Page 44 of Text Me, Take Me

I grab Rafe’s shirt and shove him against the wall. “Mention my father again, and we’re going to have a problem.”

Fear flickers into Rafe’s eyes, and then a slow smile spreads across his lips. “Ah, there he is, the Dom I remember.”

I let him go, disgusted.Sorry, I almost say, but the words won’t form.

“It’s time to tool up and head out.”

“I’m assuming, despite this Good Samaritan routine, if The Vultures shoot at us, we’re allowed to shoot back?”

CHAPTER 16

EVIE

Ilose myself in my work for a time.A time… because when I get into a flow like this, minutes and hours cease to matter. There’s just me and my craft. I only stop when I realize my thoughts are dancing away into tempting fantasies that amount to betrayals.

I imagine Dom walking in here–a different life, one that didn’t start with a kidnapping. He brings me a coffee and gently kisses me on the cheek. The scene has a husband-wife air that causes a smile to spread across and stick to my face.

Pushing away from the bench, I take off my goggles and run my hand over my engraved name one more time.

“Meatball?” I call, standing and stretching my arms over my head.

He’s nowhere in sight. I leave the studio, walking through one of the terraced gardens, calling his name. All around me, Topanga Canyon stretches out, desolate, isolated, a reminder of how fruitless running would be…

Or would it? My search takes me past the infinity pool, through another garden, and to the edge of the property where the walls reach up at least ten feet. There’s no obvious way to climb them and, if I did, no clear path to drop to the other side without hurting myself.

But Dom left hours ago, and I haven’t even searched for a landline phone, a laptop with an internet connection, anything. Who would I contact if I found one of these, though? I can’t call or message Tasha. She’s with Dom’s friend… unless he lied to me, which I somehow know he didn’t.

I trust my kidnapper. That’s a problem. One I feel less and less willing to fix as time goes on.

As I approach the front of the house, I hear a meow from above me. Looking up, I spot Meatball curled up in a cat tree built into the side of the house. Steps scale around the house, leading to more cat trees.

“He built all this for you, huh?”

Meatball meows contentedly, stretching and then walking along the steps gracefully, before climbing down and rubbing his body against my leg.

“Are you hungry?” I ask.

Meatball follows me into the large house. The entranceway is bigger than mine and Tash’s apartment. On the wall, there’s a photo of a younger Dom in military gear, the background of a desert. He’s got his arm over another man, both of them with wild beards, and more men smile in the background.

“This must be his SEAL team,” I murmur. “He lost all of these men, Meatball. All his buddies. And they tried to bury himwith them. I wonder if part of him would’ve preferred if that happened so he didn’t have to live with the survivor's guilt.”

Meatball groans.

“You’re right. I’m getting too gloomy.”

But I can’t take my eyes away from the photo for a long time, thinking about the pain he must’ve endured. It’s not helpful to my situation. I’m becoming complacent. The week apart was supposed to harden me against this confusingly complex man, but it made me want him more.

I walk toward the large kitchen. “He could’ve researched The Thornbound Oath book series before he bought me those first editions. He could’ve learned they were about a woman who finally accepts she has feelings for her captor. Or maybe that’s why he bought me that gift… to make me more like Kaelen Mirae.”

In the kitchen, I see someone removed the landline phone from the wall. No, someone didn’t remove it. He did.

I get Meatball some tuna and water, then start preparing a sandwich for myself.

My phone buzzes.

Dom: I’m heading out on a mission, Evie. I’ll be back this evening. This might be the end. If this goes well, you’ll be free. In the meantime, I’m going to give this cellphone to your friend Tasha, so that you can talk with her. She’ll call you in roughly an hour.

My throat grows tight as I read the word ‘mission’. Is it going to be dangerous? What if something happens to him? He won’t beable to return and set me free. Yeah, that’s the reason I’m scared, right? Not because I have feelings for him. Not because it’ll mean I’ll never taste his lips or feel his reassuring presence again.

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