He smirks. "Hunger is a powerful motivator isn't it."
He walks around behind me, and I shiver when I feel his hands on my skin as he undoes the binds to my other arm. He gives me a long look as if weighing the possibility of me running again before he steps back to his side of the counter. He passes me an orange.
"Here. You want some more coffee?"
I nod as I tear the skin off the fruit and inhale it.
"How about waffles? You want some waffles? I could make you a three egg omelet and some bacon? Maybe a benedict?"
I whip my head to stare at him, only to see him grinning.
"Asshole."
He grins.
"So, um," I clear my throat. "What's going to happen to me?"
I almost don't want to ask it, as if saying it will remind him what a liability I am. But it comes tumbling out anyways.
"Don't worry about it."
Right.
"Well, how long are you going to keep me here?"
"You ask a lot of questions."
I glare at him. "Oh, sorry, am I not following the right kidnapping protocol?"
He gives me a look.
"You know, ‘cause I'm sure you do this all the fucking time but this is a little new to me."
His brow arches at my outburst, and his mouth goes tight as if he's mulling it over.
"A little while."
"Why."
"Jesus," he swears.
"Look I'm just saying, what are you going to do? Keep me here forever?"
The second I say it, I wish I hadn't.
"No, because I actually enjoy sleeping in my own bed."
He reaches across the counter and pours more coffee in my cup.
"What."
I look up to see him looking at me curiously.
"Nothing."
"You had a look."
"It's nothing."
"Speak. What were you thinking."
I bite my lip as I glance back at him. "I was thinking that you're being awfully nice for a kidnapping, murdering psychopath."
He chuckles. "Psychopath?"
I notice he doesn't contradict the other two parts to that description, and I swallow a quick sip of coffee.
"Thank you," I mumble. "I'm honestly a bitch without coffee in the morning."
"Oh, is that what I've been dealing with? Shit, who knew all I needed was coffee?"
I glare at him. "Look, I wasn't bluffing before. People will be looking for me."
He gets up and wordlessly walks past me into the living room area. He comes back a second later with my purse in his hands.
"Here's how this is going to work," he says evenly. "You're going to make one phone call. You're going to call a family member, or a friend, and you're going to tell them you're taking a little vacation - some ‘me' time. All right?"
The funny thing is, it's not even that far from something I would do.
He gives me a sharp look. "No coded messages, no flying off the handle and yelling for help. Trust me when I say help will not get to you in time."
I shiver.
"And no fucking languages besides English, please?"
"Worried you'll miss the good parts?"
"I mean so you don't embarrass yourself with trying to sneak a coded message through. Trust me, I speak more of them than you'd think."
"I find that hard to believe."
"You're welcome to test me."
I purse my lips. "So what do you speak? Neanderthal and frat-boy?"
He arches a brow at me as he slides the phone across the counter.
"What, I'm sorry, should I have assumed the guy who kidnaps girls from bars and shoots people is some sort of scholar?"
I turn my phone on to find one string of texts, from Jayson.
You crazy fucking cunt. We're pressing charges you psycho whore.
Fuck you, you crazy bitch. Expect a call from our lawyer.
I hope you get cancer.
I blink, putting the phone down.
Well then.
But that's it. No other texts, no voicemails, nothing from my family out on vacation. I mean, I know it's been, like, twelve hours but still.
There's a chuckle behind me, and I whirl to see him grinning as his eyes glance up from my phone.
"Oh, loads of friends and family," he says in a sing-songy voice that I assume is supposed to be me.
"Shut up."
I end up calling Stella, even though I know from the time she's probably dropping my nephew Carter off at daycare before her nursing shift at the hospital.
It goes straight to voicemail, kind of like I imagined.
"Hey, it's me," I sigh, feeling Connor's eyes on me.
"Just wanted to let you know I'm going to be off the grid for … " I trail off and glance back at him.
"A few days," he mouths.
"A few days."
I shiver.
"I just gotta go clear my head. Some shit went down with Jayson-"
Suddenly, I realize I'm making the phone call I should have made last night.
"Things got really bad with Jayson, and I- I fucked up pretty bad, Stell, and I just need a little me time."
It's not even that I'm following his script, it's just seriously the exact words I'd use.
"So, call whenever, but I might not be picking up. You can pass this along to Mom and Dad, and Ivy and Silas, and Kyle and Viv, and Rowan and Eva if you want. Okay, thanks. Bye."
I hang up, and he takes the phone back.
"Did you want to thank the academy too?"
I level a look at him.
"I mean Jesus, anyone else you needed to pass that along to?"
"I have a big family."
"Apparently." A smile teases the corners of his lips. "So who's Jayson."
"My boyf-" I shake my head. I almost want to lie, but why bother. "My ex-boyfriend."
"Your ex-boyfriend the reason you kissed me last night?"
I keep my mouth shut. He just gives me a look as he turns to grab some more coffee.
"I have to use the bathroom."
He turns, raising a brow at me.
I sigh. "It's not a ploy, I really do have to go. Unless you want this nice kitchen stool all wet."
"Easy," he grumbles, coming around behind me again. He undoes the loop keeping me on the chair and steps away as I go to stand.
I stumble, my legs still wobbly from the night before, and I gasp as he darts forward. He catches me, his strong arms yanking me up and against him as my heart leaps into my throat.
"Here we go."
He leads me to the bathroom and opens the door.
It's just like when I first saw the rest of the loft. Because I feel like a criminal like him should have this total shithole of an apartment, with some cruddy, utterly disgusting bathroom to boot.
Not the case.
The bathroom is pristine, and elegantly masculine - all dark tiles and silver finishes, a huge, porcelain tub to one side and a separate shower stall next to it.
This entire place would go for millions in downtown Boston. But out here in the no-man's-land of the warehouse district, not so much I guess.
Maybe you have to be a murdering kidnapper to live out here.
"In you go."
I pad into the bathroom and turn, but his hand is on the door.
"Are you serious?"
"You really think I'm going to let you put a closed, lockable door between you and me?"
"I have to pee."
"I gathered that. Go ahead."
I stare at him. "I'm not going to with you watching me."
"Suit yourself."
"I can't."
"You were all set to pee on my kitchen stool a second ago."
My face burns as I stare at him. "You have got to be fucking kidding me."
"I'll look away, but this door is staying open."
I ball my hands into fists, planting myself in front of him.
"Tick tock, princess."
I groan, my face going bright red. "You are such an asshole."
"Sticks and stones, sweetheart."
He turns away, his muscled arm reaching out behind him and holding the door open. I glance at him once more, gritting my teeth and groaning before I shuffle to the toilet. I slip my panties down to my knees and squat.
Nothing.
I have to pee like crazy, but I'm sure as hell not going to with him just standing there.
I tense up, trying, but nothing happens.
"You need me to run some water or something?"
I glare at the back of his head.
"I could play some rain sounds on the stereo syst-"
"Look could you maybe just not talk?"
He chuckles.
Still nothing.
"Tinkle tinkle, little star."
"Oh my God will you please shut up?! Can you just cover your ears or something?"
Connor laughs, tilting one ear against a shoulder and covering the other with his free hand.
I'm sure he's still listening, but it helps, and finally - mercifully - I can pee.
I wipe and pull my panties back up when I'm done. Hungover me eyes his gorgeous tub and shower, wishing like crazy I could get cleaned up. I wash my hands, eyeing the way everything is so perfectly neat, organized, and aligned. Hell, his toothbrush is at a right freaking angle, for God's sake.
I wonder again about the probability of him having a plastic-lined kill room.
"There we go, just like a big girl."
I glare at his smug face in the mirror. "Are you this much of a prick to all the girls you kidnap and tie up?"
"Only my favorite ones."
We spend the rest of the afternoon in mostly silence, me sitting on his bed reading the book from my bag, and him off to the other side of the loft. Periodically, I can feel him looking at me, making me shiver, but I ignore it.
I ignore that, and the fact that even now, even as his prisoner, I can't stop thinking about the feel of his lips on mine. Or his hands on me.