Page 4 of Pounded in the Patch
I squeeze my eyes shut and try to make my body go limp, feigning unconsciousness. Maybe if he thinks I'm still out, I'll have some kind of advantage when he comes for me.
Maybe I'll find a way out of this alive.
I hear the driver's door open with a soft click that sounds impossibly loud in the still air. Heavy boots hit the ground.
He's walking around the car. He’s taking his time.
Probably savoring the fucking moment.
The footsteps circle the vehicle slowly, like a predator stalking wounded prey. I can feel him looking at me through the windows, studying me, planning his next move. This is a game to him.
Please. Please let me wake up from this nightmare.
But the harsh bite of rope around my wrists is too real, too raw. The leather smell of the car, the dry feeling of fear in my mouth, the sound of those boots—all of it is undeniably, terrifyingly real.
The footsteps stop just outside my door.
He's right there.
One thin piece of glass and metal between me and him.
What’s he waiting for?
Finally, the handle above my head clicks, and cool night air rushes in, carrying with it a mixture of scents that make mystomach churn. Earth and decay, smoke and autumn leaves. And something else, something sweet…
Pumpkin?
"It’s time to wake up, my night monster."
His voice is deep, rough around the edges, tainted with barely leashed control and dark amusement. I don't recognize it. It’s definitely not anyone I know.
I keep my eyes closed and try to keep my breathing steady, but I'm trembling now. I can't help it.
"I know you're awake, beautiful."
The endearment should feel menacing, but it doesn't. It sounds almost… familiar. Like he knows me.
But that's impossible.
I've never heard this voice before in my life. I would remember it.
"Your pulse is racing," he continues, and I feel the warm press of skin against my throat—rough fingers checking my heartbeat. "And you've been awake for the last ten minutes. Did you really think I couldn't tell?"
How the fuck would he know that?
The hand moves away, but I can still feel the phantom pressure where he touched me. His touch didn’t feel violent or threatening, but possessive. Like he was checking on something that belonged to him.
"There's no point in pretending anymore," he says, and I can hear the wicked smile in his words. "We have work to do, you and I."
Work.
What kind of work requires kidnapping someone and driving them into the middle of a fucking forest?
Nothing good, and definitely nothing I want any part of.
But I don't have a choice, do I? Whatever game he’s playing, I'm already a piece on his board. The only question now is whether I'm going to be a passive pawn or find a way to become a player and win the game.
Be smart. Assess the situation. Look for opportunities.
