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I tried to maneuver out of his grasp, but he held my hips firmly. “Before.”
“Right. Who should I expect?”
“People. Lots of them.”
His expression tightened, and his eyes narrowed. “Good luck to you findin’ your way home and them findin’ their way here.”
I was about to ask why when he shifted, giving me a view of something other than his large frame.
But it was a view of basically nothing.
Fields stretched as far as I could see. Slowly turning in his hold, I saw an old building that looked like it’d once been a church, but other than that, more of the same nothingness.
“I’m persistent,” I muttered.
“Pick correctly, nearest town is more than fifteen miles away. Pick wrong, and…” He trailed off, lifting a shoulder.
He’s lying. I’ll just take off in a straight line and hope to reach something.
According to my not-so-expert source—TV crime dramas—twenty-four hours was when the likelihood of rescue dropped off significantly. Add to that, the whole don’t-go-to-a-second-location rule, and things were not looking good for me.
He’s wearing shitkickers.
I’m in comfortable slip-ons with good traction.
He’s in crazy-good shape—emphasis on the crazy—but that doesn’t mean he’s fast.
I have one year of JV track under my belt.
Maybe I can outrun him…
His grip tightened on my hips, his fingertips digging in. “Go ahead and run. I’ll have fun chasin’ and sure as fuck have fun catchin’.”
Helplessness.
The feeling sank heavy in my belly as my brain frantically tried to come up with an idea that wouldn’t get me lost, murdered, or worse.
“Didn’t you say you needed the bathroom?” he prodded. At my hesitation, he shrugged. “Piss in the field and climb back in the van if you want. Or there’s a clean bathroom, a shit-ton of food, and a soft bed. Choice is yours.” I opened my mouth, but he cut me off and added, “The choice between the van and inside—nothing else.”
I was tempted to go with the field-van combo. I’d been camping before—including an unfortunate case of poison ivy on my butt after a poorly chosen emergency bathroom location—so it wouldn’t be the first time I’d peed outdoors.
But I couldn’t deal with the enclosed space of the van. Just the thought of it tightened my chest and even the vast expanse of nothing felt suffocating. If I tried to go back in, I’d likely pass out from claustrophobia.
Damned if I do, damned if I pass out and am left vulnerable.
Not trusting myself to speak without screaming ineffective and counterintuitive insults, I reluctantly nodded.
Psycho eyed me for a minute, his lips pulled down in an unexpected scowl, leaving me feeling as though I’d picked the wrong option.
It’s not too late to make a run for it.
His expression smoothed out and he used his hold to lift me.
“I already said I’d go inside. Let me down!” I shouted, wiggling around.
“Just so you don’t get any ideas about runnin’.” His long strides ate up the distance until we were up the stairs and inside the old building. The sound of the heavy door closing echoed ominously around us.
When he set me on my feet, he again kept hold of my hips. That time, though, he released me as soon as I was steady and turned away.
