Page 28 of Cry, Little Dove

“You’ve lost your last marbles if you think I’m going to marry you, Cain! I’ve known you for a few days, most of which I wasunconscious!”

“So?” he asks with the most infuriating calm in his tone. “I know this ain’t exactly the standard procedure for a healthy relationship, but I gave up on that when I kidnapped you. Besides, the adrenaline speeds up the process of getting closer. It’s a natural chemical reaction in the brain. That’s why many men suggest something exciting like a horror movie or a rollercoaster ride for the first date.”

I slap the counter. “I’m yourcaptive. We don’t have arelationship!”

“Not yet. But you will love me, Erica. Once you get to know me, I’m not so bad.”

“I will never love you.”

“You’ll love me and live freely by my side or you’ll die, little dove. Your choice.” He reaches into his pocket. “Speaking of freedom…” He puts something onto the counter, and my eyes widen.

“My phone!” I squeal, grabbing it.

“I charged it, put in a leftover sim card from my family plan, and connected you to the Wi-Fi. I saved my number in your contacts, too.”

What am I supposed to say to that? I hope he didn’t snoop too much and that he didn’t find my embarrassing, sexually charged bucket list. That note is manually password-locked though, so I should be safe.

“Thanks, I guess?” I pause, squinting at his smiling face. “You know I could call the police with this and tell them about your organ harvesting and kidnapping deal?”

“You could.”

“I could also ask them to send a patrol right away to arrest you.”

His chin dips in confirmation. “Absolutely.”

“If they see your perverted lair in the basement, you’re getting the death penalty faster than you can spell, uh… spleen!”

“That’s not a very long or very difficult word, but I see your point,” he says.

This is too good to be true. The breath rushes from my lungs and I leave the phone on the counter. Cain is a sadist and an asshole, but he’s not stupid. Far from it. I suspect that an intelligent, razor-sharp mind hides behind his casual demeanor and charming drawl.

“What’s the catch?” I ask.

He chugs the rest of his soda. With a mocking frown, he swirls the ice around in the glass, making me listen to the annoying clinking until he finally puts it down.

“Call the cops all you want. They won’t believe you.”

My scoff comes out as a shout. “Okay, I’ll humor you for a second. Whywouldn’t they believe me?”

“Glad you asked,” he says, his tone giddy as if he’s been waiting for this moment. “Stay here. Don’t try to run, darlin’. You might be feeling okay, but you’re still weakened from the drugs. You wouldn’t get far.”

My nails score my palms as his steps grow distant, his boots thudding like he’s jumping up the stairs two steps at a time. He returns in less than a minute.

He’s right, I wouldn’t have had a chance to get far. And where the fuck would I go with no money, no friends, and no car?

Cain throws a brown folder onto the kitchen island. “There you go. I made copies for you in advance. Reckoned you ain’t gonna believe me unless you see the papers with your own eyes. The originals are stored safely where you can’t reach ‘em.”

I don’t remember carrying any documents in my bag. My gaze darts from the folder to Cain and back to the folder. With trembling fingers, I open it.

What. The. Fuck.

Medical files.Mymedical files, listing some minor health concerns I had in the past. A broken arm from when I fell out of a tree as a kid, a sprained ankle from when I slipped in a puddle in the kitchen at work, migraines, but—

“This part is all wrong,” I say, tapping the paper. “I don’t have any of those things. Delusions, paranoia, bouts of violent aggression. And I don’t take any of those medications either. Are you trying to blackmail me? Because if you are, you’re stupider than I thought. This isn’t my file.”

He grins. “It is now.”

My stomach churns with dread. “But it’s wrong, this—”

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