Page 54 of Stolen By the Billionaire
After a quick shower in the adjoining bathroom, Sarah had shimmied into that tee shirt and dropped all her clothes, even her bra and panties, in the laundry basket he’d left for her to do that, and then she’d walked through the hallways of the house to meet him in his office like he’d told her to.
His dark and scary office.
The office must have been beneath the front side of the house and thus set into the hill, thus mostly underground. One long window up near the ceiling barely let in the fading sunlight.
Like a prison cell.
Sarah’s throat clenched, and she swallowed hard.
This guy had kidnapped her—and even if he’d said it was to save her life, it was still kidnapping—and now she was going to allow him to tie her up.
That was the deal.
She wasn’t even going to fight him when he came back with the handcuffs, or zip ties again, or whatever.
She was just going to let him tie her to the chair, and then she would be absolutely helpless.
He still might be a serial killer.
But if he was a serial killer, she was already dead, anyway. He’d successfully taken her to the proverbial second location where he had control. The fact that she was still breathing was only a formality.
Most serial killers tortured their victims before they killed them.
Or assaulted them.
Blaze hadn’t done any of those to Sarah yet.
Unless you counted the “enchilada.” Her mouth still stung from the chemical weapons that thing was soaked in, despite brushing her teeth. She probably had blisters on her tongue.
Maybe he was waiting to tie her up before he got out the knives and peelers.
Her leg vibrated harder, her heel snare-drumming the wooden floor.
A shadow darkened the doorway.
Blaze Robinson entered the office and closed the door behind him with a soft thud.
He’d changed his clothes, too. Instead of the khaki camouflage he’d worn to kidnap her from her farm, he’d donned beige trousers and a white shirt that buttoned down the front. He’d rolled up the sleeves, baring his forearms and the muscles that bulged under his tanned skin.
The ends of his tattoos trickled over his skin, thin blue-black lines like twigs clasped around his forearms.
He held skeins of rope in his strong hands, all neatly folded and wrapped.
Sarah swallowed the bitterness coating her throat. “So, you were serious about the tying-me-up thing.”
Blaze nodded, and he was watching her seriously. No trace of a smile creased his face, not that he had ever smiled at her. “I won’t allow you to endanger yourself or me by giving away our location, even to your friend in Iowa. I will bind you securely so you can’t move or speak.”
So, the part of her plan to somehow get a message to a neighbor was toast.
He asked, “Do you want to go through with this?”
Worrying about Charlie and HowNow was sapping her attention and strength. Every few seconds, concern about where they were, if they were lost and scared, if they’d been shot, if they were dead, plucked at her mind.
If she knew they were safe, she could turn all her concentration to escape.
And if he tied Sarah up and killed her, well, they might as well get the anticipation over with.
The waiting was the worst part.
