Page 12 of Stalked

He drops his hand from my face, biting his cheek. Nodding his head, he doesn’t say anything, just reaches for the door.

“Are you at least going to tell me where we are!” I yell at the back of his stupid head.

“In my home,” he says, barely sparing me a second glance.

“Oh yes, thank you, glad we cleared that up.” I hiss through my teeth. I thought dealing with Zion was a bitch and a half. No, this suit fucker brings short answers to a whole new meaning. “Care to explain where exactly yourhomeis?” I ask, tightening my jaw only to let go a second later when the pain shoots through my neck.

“Not really.” He shrugs, fucking shrugs like it’s no big deal, now that I’m realizing I’m inside a stranger’s house.

“Well, I care, so tell me.”

He seems to think about it for a minute before finally looking back at me. I’m hopeful he’s going to tell me, only to quickly die when he says, “I can’t tell you.”

“What the hell do you mean you... You can’t tell me? What does that mean?” My voice rises, irritation clawing at my throat. How dare he? Even if he is hot, and so fucking sexy standing there. He has absolutely no right.

A sharp knock on the door stops Tobias from answering, not that he was going to tell me anyhow. “Come in,” he says instead, earning a glare from me.

“Pakhan Dmitriy, razgovarivayet po telefonu,” someone says into the barely opened door. Angry one mutters something in the samelanguage before the door is closed, and he's looking back at me.Down boy, he’s not looking at you,I tell my cock, because the way he’s perking up, might as well call me a cum slut. I bite my lip instantly, trying to hold my groan in but it’s too late.

“Gabriel…” Tobias mumbles, running his hand down his face. “Did you just–”

“We’re not talking about it. I don’t even know your name, and you haven’t answered me where we are.Andddddd,before you say ‘my house’” I say trying to drop my voice down to match his and failing, “I’m talking about what state, how long have I been out? All the questions. You know I have a sister that’s going to wonder where I’m at if I don’t answer her million questions she texts me,” I huff, ignoring the gaze of my kidnapper.

Suddenly his hand is wrapped around my throat, our noses an inch apart. “You’d be mindful of how you speak to me. I don’t take kindly to–”

“I don’t do well when people raise their voices at me or when they’re mad at me. Especially men.” I have no idea where that came from, but I felt like it needed to be said. And from the conflict echoing around the suit man’s face, I’m not sure how he’s taking it either.

Nodding his head he whispers, “I’ll be mindful of your needs.” Brushing his thumb across my lips, I have all of two seconds before he’s backing out of the room and closing the door softly behind him.

I might have been kidnapped, but that didn’t mean I was just going to sit around and be a sucker in bed. Suit man can just go straight to hell; he had no reason to take me. However, I’m grateful because, from the little memory that Idohave, the suit man ended up saving me from Billy.

I shiver from the thought of Billy, the way he so easily beat the shit out of me. Just because he thought I told the suit man where he was. I had no idea where Billy was, nor did I care. The moment I found him cheating on me, he was forgotten, or rather I wanted to forget about him.

Tossing the blanket off me the best I can with a bruised and broken body, I ignore my surroundings, heading straight to the bathroom across the bed. I might be able to feel the wreckage of my body, but I needed to see it. I needed to see what Billy had done and what the suit man had seen.

Flicking the light on, I’m blinded for a moment from the fluorescent lighting. When they finally adjust, I’m shocked at what I see. I sigh. My left eye is swollen and heavily bruised, and my nose must have been broken. There are deep purple and black bruises riding along my nose down my right cheek. My forehead even has a damn bruise. Dry blood coats my hairline. Some of it appears to have been wiped from my hair. Though I’m no longer blond in some areas, I’m a damn redhead. Along with a bird’s nest that rests on top of my head.

Taking a deep breath, I shuck off my clothes, ignoring the fact that I wasn’t wearing these sweatpants or the gray shirt when I was attacked. My eyes zero in on the colorful scattered bruises across my ribs, and stomach. Fuck, Billy really did a number on me. And worst of all, the clear outline of his fucking boot is now imprinted on my damn shoulder.

Gritting my teeth, I narrow my eyes in the mirror. Fuck Billy. Fuck suit man and fuck this fucked up shit.

Breaking my stare, I turn towards the shower, lukewarm. I’ll never understand women and their hot showers. I’ve seen how red Izel’s face is after her shower—a tomato. It’s so red, I’m surprised she hasn’t actually burned her skin.

By the time I’m done washing and putting the clothes that aredefinitelynot mine on, my body is exhausted. Opening the bathroom door, I finally take in the room. Dark gray walls and for the most part the room is kind of depressing. To the left of the bed are French windows, black curtains pulled back letting in the sunlight. Unfortunately, nothing else besides the bed, side tables, and dresser.

Sighing, I glance at the door suit man left from, debating on if I should risk walking out. Maybe no one will be on the other side. Or there could be a whole cavalry outside ready to murder me.

Suddenly the door opens. I tense, realizing that’s exactly what could happen. Only it’s not a team here to kill me. Instead, an older woman steps in holding a tray of some sort.

“Oh…uh, hello.” She smiles up at me.

My mouth waters when I zero in on the tall glass of I’m assuming orange juice.

“Hello, not to be rude. But is that orange juice?” I ask, stepping forward, twisting my fingers together.

“Uh, yes, sir,” she shyly says.

“No need to say, sir,” I say, waving her off. “But if you don’t mind, I would love that juice. I’m thirsty and, oh shit is that pancakes?” I nearly moan at the sight, my stomach growling on cue.

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