but stopped right before she grabbed it and looked at him. He watched her silently, stoically. When he didn’t stop her she opened the bag and reached inside. What she pulled out was a bottle of wine. It wasn’t just any wine, but the kind that was only available at one of the stores in Sinnerstown. Did he realize that, or was this just a ploy that he was showing her she was so close yet so far away?
“My favorite.” She gripped the neck of the bottle tightly. “Can you get us some glasses?”
He turned after a moment and grabbed the cups, and set them in front of her.
“How did you know?” Her voice shook slightly, but she willed herself to continue playing the good girl he wanted.
He took hold of her chin between his thumb and forefinger and lifted her head so that she was forced to look him in the face. He was like this dark, fallen angel, all dressed in black, and looking deadly and dangerous. “What are you trying to do, Bethany?” he asked low and deep.
She swallowed and shook her head as much as his grip allowed. “I’m not doing anything, just trying to accept this.”
“You’re trembling.” He paused for a moment. “You’re even more scared of me right now than I believe you have been this whole time.”
Yes, she was, but only because she was trying to leave. She couldn’t stay here and let her feelings for him escalate any more than they already had. He was drowning her in this false comfort, or at least she told herself it was false. She wanted to be able to choose where she went and with whom. Maybe at a different time and in a different mindset she could have found her way to Abe alone. She could certainly see herself with a powerful, dominant man, being loved, cherished and protected. And Abe seemed like he was all of those combined in a deadly, mentally unstable package. But who was she to say he was sick in the head? Sure, look at the things he had done to her, and the weight of the chain around her ankle was a steady, constant reminder of that. But who was mentally stable in this world anymore?
Staying at a place that she loathed, with people surrounding her that she hated, most certainly wouldn’t be considered sane to anyone. But that had been her life, and she was about to change it right now.
Chapter Eleven
Abe sat back at the kitchen table and watched Bethany move closer to him with a pot of spaghetti. With only a generator running the electricity in the house, he had stocked the cabin with more nonperishable items than with things stored in a refrigerator. He knew she was up to something, but he didn’t know what that something was. Abe was a master at reading people, and when he had first come back with the wine and he found her on the floor with the kitchen in a total disaster, he knew she had been trying to find something to aid in her escape. But she wouldn’t find anything, not without hours upon hours of searching. He kept a key for the lock on the ankle, but he had a spare hidden in his room under one of the floorboards. If something were to happen he wanted to make sure provisions had been set in place. But then again he didn’t anticipate anyone coming for them. Of course he was a suspect in the search. He had up and left without resignation from the employment of Robert. The typed letter he had left for her family was vague, but it had just enough information to lead them to believe she’d left of her own free will.
She set the pot on the table and the scent of tomato and garlic filled his nose. He had never had a home-cooked meal prepared for him, and although she was doing this most likely as a way to escape, he reveled in this one moment.
“Sit down, Bethany.” He grabbed the bottle of wine and poured them both some. He pushed her glass toward her once she was seated. The sound of the chain she wore clanking against the floor shouldn’t have turned him on, but seeing her bound did do something wicked to him. Even when he knew she wasn’t being genuine right now, he grew hard as he looked at her. Her hair was long and dark, slightly wavy and falling over her shoulders. Her bone structure was delicate, fragile even. In fact, her entire body was willowy, and the images of her long, shapely legs wrapped around his waist as he slammed into her played through his head over and over again. She had been chained when he had taken her a week ago, and as much as he wanted to fuck her every night, he had kept his distance. He wasn’t some sick
fucking pervert, even if she thought that.
“You’re not hungry?” She pointed to the bowl of salad, the garlic bread sitting beside it, and the pan overflowing with pasta. She had easily made enough to feed a houseful of people instead of just the two of them. She had made all of it while he sat here and drank straight from the bottle of whiskey he had also brought from the winery well before he had taken her. Most likely she had thought she was far closer to home than she’d initially assumed. Yes, they were close, but he had stored the alcohol as well as a few other supplies in a storage shed a few miles up on the property. “Is this your home?” Now she was starting in on the small talk, warming up to him in an attempt to make him let his guard down further.
He smirked, not about to remind her of the training he’d had for half of his life. He leaned forward and pushed the salad bowl toward her. He had a nice buzz going, but he was also always with it. Never would he get to the point that he couldn’t protect her and make sure she was safe. She was what he wanted, what he had worked for this whole time, and he planned on making it stay that way. “Eat.” She only ate when he ordered her to, and that wouldn’t do. He had always liked a thicker form on a woman, and hers was far too thin.
She swallowed audibly and reached for the salad. After placing some on her plate, grabbing a spoonful of pasta and doing the same, she handed it over to him.
“You’re nervous again, Bethany.” He took the spoon for the pasta. After getting some portions on his plate, he leaned back in the chair. The truth was he wasn’t hungry, not when he was curiously aroused as to what she planned on doing.