Wild Men of Alaska Collection - By Helmer, Tiffinie Page 0,113
kitchen, as I’m sure you are vell avare. I’ve been alive this long for a good reason. I plan. Prepare. Study.” He tightened the rope around her hands, this time keeping them in front and then wrapping the rope around her middle, anchoring her whole body to the chair.
Yeah, this would be a bitch to get out of. She had to wonder why he hadn’t secured her like this to begin with. Had that been some sort of test?
She could get out of this, too, if she wanted. Being double-jointed came in handy for someone like her. But she’d save that for later. For now, she’d let him relax, which as she looked back on it, was something she should have done before. Now he was on guard—or at least, more on guard—and she had a feeling the man never completely relaxed.
He finished checking her bindings. “Stay.”
Sergei disappeared, and she wondered how long he’d be. Did she have time to get loose? She could, given enough time. Only a few people in the world knew she was double-jointed. And most of them were dead. The few who were alive weren’t in her life much anymore. She had a martial arts coach who probably didn’t remember her, and a brother in prison. Their parents had passed away in a car accident when they’d been in high school, and Kate had entered the military rather than head down the self-destructive path her brother had taken.
She could hear Sergei rummaging in a room not far from the kitchen. Now was not the time to make another move. She should have waited when she woke from the choke hold to cut herself free. The moment of surprise was a precious one, and she’d squandered hers. It was always good to have one’s opponent have low expectations of one’s abilities.
So she waited.
Sergei didn’t keep her waiting long. Again, making her glad she hadn’t attempted to get free.
He plunked a first aid kit on the table, swiveled a chair around in front of her, and sat. Taking her bound hands in his, he opened the package of antiseptic wipes. Cursing under his breath, he cleaned the dried blood from her fingers.
Why was he doing this? Some Stockholm Syndrome shit to relax her? She didn’t give a damn if her wounds were tended to. But the shock of having him clean the blood off her hands sealed her mouth shut and caused her heart to pound with feelings she refused to put a name to. He applied anti-bacterial cream to the cuts, and then covered them with band aids. She said nothing and neither did he. Once he was done, he doctored the shallow cuts she’d inflicted on him, and then bundled up the supplies, depositing them to wherever he’d procured them.
When he returned, he opened the refrigerator and pulled out a marinating salmon. She could smell soy sauce, brown sugar, and something spicy. Her stomach rumbled again, and he flicked a glance her direction from under his brows. A slight smile split his lips. “I’ve always vanted to make you dinner. I never figured you’d be my captive audience though.”
“Funny man.”
He arranged the salmon on a baking pan, preheated the oven while he started rice to cook on the gas stove.
“Coffee?” he asked, pouring himself some in a mug painted with funny moose faces.
Oh God, yes. “I don’t care.”
That smile reappeared as he set the mug in front of her and poured himself another. He’d tied her in such a way that she had use of her hands and arms, T-Rex fashion, so that she could feed herself and drink, without struggling too much.
How freaking thoughtful of him.
She waited for him to drink from his cup first before picking up her coffee and sipping. She cut off the groan before he heard it. The coffee was dark and rich and strong, just how she craved it.
He seemed satisfied and went about preparing dinner. While the rice simmered, he added the salmon to cook in the oven, and grabbed canned vegetables from the pantry.
“Sorry, no fresh vegetables this time of year and store is too far.”
Like she cared one way or the other. She’d been eating MREs. Right now food was food, and she’d gladly eat it, but didn’t plan on thanking him for it. If she’d already killed him, she could have raided the pantry, eaten anything she wanted before she was picked up. She had two days to finish this.