What the hell!
Frustration streamed through her. She fought her mind from going to the criminal shows on television where people are buried alive. Since she was upright, that didn't make sense, nor did the size of the box she was in. As she made a third pass, slightly higher than the first, she realized that one of the corners was different. She felt along and confirmed that the velvet was one solid piece in three of the four seams, but it there was a definite break in the fourth corner. While she couldn't be sure, her bet was that the entire panel was a door along that side, which was one of the narrower walls.
Satisfied that she at least knew where the door was, she backed against the far wall so that she faced it. Rushing out when it opened was a fleeting thought, but after being in pitch black for God knew how long, she knew she would be blind as soon as any light hit her eyes. She tried to meditate and identify any scents or sounds that would give her an idea of where she was. She wasn't hot, but she also wasn't cold, and she didn't have her jacket on.
She strained her ears to make out the music. Other than a few notes, there wasn't anything that she could decipher. Her stomach growled and despair swept through her again. Eventually, they'd have to let her eat. At least she hoped they would.
She wondered where Colton was, or how he was. She had no way of knowing if her kidnapper went back to the cabin. He was probably frantic when he returned to the cabin and she was gone. Half of her hoped that he was looking for her; the other half hoped he was keeping himself out of danger. She was just a guest, nothing more. Out of sight, out of mind.
And she didn't believe a word of her own bullshit. She had a connection with Colton that she had never had with anyone else. Something that she knew only came around once in a lifetime. She kicked out her feet in frustration. She wanted that chance to find out what kind of life she could have with Colton, and this crap wasn't fair.
Anger took over, and she scooted forward before she laid on her back. With as much force as she could muster, she pulled her legs back and kicked the wall where she figured the door was. Over and over she kicked as hard as she could, the sheer fact of doing something driving her forward. Either she'd get the damned door to pop open, or someone passing by would hear her. The entire box shook from the force of her blows, and she had to keep readjusting herself because she pushed herself too far from the wall.
She repositioned herself and took a deep breath as she brought her legs back over her chest. Just as she struck out with her feet, the wall opened and light flooded into the box. Unable to stop herself, she kicked straight into the crotch of the man that opened the door. Her eyes instantly teared up as she knew they would, but she caught a glimpse of him doubling over before her tears temporarily blinded her.
He grunted in pain. "You little bitch."
She wasn't in a position to kick him again and tried to regroup so she could scramble around him. Too quick, he hooked his arm through hers so she couldn't get away because of her bound hands. She tried to shake him off, but he dragged her to a chair that he shoved her into.
"Move, and I'll break your neck."
Ellie struggled to clear her eyes. When she blinked and looked around, they were in a storage room of sorts. Saddles were stored on sawhorses, and several saddle blankets were stacked on a table. It didn't smell like a barn, but it had the chill of a building that wasn't very well insulated.
The music she had heard was canned music that sounded tinny through the speakers in the room. When she looked at the box she had been held in, she saw hooks higher up on the walls than what she had felt. The outside was nondescript, and the closest she could figure is that it was a storage closet for something that hung, like reins or lassos.
The man sat on a bench next to her taking deep breaths as he tried to work through the pain she had caused. All she could see was the top of his head, but she didn't recognize him. When he finally looked up at her with anger in his eyes, she still had no idea who he was. He had dark, sunken eyes, a scraggly moustache, thinning salt and pepper hair, and creases on his face that she was pretty sure were caused by the weather and outdoors. He was certainly no Kevin Costner.
"You're going to pay for that kick," he snarled at her.
"Seems like I already am," Ellie retorted. "I've been in that box for..." She glanced around. She had no idea if it was day or night. "How long was I in that box?"
"Not long enough." The man stood and took tentative steps as he tried to revive his man parts.
"Who are you? Why am I here? And can I get a drink?"
"Can you shut the hell up? I'm not a babysitter."
"No, you're a kidnapper. And I have had nothing to drink or eat in a long time, so unless you want a dead hostage, I would suggest you cooperate."
He pounded a fist into the table beside her and made her jump. "You don't bark the orders around here. I do. Your little stunt may have gotten you out of the box, but that's as far as you're getting."
She held up her hands. "Can you at least cut me free? My hands are swelling and turning blue." She decided to try another tactic. Sometimes the most hardened criminals still appreciated a little softness. At least that was what she learned watching all the shows. "Please? They really hurt."
He stared at her, but he didn't say no.
"Okay, I'm sorry I kicked you. It was very rude but put yourself in my place. One, I was already kicking when you opened the door, and two, I'm a hostage. I'm supposed to want to get free."
He sighed and pulled out his pocket knife. "If you make a run for it, the next ones will be tighter, I promise."
"I wouldn't dream of it." She batted her eyes at him. "I promise."
He motioned for her to hold her hands up. "I smell bullshit, but your hands do look painful."
With a quick snap, her hands were free. She rubbed her wrists to get the blood flow going. "What's your name?"
"You can call me Phil."
"So, what's the plan, Phil?"
