Devil's Lake (Bittersweet Hollow Book 1) (23 page)

When the kid came out of the house to investigate, he’d done the same with him, hiding with the dogs in the tack room.

Those dogs were nice. They liked him and had kept him company up in the woods. He’d miss them. Maybe he’d go back and take them again. They were friendly and didn’t talk back to him like the voices in his head.

They didn’t yell at him, like his mom had.

No, they were great little pals.

He thought back to his success this morning, the way he’d taken down that tall blond man.

All he’d done was hide in the back seat of the cop car. That big guy had leaned over to check on the cop, and whammo! He’d gotten him good, right upside the head.

He smiled at the memory.

The fourth guy, the tall cowboy type who had seemed to be trying to protect Portia the other day when he played with them by shooting from the hill, had been a little tougher. He’d turned and fought for a few minutes. He’d even landed a pretty good punch.

He rubbed his chin. Still sore.

But I bludgeoned him good and he fell like a little girl.

When he’d taken care of all the big, bad men who supposedly guarded Portia, he’d gone inside to get her. To take back what was rightfully his.

But who had he found instead?

A gorgeous little pouty-lipped sexy number. The sister, he thought. Portia’s baby sister, the one he’d seen on the news, pleading with him to return Portia to her family.

He pulled up a chair and watched her sleep, stroking her fine gold hair.

She was plumper than Portia, who’d lost too much weight and had started looking a little too skinny, anyway. But plump in a good way, with soft, rounded hips, nice full breasts, and a face you’d see on television commercials. Pretty lips.

Oh, she was really fine. She might even be
the one.

He ran his fingers along her shoulder, down to her hips and thighs, then back to her breasts. They felt soft beneath her pajama top.

He’d have to get her some clothes. The nurse’s uniform in the wardrobe would probably fit her, but she’d need some clothes for when he didn’t want her that way.

With a start, he sat up, as if struck by an epiphany.

This one might even be pure enough to become his wife. Not a whore, like all the others. All those dirty, nasty girls his mother would never approve of.

No. This one might be just perfect.

He smiled and reached for the tie-wrap to secure her wrists.

No sense letting her get away.

Chapter 54

G
race woke with a start. Confused, she tried to turn from her back to her left side, but her wrist was caught by something and she couldn’t get it loose.

What the hell?

A dank smell wafted up from the strange bed she lay on, and when she opened her eyes, it all came flooding back to her.

That bastard, Murphy, had dragged her right out of Portia’s bed and had clamped a foul-smelling rag over her face. Before she could utter one feeble shout, he’d slung her over his back and carried her away.

She’d woken once or twice in the car. It had been dark, and when he noticed her moving, he’d slapped that damn cloth over her face again. Too weak to fight him, she’d fallen back into a drugged stupor.

Where am I? Is this the cabin where he kept Portia?

And where is he?

Wait.
Portia.

Did he kill her?

He wanted revenge, right? Because she’d escaped him, and kicked him in the balls?

A soft moan escaped her as she curled onto her side where her right wrist was secured to the frame of the bed with a plastic tie-wrap. She could see the room in murky darkness. And there, off to the other side, was another twin bed with a figure sleeping on it, facing away from her.

It’s him. Murphy.

A shudder ran through her.

I’ve been taken by the same bastard who took Portia.
It’s real.

Something inside her almost snapped, but she shook it off and found her center.

Breathe.

Just breathe.

She forced herself to think.

How can I outsmart this bastard? What does he want? A sex partner?

She almost cackled out loud.

I’ll give him what he wants. And then, when he’s sleeping, I’ll cripple him.

She waited another fifteen minutes, but the pressure on her bladder was too hard to ignore.

“Hey!” she yelled. “You.”

Murphy rolled toward her and groaned. “Five more minutes.”

“I’m not your freaking mother, moron. I have to pee. Get up.”

Murphy opened one eye. “What did you say?”

“I have to pee. Unless you want this place to stink, you’d better get me to a bathroom.”

She smiled inwardly. So much for giving him what he wants. She never could control her mouth.

He sat up and rubbed his eyes.

She studied him.

Yep. It was Murphy all right. Just like Portia had described him. Stringy gray hair, pitted skin. He was tall, too. Big and brawny.

A shiver of worry ran through her. “Wait a minute. Did you hurt my sister? My husband?”

Murphy heaved himself to his feet. “Portia’s fine. I didn’t even see her. Which one was your husband?”

She paled. Maybe he’d killed him after all. And that mechanical voice…God, that was creepy. What the hell was that all about? “The tall blond.”

“Oh, him.” Murphy grinned. “I just knocked him out. He’ll be fine.” He slid a knife out of his boot. “Hold still.”

Her heart did a flip.
My God! He’s going to cut me already? I just got here. Did I piss him off that badly?

“Wait!” She struggled and shrank toward the wall. “I’m sorry. Don’t.
Please
.”

He leaned down to her wrist. “Shut up and hold still. I’m just cutting off the tie.” He slid the knife between her skin and the plastic tie and freed her. “There. Now, don’t try anything.”

She breathed a sigh of relief and stood up on shaky legs.
Get a grip. For God’s sake. Don’t show your fear.

“Come on.” He grabbed her shoulders and started to propel her toward a door. “Bathroom’s in here. You gotta dump the bucket to flush the john.”

She wobbled, reaching for the bedpost to steady herself. “Wait a sec. I’m dizzy.”

He grabbed her elbow. “It’ll pass.”

She grimaced. “So, you’ve drugged a lot of girls?”

He didn’t smile this time. “Yes.”

She turned her face up to him. “Why?”

He forced her toward the door. “Don’t ask so many questions. You’re starting to annoy me.”

She stumbled toward the door, wondering why all her joints ached. “I can’t help it. Curious minds want to know.”

He stopped, turned her toward him, and leaned down into her face. “Listen, missy.”

“My name’s Grace.”

“Okay, listen, Grace. I was thinking maybe you were gonna be the one. But now you’re starting to make me wonder. You might be just as skanky as all the rest.”

“Skanky?” She snorted a laugh. “Do you even know what that word means?”

He frowned. “You might be a whore. Just like all of them.”

She shoved his chest before she knew what her hands were doing. “Wait just one minute!” She walked toward him, and he actually stepped back. “You think I’m a whore? You think my sweet sister Portia was a whore?” Her face darkened in anger. “You’re full of shit, you big, stinking, ugly bastard.”

He stood as if dazed.

“My sister is the kindest, purest girl you’d ever know. She hardly had any boyfriends her whole life, you idiot.” She roared the next words. “And I might’ve done some things with guys I’m not proud of…but I’m no whore.”

Before he could react, she stomped to the bathroom and slammed the door.

Chapter 55

W
hile Grace used the facilities, she analyzed everything in the room and took inventory.

Toilet. Toilet lid. (heavy, could be used to knock him out)

Sink. Soap.

Mirror. (crack it, use it as a knife)

No window.

Shower stall. Shower rod. (could I dismantle it and use it as a weapon?)

Plenty of possibilities. I just have to figure out when to go for it.

At night? When he’s groggy? Maybe I can fake him out. Pretend to be really sick.

She finished up, poured part of the bucket into the toilet, and watched it flush. There was a trickle of water coming out the sink and she used it to wet and finger comb her hair, then rubbed wet fingers on her teeth to try to clean them. She figured he had jury-rigged the plumbing from the original building somehow to make this little half-functioning bathroom work.

With a confidant flourish, she shoved open the door and walked up to him. “I’m going to need some things, Murphy.”

He glowered at her. “You’re pretty pushy, lady.”

She walked to a chair and sat. “Yes. I am. But you’re stuck with me now, so you’d better get used to it.”

He just stared.

“I need a toothbrush, toothpaste, fresh towels, shampoo and conditioner. I’ll need some feminine products as well.” She gave him a hard stare. “Do you know what I mean by that?”

He gulped and nodded. “Kotex?”

She crossed her legs. “That’ll do.”

As if he finally came to his senses, he rushed toward her and jerked her to her feet. “Listen. I’m the boss here. I make the rules. You can’t demand stuff from me.” He dragged her to the bed and shoved her onto the mattress.

“You don’t need to tie me up,” she said casually. “I kind of like this little hideaway. It’s mysterious.”

“What?” He studied her eyes. “Sure you do. I know you’re lying.” He grabbed a new tie-wrap from a pile on the table and secured her wrist again.

“Don’t make it too tight,” she said. “It’ll cut off my circulation.”

He stopped before cinching it, and left a little room for her blood to move. “This’ll hold you.”

“Why don’t you just use rope?” she asked, conversationally.

He stood back and rubbed his eyes in frustration. “Because your damned sister got out of ropes. I’ve improved my methods.”

As if she didn’t hear him, she pointed to the mini-fridge. “What’s for breakfast? I’m starving.”

He sighed. “You don’t stop talking, do you?”

She smirked. “No. Why? Does it bother you?”

He shook his head. “Just not used to it. Your sister didn’t say much at all.”

“My sister and I are worlds apart. We’re like opposite sides of the same coin. She’s quiet. I’m loud. She’s private. I’m a social butterfly. She’s focused. I’m scattered all over the place.”

“You’re prettier.”

That stopped her. She hesitated, then kept talking. “No. I’m not. You just messed her up by starving her. You gonna do that to me, too, Murphy?” She narrowed her eyes at him, showing no fear. What he didn’t know—she hoped—was that fear boiled in her gut right now and it was all she could do to keep up her sassy attitude. “Or are we gonna work on this relationship so we can have a future together?”

Murphy slumped into a chair, looking dazed.

Good, she was confusing him.

“What?” he said.

“I thought you said I could be
the one
. Didn’t you?”

“Um. Yeah.” He started to sweat.

“Well, if I’m going to like you, we have to dream together. Plan for things. Do you want children?” She shifted and smiled, as if pleased with the idea. “I do. And we need good food, not that junk you brought to my sister. All that fried food is no good for you. What’s your cholesterol, anyway?”

“What? Cholesterol?”

“Yeah. When’s the last time you had it checked? It’s dangerous to eat food high in fat all the time. Don’t you know that?”

He stood and threw his hands in the air. “Stop.”

“Stop what? Asking you about your health?”

He scowled. “You’re messing with my mind. I need time to think.”

“Go for a drive, then, dear. And don’t forget to come back with groceries. I’m starving. Bring back some eggs, bread, butter, cheese…”

He stomped to the door and turned. “Just shut the hell up, woman.”

She smiled. She was getting to him.

He slammed the door and locked it. In five minutes, she heard a car peeling out.

She let the sobs out then, but planned to stop them well before he returned.

Portia. Anderson. Come find me. Please.

Chapter 56

M
urphy returned with three bags full of groceries. She watched quietly while he put away the perishables, and started cooking eggs and bacon. He looked different to Grace, somehow more humble? More at peace?

When he turned to finally face her, she flashed him a small smile.

He flushed, turning beet red.

“Smells good,” she said. “But I can’t help you tied up over here like a prisoner.”

He slammed the spatula down on the table. “Damn you.”

She opened her eyes wide, and almost fluttered her lashes at him. “That’s not very nice.”

He lowered his eyebrows and stared at her, marched right up to her, and towered over her menacingly. “You need to shut up now. I’m not letting you go.”

Tucking her legs up beside her on the bed, she pouted. “I’m sure as hell not trying to escape, honey. But you’re making it really hard for us to get to know each other.” She patted a space beside her. “Why don’t you sit for a minute?”

Looking at her with utter frustration, he tensed, then dropped to the bed beside her. “Why?”

“Because you haven’t even told me your first name yet. How can I go around calling you Murphy? That’s just not right.”

He almost growled, and she noticed the conflicting emotions playing over his face.
Good. Maybe I’m messing him up some more.

“It’s Charles. But I’m not stupid, woman. I can’t be tricked. I know you’re trying to trick me.”

“Charles? I like that. May I call you Charlie?”

He stiffened. “No. That’s what my mother called me. Only her.”