Page 16 of Too Cursed To Kiss
“I saidnow.” He picked me up, as if I were a discarded hoodie, throwing me over his shoulders fireman-style. My breath whooshed out, and he had one leg and arm pinned before I began to thrash, kicking and beating at his side with my one free gloved hand as he walked out of the bedroom.
“Let me the hell down. Where are you taking me?” I wriggled with no effect. I couldn’t even touch the bastard as he lumbered into a living area. The room was stark Scandinavian style. Still no knickknacks. The front door slid open as we approached. Beyond the front door was a concreteunderground parking garage. Only one car, a black sedan, which beeped as we got close.
“Let me go,” I yelled, thrashing ineffectively. The pop of the trunk chilled me to the core of what was left of my lily-black soul.
Wald dropped me into the velvet box like a sack of laundry. I kicked him, but he pushed my boot back in. He was not shutting me in this box again, but the gloves made it impossible to grip anything. He pushed me back, and when he tried to close the lid, I braced both feet on the lid.
He leaned over, and I coiled, ready to punch him, but he caught my arm. I yanked him to me, jamming an elbow into his chest. He released a breath into my face while I punched his chest with a bundled fist. Then he licked me chin-to-forehead with a flexible pink tongue that was part caramel sugar, even if it was mixed with tree bark and fur.
My limbs went limp. In dead shock, I was frozen, unable to move.
In that split second, he shoved me in and clicked the top shut. I screamed, knowing it was maddeningly futile. The car started and careened out of the garage, throwing me sharply to one side in a screech of tires.
The air in the box wasn’t stuffy, which meant there was an air intake. If air came in, there had to be a way out. First, the gloves were coming off. I bit at the muslin fabric using one against the other. Tearing my hand free of the padded cocoon with a rush of elation, I whooped, marveling at how my flexing fingers were working perfectly. No pain at all. Bizarre. I pulled the second glove off as the car swerved to one side, and the speed increased.
I methodically worked around the edges of the velvet ceiling, looking for holes while bracing my legs to keep me from sliding around. I found nothing. I couldn’t even tear thevelvet, like it was made of reinforced material. I’d explored the full backside of the velvet box when the car stopped.
Game On.
The car door opened and thudded closed. I imagined Wald walking around the car. Counting footsteps I couldn’t hear in my head, my heart raced as I imagined him coming closer. When the trunk should have opened, I held my breath, my muscles tensing for immediate launch.
The asshole didn’t open the trunk.
I hammered on the lid with my fists. “Let me the hell out,” I shouted, pressing on the velvet and hoping for a depression. It was smooth and hard. Then the trunk popped open.
“You sister-killing, sheep-brained bastard,” I said, half crawling, half jumping out as the light blinded me.
“Shush.” Wald’s voice was smooth as silk. I wanted to rip his throat out.
“That’s it. I’m done with this, with you, and whoever is hunting you down. Point me to a door. I’m going home.” I shielded my eyes from the glare of the overhead lights.
The ceiling was high, and the walls were concrete. Car parts were piled around high-tech machinery for fixing vehicles. Wald’s face was clear of blood and scratches. He pointed at a door with a smirk.
I strode across the garage on shaky legs. The floor was immaculate. No garage I’d ever been in was this clean. The massive roll-up doors were shut. The door Wald pointed to was solid stainless steel. I assumed it was the exit. On the panel to the left was a button. I smacked it, and the door slid open to reveal a long metal corridor.
Questions burned on my tongue, but getting out of here was more important. Wald hadn’t moved. I walked into the all-metal corridor and smacked the button on the wall. Thedoor slid shut. With one direction to go, which I hoped led to out-of-here, I clanged down the hall as if the hounds of hell were behind me.
The stainless-steel corridor came to a four-way intersection. The place was an underground hamster trail. Who the hell builds stainless corridors with no doors? I leaned on a wall, my muscles burning as I sucked in air. All the directions looked the same, but the floor of one hall was grimy. I followed the dirt. Fortunately for me, there were ventilation units at regular intervals in the ceiling. I came to another four-way. My heart pounded and the walls began to close in. Would I ever get out of here? I tore down the left hall with the icky floor and came to another crossing.
Goddamn it. I chose left again, and my heart jumped into my throat as I spotted a sliding door at the end. Yes. An exit. I ran the rest of the way and smacked the button next to the door. It slid open. Anything was better than these stainless corridors. I launched through it and skidded to a stop. There was a big black car right in front of me.
I was in the same damned room.
No. This was not happening.
I raced around the car looking for Wald, but I was utterly alone. There was only the garage door and the door I’d gone through. Fine then, getting out of here was the prime directive. Garage door it was.
I scanned the walls looking for a control. Not finding one, I opened the driver’s side of the car and hit the garage door buttons on the visor.
Nothing.
I slid into the seat, put my foot on the brake, and hit the start button.
Adrenaline kicked in as the engine roared to life. I shifted into reverse and gave it full gas.
The trunk crashed into the doors in a crunch of metal filling me with twisted satisfaction. The tires spun, burning rubber on concrete, but the now-dented doors didn’t budge. I threw the car into drive and pulled forward, then said a silent prayer and hit reverse at full speed, bracing for the impact. There was a bone-rattling bang, followed by whirring, then squealing tires. The door was dented but still hadn’t budged. I pulled forward to try again. With a fingernails-on-chalkboard screech, the door began to roll up on its own.
I reversed at full speed, not caring why the door was opening, only that it was my way out. Fortunately, the concrete driveway outside could easily turn a stretch limo. I turned the car around, then squealed up a concrete driveway through a forest. No one was following me. I hit the car’s touchscreen to show the map and screeched to a halt to pan it out. Crap. Wald had driven me over the Washington border to Idaho.
