Page 9 of One Forbidden Moment

Chapter 4

Jillian

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Jillian woke with ajolt when the warmth left her hand.Her eyes flew open, heart hammering, breath catching in her throat.For a second, she didn't know where she was.The dim room masked the truth from her.

Then she saw him, and everything came rushing back, overwhelming her.

Her kidnapper was called Moe.That's what the man in the restaurant had called him.She was determined to remember every detail in case she escaped.

He stood beside the bed, straightening to his full height.His hair fell around his shoulders in waves, his tattoos stark against his forearms.He looked even bigger in the morning light, even more dangerous.

She rubbed her palm.He'd held her hand.All night.

She scrambled back, wiping her palm on her hip like she could erase the warmth he'd left behind.Her skin tingled where he'd touched her, a phantom heat she didn't want.

"Get up."He motioned."You need to eat breakfast.I gotta go to work."

Work?Nothing about him looked like he belonged in a place with rules or schedules or clocks.But he said it like it was normal.Like dragging a girl into a strange town and sleeping beside her with his hand wrapped around hers all night was just another part of his day.

She pushed herself upright, her muscles stiff, her throat tight."I...I have to go home," she whispered."I work too.I have a job.They'll notice if I don't show up."

That was a lie.They wouldn't notice.Not until Monday.And even then, they'd just assume she quit.There was a high turnover rate at the nursing home.It wasn't an easy job to care for those who were dying.

It was depressing and sad.Most days she walked back to the house wondering if life was one misery after another and then you die.The other days she spent telling herself that she didn't know anything about life.

She wasn't even old enough to drink alcohol.Yet, she was pushed into a position of taking care of herself and her mom.She had no idea if she was failing or who to ask for help.

She kept the truth about her mom locked behind her teeth.He didn't need to know.He didn't deserve to know.

Moe stared at her with those flat, dead, steel-colored eyes, as if he were trying to figure out which part of her mattered and which didn't.

"You're not going home," he said simply.

Her stomach dropped."Please."

"There's food in the kitchen.Eat," he cut in, turning away from her."Then we can talk once we get to work."

Talk?He wasn't giving her a chance to say anything.He held her hand all night like a shackle.It was impossible to run away.Even if she could, she spent the whole night afraid to move, afraid to breathe wrong, afraid he'd wake up and decide she wasn't worth keeping.

She swung her legs over the side of the bed, her bare feet hitting the cool floor.Her clothes were wrinkled from sleeping in them.Her hair was a tangled mess from the kidnapping, the ride, and going through the storm.Her eyes were swollen from crying and stung when she blinked.

Moe walked toward the kitchen, his steps heavy, unhurried.He didn't look back to see if she followed.He didn't need to.She wasn't stupid enough to run again.Not yet.Not when she didn't know where she was.Not when she didn't know what he'd do if she tried.

They were obviously somewhere near people.There was an older man at the restaurant.There had to be people who worked with Moe.A glimmer of hope that she could seek help grew inside her, waking her fully.

She stood slowly, her legs trembling, and followed him down the short hallway.He pointed toward the bathroom.She slipped inside and hurried to pee and wash her hands and face.Ignoring the sad sight in the mirror, she walked out and joined Moe in the kitchen.

He stopped at the counter, pulling out a pan and the loaf of bread she'd seen him find last night.He cracked eggs into a bowl, the sound sharp in the silence.