“Nothing wrong with a bit of wishful thinking.” He heads off to serve himself a plate so he can sit and eat with the rest of the crew, but I pluck up two plates, making them identical.
It’s a chicken roast tonight, with meat, vegetables and roasted potatoes, a thick gravy to tie it all together poured over the top. When it’s all served, I head for the exit so I can sit and eat with Elena.
Just like every night so far, she’s nowhere to be seen until she smells the food wafting in from the kitchen. It’s a lure she cannot resist, and quite honestly I like feeding her. As I pull the glasses from the cupboard, she emerges, chasing the smell of good food and a stiff drink.
Her hair is wet and pulled across one shoulder, leaving a wet patch on her white t-shirt, and she’s in a little pair of shorts, her thigh now free of bandages. The bruising is darkening by the day, but the wound itself is healing, as slow as it might be. Her grey eyes meet mine, and I jerk my chin to her plate, the drink by the side.
Her steps are silent as she goes, lowering herself into the chair without a word, and she begins to eat. It’s the quietest I have seen her thus far, and I’m not sure I like it.
“How’s the pain?” I eventually ask.
She flicks her eyes up, looking at me from beneath her thick lashes, “Fine.”
Stubborn woman.
She finishes up her food and gets up, placing it in the sink before she wanders toward the knife block that barely ever gets used. I can’t stop watching, wondering what the fuck she could be doing. She pulls each knife out, presses her finger to the blade to check the sharpness before she decides on the biggest one, grasps it and begins to walk back to her room.
My fingers pinch the bridge of my nose.
Fucking train wreck.
CHAPTER 15
The knife is a good weight, and judging by the condition of the blade itself, it’s never been used for cooking. It’ll do just fine.
Brandishing it, I begin to walk back to my bedroom. I will not sit around and wait for my uncle’s men to find me. Today was a close call, and I know I’m not safe here. Not really.
Knox may have sent them away, convinced them he hadn’t seen me, but it’s only a matter of time before they come looking again. They won’t be satisfied until they find my body, and since I’m not dead, they will keep searching. Eventually, I’ll be found.
So, I’m sleeping with the knife.
“Elena,” Knox’s deep voice calls from behind me, and I can hear the exasperation layering the tone. I look over my shoulder, finding him with the bridge of his nose between his fingers. He then runs that meaty hand down his face, smoothing it over the thick hair of his beard. “What the fuck are you doing?”
He looks at the knife pointedly.
I blink slowly. How has he not caught on after what happened today? He really thinks I’m not going to defend myself?
“I don’t have a weapon.” I point out since he took it from me.
He just stares at me.
“Listen, not sure about you, but I don’t particularly want to be murdered in my sleep.”
“No one is going to hurt you here.”
“You don’t know that,” I tell him. “They’ll keep coming back; they’ll keep looking. You’re upstairs in that big room of yours, and I can bet my ass you have a gun within reach just in case, while I’m down here, in easy reach of the front door.”
“A knife isn’t going to stop a bullet.”
“No, but it’s better than nothing.”
His blue eyes look behind me, to the slightly ajar door of my bedroom, and then he glances at the front door.
He releases a heavy sigh. “Would you bemore comfortable upstairs?”
“Yes,” I don’t lie.
“The other rooms upstairs aren’t set to take guests right now,” He gets up from the table and places his empty plate in the sink, “You can take my bed tonight and I’ll get the guys to help me move the bed from down here into one of the rooms tomorrow.”
