I breathe through the nausea that rolls around in my gut before doing the thing I’ve been avoiding since I first came to. Checking in with my body.
It’s not outside the realm of possibilities that he would have touched me while I was out of it. The opportunity to have me placid and noncombative may have been too tempting for him to pass up, but after allowing my mind to focus on every part of myself, I rule it out.
Normally I wouldn’t feel quite as confident as I do, but seeing as the cool metal of the gun I smuggled is still pressed against my hip, there’s no way he did anything if he didn’t find that.
A breath of relief escapes me, my racing heart calming just enough for me to consider what my next steps should be.
I’m locked in here, that’s almost an absolute certainty, and although I may be able to shoot the door to get out, that’s a surefire way to have my captor come running, which I would like to avoid.
The element of surprise is everything.
Considering I got the jump on him once, I’m astounded he didn’t think to search me while I was unconscious, but I’m not one to look a gift horse in the mouth.
If he’s happy to underestimate a woman who grew up in a crime family, that’s on him.
I spend a few minutes searching the perimeter of the room for cameras or obvious microphones, but it’s slow going in order to keep up the pretense that I’m unconscious.
Once I’m pretty sure there’s nothing in here that’s going to give me away, I push myself up, swallowing the hiss of pain as my stiff body cracks.
I don’t know how long I was out for, but my muscles were not a fan of their time on the concrete floor.
A shiver racks through me, and I rub my hands down my arms, trying to warm my ice-cold skin. The drugs are fucking with me, but it’s cold as hell wherever we are.
Damn Seattle winters.
I should have pulled a sweater on when I was leaving the apartment, but all my focus was on making sure I had what I needed to protect myself and that Colten could find me.
The thought of the man I left sleeping in our bed makes my heart ache, tears gathering in the corners of my eyes that I quickly swipe away.
Why didn’t I tell him I loved him last night?
Why did I have to be so stubborn?
The crazy motherfucker has been keeping me safe from a distance for most of our lives, and the obsession I was so worried about is the only hope I have of getting out of here.
If Colten were a normal guy who had a normal amount of possessiveness, there’s a good chance he wouldn’t have a clue where to start with finding me.
I’m going to try to save myself, but having a backup plan settles the panic just enough for me to think clearly.
Well, as clearly as you can after being kidnapped and drugged.
I push myself to my feet and move toward the door quietly. It would be stupid of me if I didn’t at least try the door, but unsurprisingly, it’s locked.
Satisfied I’ve done all the things I was taught to do if I ever found myself in this position, I return to the corner furthest from the door and lean against the wall.
I should sit down while my body metabolizes the drugs in my system and save my energy, but I’m already aching from the concrete, and I’m freezing, so standing is my best option for right now.
Glancing down at my feet, I press my eyes closed and murmur to myself, “Please hurry, Colten.”
Time passes slowly, far too slowly for my liking.
By now he must know I’m awake, so why am I still locked up and alone?
I drop my head back against the concrete and run through my escape plan for what feels like the millionth time, visualizing every detail so I’m prepared.
The door will open, and he’ll step through it. I’m banking on him being alone and too cocky about his victory to bother locking the door. I’ll beg for my life, plead to go home, cry for the life he’s stolen from me, anything to make him think he’s won. Not knowing what his plans for me are makes it difficult to preplan when I should show my hand, but I’ve run through allthe scenarios, from him leaving me in here to us going to another location, and I think I have a plan for most of them.
But when I hear more than one set of footsteps in the hallway, my throat tightens.
