Kiss Me in the Dark Anthology - Monica James Page 0,11

want a ransom, knowing Drew is wealthy, then why are they taking me to Turkey?

None of this makes any sense.

The hatch opens, letting in the vibrant sunshine, but I feel anything but lively. When one of the Russians comes bouncing down the stairs, I don’t know if I should be relieved or scared. Of course, the ski mask covers his face, so I will only be able to tell who he is when he speaks.

Holding my breath, I watch as he hunts through the shelves of canned food, grabbing two. “Eat?” he asks in very broken English. Russian number two. He is the one who speaks little English. He is also the bastard who pistol-whipped me.

“No, thank you,” I spit. I’d rather starve than break bread with them. My throat is dry, and I’m thirsty as all get-out, but it’ll be a cold day in hell when I tell him that. He shrugs, probably thankful there is more for him. He heads back up on the deck, slamming the hatch behind him.

Every part of my body aches, and I desperately need a shower. I am covered in blood, sweat, and tears. The thought of standing under a hot spray to wash away this filth has me slipping into a happy place…until the devil ruins it.

“You need to eat.”

Inhaling, I turn my cheek, refusing to look at him. He responds with laughter.

He seems to have more pep in his step than when he left last night, and I begin to wonder why that is. The closer he gets to me, the more the memories of him foiling my escape incite my anger. “Eat,” he repeats.

“No,” I push out between clenched teeth, my face still facing away. I don’t want to look at him. I won’t be held responsible for my actions if I do.

“I made it myself,” he quips, shoving a plate of baked beans under my nose. My stomach gurgles, and the urge to vomit overpowers me.

“Fuck you,” I scowl, uncaring what the repercussions are.

Silence.

I’m testing his patience, but I won’t roll over and die. I did that once, and I won’t ever do it again. If he wanted a docile little hostage, then he kidnapped the wrong girl.

My insolence hasn’t affected him in the slightest because I hear the wooden chair being dragged across the floor and then a loud thump onto the table. “So if you won’t eat…what do you want?”

“For you to let me go,” I counter in lightning-quick speed. Risking a glance his way, I scoff when I see him perched casually on the chair, boots resting on the table, ankles crossed. He has his hands linked behind his head. Just another day in paradise for this asshole.

When we lock eyes, I glare, hoping he knows how much I hate him.

“I can’t do that,” he says, shaking his head slowly. “So pick again.”

“Is this a game to you?” I ask, enraged he seems to be enjoying himself. “My husband is going to find you and kill you.” As far as threats go, it’s pretty severe, but once again, Saint finds my offensiveness hilarious.

“Ooh…I’m shaking in my boots.” He chuckles, waving his hands in the air and feigning horror.

I really fucking hate him.

“This is growing old fast, so you have one of three options.” He raises a finger. “One—you eat.” I curl my lip in response. He raises another finger. “Two—you shower.” When I don’t reply, he completes his counting with a third finger. “Or three—I gag you, and you don’t have any other options until we dock this boat.”

I pale at the thought. “So what will it be, ангел?” There’s that name again. It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask him what it means, but I won’t give him the satisfaction of my curiosity. “I won’t ask again.”

“Two!” I shout when he kicks his legs off the table and slides his chair back. “Two.”

He stands slowly, nodding. “Good pick because you fucking stink.” My cheeks instantly redden as I’m mortified.

His eyes soften, but it’s probably just the way the sunlight hits his strange eyes because nothing about the man standing in front of me is soft. “Now, the last time I untied you, we had issues. Is that going to happen again?”

“No,” I reply because with him foiling my plans of slipping out the window, I need to find another escape route.

“Good.” He paces toward me, causing me to shrink back.

Now that I’m standing, I can see that he is, in fact, well over