“He was going to kill me. He said so. How did you find me?” I wail. My panic hasn’t ended. Who are these guys? There’s a good chance I’m not one bit safer now that they’ve rescued me.
The man holding me is muscular and huge. When I sway, he easily lifts me off my feet and cradles me in his arms. He holds me protectively, even covering my eyes until he carries me out the back door, presumably to keep me from seeing one more second of the action.
I struggle. “I’m good now,” I argue. “Put me down.”
He tips his head to frown at me. “Angel, you’ve been through hell. You can barely stand up. Let me get you out of here.”
I panic further and look around as he hurries through the backyard and into the tree line. What the hell? My panic resumes full force. “Where are you taking me? Who are you?” I try to get free of him, but I’m too weak and tired. So drained that I can hardly hold my head up, let alone walk or run.
“My name’s Cannon, and I’m taking you to my SUV. It’s hidden a few houses from here. I promise you’re safe with me.”
Those words are like cold water doused on my face. “No. God, no. Let me go. Please.” I’m wailing again.
Cannon pulls me closer to his chest so my face presses against his neck and runs with me.
Ohgodohgodohgod. What I have now is a new captor. Why? I don’t have the energy to fight him off, so I go limp in his arms. I’m running out of will. Even if I managed to get away from him, I would likely stumble and land on my face. There’s no way I could run for help. Any possible adrenaline rush I might have had is zapped. I’m out of steam.
I’m aware of a door opening, and then he climbs into the back of a vehicle and shuts the door. He leans me back in his arms and reaches across the seat to grab something.
Renewed strength causes me to buck upward and reach for the door, but he traps me against him with an arm around my waist. I hear a zipper behind me, and then he tilts me back again and gently wipes my face.
“I know you’re scared, angel, but I swear you’re safe.” He continues cleaning me up with a soft cloth. I think it’s a T-shirt. He wipes my eyes and my cheeks and my nose.
He smells good, and that annoys me. Plus, he’s attractive. That pisses me off even more. I shouldn’t find any man attractive. Fuck men. But this one is really good-looking. Deep brown eyes bore into me. His brow is furrowed, putting a wrinkle between his eyes. He has thick brown hair and a well-groomed beard. It’s soft. I know because my cheek has rubbed against it several times.
I stare at him. My heart slows. Could I possibly be safe? No. Of course not. I’ll never be safe. But I do feel in significantly less danger than I did five minutes ago.
“What’s your name, angel?”
I stare at him. There’s no fucking way I’m giving him my name. Not even my first name. I may never give it to another living soul again.
He sets the T-shirt aside and brushes curls from my forehead. “It’s okay. You don’t have to talk.” He reaches around me again. This time, he holds up a bottle of water. “I bet you’re thirsty.”
I stare at it for a moment. Is this a trick? I feel like a dumb girl who got lured into a van with promises of candy or puppies. That’s basically what happened today. I’ve made so many bad choices in my life that I probably am a dumb girl. But, fuck me, I’ve also had really bad luck.
Cannon. What kind of name is that? He unscrews the lid from the bottle and holds it out.
I’m suddenly very thirsty, so I reach for it, but my hand is shaking violently, and the moment I grab it, water sloshes over the top. It splashes all down the front of both of us, and I gasp, flinching and pinning my gaze on Cannon’s. It’s a knee-jerk reaction to expect him to slap me for getting his shirt wet.
Instead, he wraps his steady hand around mine, pulls me more upright, and tips the water toward my lips.
I guzzle it because I’m so fucking parched.
Cannon doesn’t admonish me in any way. He doesn’t say a word as I drain the water bottle. When it’s gone, he tosses it on the seat. “Good girl. You can have more in a minute. I don’t want you to have too much at once. Your stomach will get upset.”
I stare at him. I can’t breathe. Did he just call me a good girl? No one has ever called me a good girl. Tears run down my cheeks. I can’t stop them. I have the sense that he really might be a nice guy who rescued me with no ulterior motive. I’ve developed a sixth sense for assholes, and I don’t get that vibe from Cannon. Although heaven knows I’ve been wrong before. Pete, for example.
I suppose there are some decent men in the world, but I’ve rarely met them. I had a guidance counselor in high school who tried to help me once when I was about fifteen, but I only saw him a few times before I was transferred to another foster family and had to switch schools.
A few times, I thought men were going to be nice to me, and then I found out they just wanted something. Usually sex. I’ve had a rough life. I deserve a fucking break even if it’s only for ten minutes in the back of this SUV. I’m going to pretend this gorgeous man who’s looking me in the eyes like I matter is kind. I can’t wrap my head around any other possibilities today. I’m tapped out.
Cannon picks up the T-shirt again and wipes my cheeks. “Is anyone looking for you, angel?”
I swallow. I’m not going to answer that question either. For some reason, I don’t feel like lying to this man, but there’s no way I’m going to divulge a single word of my truth.
He strokes my cheek. “It’s okay,” he repeats. “I get it. You don’t know me. Why should you trust me? I bet you trusted Pete Stark, and that didn’t go so well for you.”
No, it did not. He’s right.
