“Don’t take too long,” I said and hung up.
I glanced in the direction of the bathroom, then turned back to my computer. But I couldn’t concentrate. I wanted to check on her.
After spending another ten minutes getting exactly zero done, I got up.
The bathroom was quiet. I knocked on the door. “Freya? You all right in there?”
I didn’t receive a response and pressed my ear against the door. An earth-shattering snore rang through the wood.
Despite telling myself not to, I picked the bathroom lock and went inside.
She was passed out in the bathtub, her snores echoing through the small room.
Not thinking twice about it, I bent down and lifted her into my arms. The feel of her slight body so close to mine almost shattered the stranglehold I had on my control. I carried her to one of the beds, placing her on the comforter before reluctantly letting go of her.
Her mass of thick hair spilled all over the pillow, and I fought the urge to touch it.
She didn’t so much as stir the whole time. Not when I took her shoes off and not when I pulled the blankets out from under her and covered her up.
A beep from my phone alerted me to someone outside the front door. A glance at the camera feed showed a grinning Carter, a cage and bags sitting next to him.
I disarmed the alarm and opened the door. “Not a word. Just get inside.”
He picked up the cage and stepped through the door. After glancing up and down the quiet street, I grabbed the bags and closed and armed the door again.
“She still in the bathroom?” Carter asked, opening the fridge and frowning at its contents.
“Nah, she’s sleeping in the bedroom.”
Carter had set the cage on the table, and I eyed the fluffy rat that seemed entirely unperturbed at his change of scenery, munching on a lettuce leaf.
“You need some pointers on how to talk to women? I mean, since I’m already here and all.” I glared at him, and he smirked. “If you change your mind, I’m only a phone call away.”
When I didn’t respond, he saluted me and walked out. He’d known me long enough to realize when a swift retreat was the best option.
I followed him outside, and after he drove off, I made sure to secure the house again. We would be fine here for a little while, until I could figure out how to get Freya safely out of Ferguson.
Chapter7
Freya
I woke slowly,feeling nice and warm under soft blankets. I burrowed into my pillow, inhaling the clean laundry-detergent scent. And stiffened, since the smell was unfamiliar.
Then it all came crashing back to me. The failed kidnapping. Rambo charging in and taking me to his supposed safe house. But I also remembered falling asleep in the bathtub. So how was I in a bed?
My growling stomach reminded me that I hadn’t had dinner the night before. And since nobody could plot a successful escape on an empty stomach, I left my room in search of food.
As soon as I stepped foot outside where I’d been sleeping, I noticed a grunting noise, followed by a thud and then the clinking of chains.
Following the sound, I tiptoed down the hallway to the last room on the right. The door was half-open, and I pushed it a little farther to be able to look inside.
I was greeted with a sweaty Gunner who was furiously punching a big boxing bag. My mouth went dry, and my eyes greedily drank in his bare upper chest, glistening with sweat. He was a sculpted work of art, almost looking photoshopped, his cutoff sweatpants hanging low on his hips.
If anyone had asked me when I first met Gunner what I liked best about him, I would have said his eyes. Despite his expressionless face, his eyes held all the emotions. Once you knew where to look, you could read him like an open book.
“Your rat is in the kitchen, and the guys got you some food,” he said, not stopping his assault on the bag.
A smile so big I thought I’d get a cramp overtook my face. Gunner’s eyes locked on my mouth and he went still, his workout forgotten. Since he didn’t stop the bag when he turned into a statue, it hit him right in the face, making him stumble back.
