Which is looking slim, considering the handsome man who caught me on the dock is pacing back and forth enough to wear holes in his designer shoes. Yet his strides are controlled as he twirls a knife in his bloody fingers like it’s a typical night.
For him, it probably is.
As I said, I should run. But he said if I obey him, my blood won't blend with the scarlet already caked on his hands.
Oh, God.
Why am I considering that this psychopath will let me live after I saw him plunge his knife into the side of this poor man’s stomach? It was foolish to pray that the window I was observing through was one-sided.
Chances are, he’s going to kill me anyway, and my heart or single kidney is going to end up in some stranger who doesn’t give a damn about my life that was perfectly intact when it was taken from me.
Images of my family flash before my eyes. My beautiful, loving parents and sister, Natalie, who have done everything to help me escape the horrific situation I found myself in when it was obvious that law enforcement couldn’t be bothered. I guess that’s what happens when you live in the biggest city in the state, and there are more pressing matters to deal with than a boyfriend carving her girlfriend like a turkey at Thanksgiving. Restraining order or not, it hasn’t mattered. Not even proof of the scars lacerating my stomach could entice them to take action.
“We don’t have enough evidence to press charges,” they said.
Bull. Fucking. Shit.
Running away was the last resort. Sometimes it still feels like I’m watching my life with an imaginary bag of popcorn and a glass of wine while I try to yell at myself about how stupid I am that I didn’t do something when I first saw the signs.
Every day is another day my family could be in danger for maintaining silence about my whereabouts. But it's become clear that Xander’s hunt for me scratches his urge for entertainment. He hasn’t contacted them yet, but that doesn’t mean he won't.
What happens when I’ve evaded him so long that my family becomes the only place left to look for answers?
To find me?
The last time I contacted them was over six months ago. I rummage through my mental boxes, trying to remember if I even said those three words to them that I’ve said absentmindedly so many times.
I love you.
Words that usually come so naturally, but it's not until something like this happens that I realize how much weight they hold.
I should’ve said it more—intertwined more meaning and love into them the way they deserve.
He pauses, walking toward me to brace his hands on the arms of the chair, caging me in. He peers into my glazed eyes that are still shedding tears. There clearly isn’t an ounce of compassion in those entrancing bourbon eyes that burn with a fire that could scorch anyone who draws near.
They’re a warning.
“Is he…dead?” I force the words out shakily as they slice through the eerily silent room.
He tilts his head, studying me with a stare that makes me feel like a microbe under his scope. “His pain is so excruciating that he is in and out of consciousness. He didn’t answer my questions.” His stern tone adds extra force to that last comment.
My poor heart shudders behind my ribs. “I come from a medical background. It would be a miracle if he survives those, even if he does answer you.”
Deadpan, he says, “I’m not planning on letting him live, darling.”
No. No. No!Is this what might await me?
My hands shake, so I clasp them in my lap tightly. “And if I do…answer your questions, you’ll let me live?”
His head wobbles side to side. “Not sure yet. You’ve put me in quite the predicament.” A tremor racks through my body, and his lips tilt just slightly enough that my body doesn’t seem to agree with my head about how we feel about this man.
He’s alluring in the worst way.
“But I can promise you that this will go a lot easier if you tell me what I want to know. Starting with why you were on my dock the other day,” he tsks. The tendons in his hands strain as he grips the arms of the chair forcefully.
He’s so close, we’re breathing the same air.
Even over the metallic stench of carnage permeating the space, his masculine and smoky scent glides into my lungs as they rapidly inflate and deflate.
