Page 109 of Love is Angry

I don’t like his way of avoiding a concrete answer. He doesn’t want me keeping track of time, that much is obvious. “Do you want to keep me dazed and confused?” I ask.

“Not really. I’m just gauging you, trying to get a feel for your limits.” He answers like there’s normalcy in what he’s doing; like this is some kind of everyday routine. That scares me.Hescares me.

He puts water in the kettle and coffee in a French press. I watch him like a hawk, my eyes darting everywhere around him, searching for solutions and possible means of escape.

I have no intention of spending more time in his company than I have to. Everything about Jake screams danger, and until I have a clear understanding of his intentions, I’m assuming I’m fucked unless I get out.

“Why am I here, Jake?”

“Well, it’s a little complicated. I never wanted things to get here, but your choices last night put me in a difficult position,” he says. A minute goes by in heavy, impossibly tense silence as I watch him brew coffee and pour some into a mug. “Milk?”

“Yeah. No sugar, thanks.”

He smiles. “What about the lavender honey? It smells amazing.”

“Can I eat?”

“Sure! I’ll save this for breakfast, then,” he says and gingerly sets the honey jar aside. “I’m gonna tie your hands in front,” Jake says as he comes back into the living room and sets my coffee on the table. He makes a point of showing me the gun in his holster. “Don’t do anything stupid. Believe me, it’s in your best interest to be nice to me.”

He doesn’t need to tell me twice. Besides, I’ve got a better shot at doing something with my hands tied at the front. “Thank you,” I reply, watching him. My shoulders nearly pop when he cuts the zip-tie off. “Fuck… Hurts…”

“Sorry, Madison,” he whispers, yet he mercilessly pulls my hands to the front and zip-ties them again, tight enough to make it clear I can’t get out of them.

I remember watching a TikTok video once with a girl showing people how to escape a zip-tie. It’s a shame I didn’t pay more attention to it back then because I don’t remember much of it, now. Then again, I’m not kidnapping victim material. This doesn’t make much sense.

“There we go. All done. Here’s your coffee,” Jake says and hands me the mug.

I hold it with both hands, given the circumstances, and take a long whiff. It makes him chuckle, as if I’m doing something ridiculous.

“Relax, it’s not poisoned,” he sighs.

I take a long sip, my gaze locked on his. “What do you want, then? Why am I here?”

“What I want is to not kill you, Madison—why you’re here, is for me to kill you.”

My blood runs cold as I try to understand what he just said. Jake seems bright, but he’s not good with cryptic talk. He sits on the sofa and places his gun on the coffee table between us. “I… I don’t follow…”

“Julian Echeveria wants you dead. I have twenty-four hours to complete this assignment,” Jakes says, matter-of-factly. “But the truth is, I don’t want to do this. I don’t think it’s right. So, I need you to convince me not to kill you. I need you to give me one good reason as to why this world will be better with you in it, in a manner that benefits me, personally. Don’t give me the whole story about what dreams you have and whatnot, I am well aware of how undervalued anthropologists are, so no need for that particular speech. I need to know why it’ll be good formeto let you live.”

“What?”

He shakes his head slowly. “I think you need to finish that coffee before you start using your brain. Don’t worry, I’m not in a rush. Twenty-four hours is more than enough, surely, for a girl with your smarts. Anyway!” He gets up and heads back into the kitchen. “Breakfast time. How do eggs and bacon sound?”

Like it could very well be my last meal.

I feel tears coming up, the horror of my mortality creeping down my spine. No matter what, I cannot let this man feed on my weakness or my misery. Julian got the worst of me, already, anyway. That I’m being held against my will––that I’m going to fucking die in twenty-four hours––I don’t even think it’ll be the worst. No, the rape was the worst.

Right now, the odds aren’t in my favor, but if Jake is genuine in his offer, I might be able to turn them. I need a plan. He’s right that I need more coffee, too, so I take a healthy swig. I need a functioning brain. Calm. A methodical approach.

I might die in a day.

And I’m the only one who can stop it, because I doubt anyone could trace me out to these woods. Jake is some kind of professional hitman. He knows what he’s doing. I have to get on top of this before I end up six feet under it.

Chapter 48

Rhue

The same cop is sitting at the desk when I rush into the station. It’s a cold, grey morning and I haven’t slept once. Laura’s been brainwashed, Steve is on dad’s side, Madison’s gone and I’m—frantic.

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