“I ran into her this morning. Truth is, I’ve been avoiding her. But today I told her I’m ready.”
“Good.”
Ruth’s hands were sweating, and her heart began a slow, hard beat. Was she ready to go on record? She needed to be. “I’ll get together with her tomorrow or Monday, maybe while you’ve got the girls for their lesson.” Looking at the week ahead, Ruth wondered if her mother would continue to watch Penny after their disagreement. Bev could be very forgiving, but she hated losing face in the community. Maybe it was time to talk with Jessica’s mom about watching the girls for part of the week. Fiona would be a great backup.
“You should tell Kat about the flag man too,” Ethan said, explaining that he’d run into his sister at Menlo’s Market, where she’d been taking a report about a theft. Someone had stolen a box of flags that Don Menlo had put on an endcap for the holiday. “It’s petty thievery, but that’s not to diminish your instincts that this guy is a threat. I believe in the power of fear. If you’re afraid of someone, usually there’s a good reason.”
“My instincts have run amok. I see my attacker everywhere now.”
“You can’t blame yourself for that,” Ethan said. “You’ve returned to the scene of the trauma, and now you’ve got a daughter to protect. The stakes are high here.” He rose from the table and stretched. “You know, it wouldn’t hurt to have a little muscle nearby.” He summoned her closer and flexed one arm. “See that?”
The close proximity stirred something deep inside. She wouldn’t mind having an intimate look at the rest of his body. “Nice guns,” she said with a smile.
“At your disposal anytime.” When they both laughed, he added, “Seriously. Let me be your bodyguard. I’ve got to run over to my father’s place for a cookout, but after that, I’m free for fireworks or whatever.”
She placed a hand on his upper arm, testing the steely ridges there. “That sounds like a plan.”
A moment passed where Ruth’s hand still lay on his arm. Ethan gazed down at her, and the sudden, silent intensity shot a thrill through her. He took her in his arms and swept her close. Ruth closed her eyes as his hands moved down her back, leaving a trail of sweet sensation, pinpoints of light and desire as he cupped her bottom and held her against him. He wanted her; she could feel that in the hard ridge of his lean body, and she wanted him too.
He leaned down to kiss her, and she welcomed the touch of his lips on hers, the spark of desire there, the sweet opening that hinted of more. Desire, like warm, lazy honey, oozed through her veins, making her knees weak. But as her legs softened, he held her to him and kept her from falling.
Keep me from falling.
She wanted to stay this way forever, safe within his strong arms. She wanted to make love all day and all night. But there were little girls to corral, and the oven timer was beeping, drawing her away. Damn, but it was hard to pull back.
When they finally pulled apart, there were promises simmering in his eyes.
Later could not come soon enough.
*
Time was marked only by the sun, now a fat, roiling dandelion in the window overhead. From her calculations, Addie believed today was the Fourth of July, and she hoped the festivities would be reason enough to keep him in town and away from her, his rough, thick hands off her body, his salty man smell out of range. Besides, she needed time to get her work done—a tedious task, with pathetic progress, but right now it was the only hope she could cling to. Each day, after she was sure he had left the shed, she squatted next to the tin bucket and worked a section of the chain link over the rim of the bucket. If she did this every day, as often as she could, she believed that one day the chain loop would wear down enough that she could break free and make her escape. The scraping had barely made a dent so far, but the bucket was the hardest edge she could find in this old, moldering shack.
Back and forth, back and forth. She gritted her teeth as the metal scraped against metal. Occasionally she would stop and check her progress, allowing herself a frown. But she had given up on cursing and crying, realizing that it only sucked her energy away and tugged her down into an even lower pit of misery.
Today, when she went to check how far she had worn the cuff chain away, she noticed the marks she was making on the bucket. The bucket’s rim was now a shinier shade of silver, with hairline scrapes feathering this way and that—evidence of her escape efforts.
Would he notice?
Probably.
She lowered herself to the cot and leaned back against the beam of what was supposed to be a wall. What excuse could she give? That she’d been chewing on the edge of the water bucket because she was hungry? She actually didn’t have much appetite. The takeout burgers and peanut butter sandwiches he brought her had little appeal because they came from him. She kept hydrated with creek water, but it gave her satisfaction when he would return and find that she’d barely picked at the food.
Maybe she should tell him that she’d been trying to file down her nails? That would be a laugh. She had asked him to bring some shampoo, toothpaste, and a manicure kit. She had planned to use the latter for the sharp edges she’d find inside, though she had made a pitch about getting sexy for him. He was always telling her what a failure she was as a whore. Like that was going to motivate her. Right. If you don’t like it, asshole, let me go.
But Monster Man had simply brought her a toothbrush and toothpaste and told her he wasn’t running a resort. The bastard. She started scraping again, fiendishly, desperately.
When she stopped, the chain link appeared bruised, but not compromised at all. Leaning back with a sigh, she wiped the fine sheen of sweat from her forehead and gingerly touched the tender area of her wrists under the handcuffs. The nasty acetate made her wrists sweat and left a raw, crusty ring around her wrists. She reached her fingertips into the water bucket and came back with droplets to flick over the wound. Hardly a first aid kit, but better than nothing.
She blew on her wrist to dry it, and then tugged the cuffs back toward her fingertips. The ring began to slide along the butt of her palm.
What?
She stared at it with eyes wide open, tugging again. The cuffs were definitely closer to sliding off than they had ever been before.
She gaped in wonder. Were her bones collapsing? Or maybe it was because she was barely eating and losing weight.
Whatever was causing it, she had a chance of sliding out of these in the future.
A chance.
Leaning toward the bucket, she cupped a handful of water, splashed it over her neck, and leaned back against the wall. The water helped to cool her as it trickled down over her breasts and shoulders.
She closed her eyes and dreamed of stepping into the icy waters of the creek with Dean beside her, holding her hand.
Someday, the dream would be real.
Someday . . .
Chapter 20