Now she knew better.
After spending so many years believing she had escaped her hellish family without being warped by their insanity, well major trust issues aside anyway, it seemed she had been sorely mistaken. They had managed to paint her with their crazy brush, because along with the icy cold anger, was curiosity, a desire to solve a puzzle that had been presented to her.
Well, there was a small undercurrent of fear too, but it mostly stemmed from the fact that she had no idea what this man wanted from her, if he had targeted her specifically, or if he’d picked a house at random and she had been unlucky enough to be inside it. Without answers, she didn't know what to expect, but once she understood the ground rules, she would know how best to work with this situation.
There was no doubt in her mind that Mr. Bedroom Man was currently in her little cell, but he hadn't said anything yet and had made no move to touch her or hurt her. If he tried touching her, she would do her best to defend herself. It wouldn't work, of course, it never did, but she was no wilting little flower. She was a rose, and he was about to see how sharp her thorns could be.
Opening her eyes, she saw the shadowy figure standing by the door. She’d chosen one of the two corners furthest away from the door on purpose, it gave her a couple of extra seconds and sometimes that made all the difference.
Since she’d gotten the barest glimpse of the man in her bedroom when he abducted her before he was holding her down and she was injected with something, she was surprised to see his size. He wasn’t just bigger than her, he was huge. Looked like he had at least a foot of height on her, and he had to outweigh her by at least a hundred pounds. Damn her genes which made it difficult to bulk up no matter what she ate. It had always been something she liked because it helped with her gymnastics, butnow she wished she had another hundred pounds to even things out.
As though seeing, or maybe sensing her eyes on him, his head nodded.
At first, Rose thought that was directed at her, an acknowledgment that he knew she was awake. But as soon as he nodded, the room was suddenly flooded with light.
It had been a while since she’d been forced to play this game. Ensconced in darkness only to have her sadistic family suddenly switch on the light because they knew it sent shafts of pain shooting right through your eyes.
“Very amateurish,” she murmured, feeling the man’s surprise since she couldn’t see him as she’d been forced to scrunch her eyelids closed to protect her vision. As well as using what she would consider to be baby tactics, he’d also tipped his hand. Now she knew he wasn't alone, there was at least one other man—or woman—here, because Mr. Bedroom Man hadn't turned on the lights.
A hint of a memory tickled the back of her mind, but she didn't have time to hold onto it right now.
“What the hell is up with you?” the man muttered, she assumed more to himself than to her, but nonetheless she heard him and chuckled.
“Trust me, a question I've asked myself many times over the years,” she assured him. She had never realized how messed up her family had left her. Oh well, seemed their personal brand of crazy was only going to help her now.
Easing open her eyes, she found Mr. Bedroom Man still standing by the door. Since he hadn't moved and was watching her like she was some kind of newly discovered specimen, she took the time to study him back.
Dressed in black from head to foot, black boots, black jean-clad tree trunk-like legs, a black long-sleeve T-shirt thatstretched across a broad chest, black gloves, and a black balaclava that allowed her to see nothing more than his eyes. If he was trying to look like the bogeyman, he was doing a pretty good job of it.
For anyone else at least.
Anyone normal.
“I thought the bogeyman wore blue coveralls and a white Halloween mask,” she told him. “Oh, and he’s kind of addicted to his knife.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” the man before her growled.
“Not a horror movie fan then? Michael Myers, you know, from the Halloween franchise. He was the bogeyman. I presume that’s the vibe you're going for. Just thought you should know you didn't get it quite right. Maybe you’ll do better next time.”
A growl was his response, and she offered him a smile. This was not what he’d expected when he came in. Too bad for him, if you played with toys that were already broken, you didn't get the fun of breaking them yourself.
“Are we going to do introductions, explanations maybe?” she prompted. Rose had no time for this silliness. The man had to get to the point and tell her what he wanted from her. Once she knew, she could start figuring out a way to try to get herself out of here or die trying.
“You're not what I was expecting,” he grumbled.
“Yeah, well suck it up, because you weren't how I was expecting my day to go either.”
Another growl, and he took what Rose assumed was supposed to be an intimidating step toward her. If she hadn't spent her entire life being intimidated, it would probably work too. Not only was he huge, but he had an air of danger about him that she was just too experienced to worry about.
This man could torture her, but it wouldn't be anything she hadn't survived before. He could kill her if he wanted, but at least then there would be no chance anyone else could ever hurt her, so she couldn’t be too angry about that.
“You have something that I want,” the man snarled. There was a tiny tremor in his voice as he said that, and she knew whatever he was after was personal to him.
“I really doubt that. I don’t get out much, and my job is as a romance book editor.” She actually laughed because he was beating around the bush, like this was some sort of game when it was clear it was anything but. Men. They were dramatic, and they had the gall to claim that women were the more emotional sex.
Her laughter set him off, and he moved quicker than she’d been expecting.
His hand clamped around her neck, dragging her to her feet and shoving her up against the wall so her toes barely touched the floor. The grip was tight enough to make it difficult to breathe, but not enough to cut off her air supply. She was guessing he also wouldn't like it if she told him she knew he was holding back, taking care to not actually hurt her.
