GLASS_ A Standalone Novel - Arianne Richmonde Page 0,93
mouth with another large bite.
“We got TV,” he told me. “But otherwise nothin’ else to do. Except fuck, if you want to.”
I stopped chewing, wondering if I’d heard him right. “No thanks.” I sounded cocky but my heart was thundering in my chest. I’d been dismissive of him, he’d rape me for sure, to punish me. Or strike me. But I also know that if I showed fear I’d be giving him what he wanted—and he’d rape me anyway, probably even more violently.
But to my amazement, he laughed again. “You don’t know what you’re missin.’ Most girls beg me to fuck ’em.”
“I’m not most girls,” I shot back through a full mouth. My sassiness was working. It was keeping him at bay. “Where’s Daniel?”
“The guy in the coma?”
“Yes, the guy in the coma. He’s still alive, right?” The man didn’t answer. “What do you know?” I shrieked, my voice an octave higher. I grabbed him by the T-shirt and felt a set of hard abs beneath the fabric. This guy obviously worked out. A lot. Easy, Janie, don’t get too over confident, this man could break you in two . . . in more ways than one.
He held me by the wrist, restraining me. “Do that again and you’ll make my dick hard.”
I looked him square in the eye. But I was terrified. Just as I suspected . . . getting hysterical was turning him on. I kept my voice calm, even. “Tell me where Daniel is.”
“And you’ll fuck me if I do?”
“No, I won’t fuck you. And if you fucked me, I’d lie there like a stone. If that would give you pleasure, go ahead. Although . . . if I were in your shoes? I’d want a woman to reciprocate.” I eyed him carefully, and he said nothing. I guess I’d gotten to his pride. A cute looking guy like this would be used to women chasing him. This was Vegas, there was no shortage of women who’d find a crass, but physically attractive guy like him sexy. “I just want to know,” I carried on, “how much she paid you to bring me here, because if you let me go, I can double your fee.” I mentally thanked God for the Bellagio chip money. “I need to find Daniel, my boyfriend. My fiancée, actually.”
“Now I know you’re shittin’ me, ’cos he’s married to Dr. Jürgen.”
“Ah, so you are working for her? Thanks for the confirmation. I question that, actually—their marriage. Daniel would never . . .” I didn’t finish my sentence. The truth was I didn’t really know who Daniel was. Not the whole of him, anyway. There was the seed of doubt germinating in my mind. Maybe he’d made a foolish mistake and had married Kristin, in a moment of weakness? “Anyway,” I continued, “the woman is a crazy monster! Not to be trusted. Her sister died after being in a coma while she was in Dr. Jürgen’s care. Coincidence, don’t you think? Not. She’s a whack-job who needs to be stopped, and if you have any conscience whatsoever, any morals, you will let me out of here and lead me to Daniel!” I was crying now, the thought of Daniel lying there, helpless, was too much to bear.
My keeper swept his hand over his dark hair. “The dude is in a coma, there’s nothing any of us can do. And anyway, you’re barkin’ up the wrong tree, lady, cos no, I don’t have any morals and I don’t have that much of a conscious either.”
“Conscience, not conscious,” I snapped, gulping down my tears.
“Whatever.”
“You think a coma is that straightforward?” I demanded. “Even patients in a supposed ‘vegetative state’ can know what’s going on around them. I read about a team of neuroscientists that used state-of–the-art technology to communicate with a man in a vegetative state. He was able to relay information to them about his condition, saying that he was not in any pain. Not verbally but by studying and mapping the neural patterns flashing on their screen. Like a ‘yes’ produced a different neural signature than when he thought ‘no.’ You see? He is not a lost cause! I am not giving up on Daniel!” I hoped my little speech had convinced this man how urgent the situation was. I drained the last of my Coke and sprang up from the sofa. An instant head rush caused me to topple back down, landing with a thump on my coccyx.