Page 10 of Kept

“Woah! What the hell?”

I drag the ottoman forward and sit on it, directly facing her. From my pants pocket, I pull out a folding knife and flick the blade out. She looks panicked and tries to scoot away, but I’ve already grabbed the flex cuffs with my other hand.

“No—” She stops when I cut the plastic and it falls uselessly to the floor.

“To be clear, I own this entire building and everyone in it. If you run, you won’t even make it to the elevator. So sit. Stay.” I point to her current seat to reinforce the point.

As I walk into the bathroom, I hear a faint “woof” coming from the sofa. I smile but suppress a chuckle.

I return with the first aid bag and sit back in front of her. I unbuckle her shoes and toss them to the side. I pour some peroxide onto the gauze and start wiping off the dried blood until the wound is clean. I put a butterfly bandage over it and then wrap around her ankle with the roll of gauze.

She watches me, her expression more confused than anything else. I pack up the rest of the kit and gather my trash up and drop it in the kitchen garbage can. I get a bottle of water out of the fridge and then pour myself three fingers of whisky on the rocks. Sitting back down on the ottoman, I hold out the bottle of water to her. After a beat where she clearly mulled over her options, of which there were damned few, she takes it, carefully inspecting the seal before opening it.

“Thank you,” she whispers.

“You’re welcome.”

She finishes half the bottle of water while I study her. Her hair is pulled back into a remarkably tight bun, and her blue-grey eyes are surrounded by smudged black makeup, some of which has run down her cheeks with her tears. If she had lipstick, it’s gone now, leaving just her pink, plump lips. Her features are delicate, almost fragile.

Fuck.

“How old are you?” I blurt out.

“Twenty-two.” After a beat she adds, “I’m just small, not a child.”

I nod.

“Thank you.” She shakes her bandaged ankle for emphasis.

“Next time, try not to kick out my taillight.”

I watch her shiver at the reminder. “Alternatively, you could avoid stuffing me in the trunk.”

I smile. “I’ll take that under advisement.”

“Where am I?”

“My home.”

Her eyes flash. “Why?”

“Why do you think?”

She pales. “Are you going to kill me?”

“I’m certainly not going to kill you in my living room.”

CHAPTER 6

Sarah

He’s not going to kill me.

Correction, he’s not going to kill me right here.

I’m having trouble deciding if that makes me feel better or worse. What the hell have I gotten into?

I start to replay the night in my mind, trying to pinpoint the exact moment it all went to shit. It plays in slow motion, giving me time to agonize over my decisions up to this point. I remember coming around the corner, shoulder-to-shoulder with Robert. Seeing the man on his knees, then two men standing near him. The man currently sitting in front of me was holding a gun, the same gun that’s probably in the holster he’s still wearing right now. I hear Robert’s gasp. Thank God everything that man does is just a little feminine.

---