Page 9 of The Mobster’s Prize

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“Looks like that bladder of yours is solid,” he states, coming to a stop. “Either that or you were trying to make a run for it. But if you need to go, feel free to squat in the trees.”

A huff escapes me, and his lips twitch in what almost looks like a hint of a smile. A ghost of amusement that quickly blows away faster than it came in. Now that tight scowl is back.

“Don’t you have a bathroom? Or does this little shack not have any plumbing?”

The place is a lot smaller than I expected. It looks like a little wooden cottage. Like a little hunter’s cottage. It’s actually charming, idyllic in a mountain-esque kind of way. But not what I expected for a mobster. I expected him to have some grand log mansion overlooking the entire canyon, just like my dad’s home.

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He gets out, coming around to my door, and practically hauls me from the truck. Carrying me into his house. My feet hit the ground. Then he draws a switchblade from his pocket. Panic shoots through me as he grabs my wrist. The zip tie snaps free, falling to the ground, finally bringing the circulation back to my hands.

“Bathroom’s over there.” He points to the door on the left.

I was right. The place isn’t much bigger than an old hunter’s cottage. There’s a little kitchen with two barstools at the counter. A small living area with two leather chairs and a table with a lamp set between. One door on the left side of the room leads to the bathroom, and the door on the right must lead to the bedroom. I’m not sure what that means for sleeping arrangements, but there isn’t even a sofa in this place.

I go into the bathroom, doing my business, and my nerves twist tighter when I see the tiniest window above the toilet. There’s no way a human could fit through that thing. Definitely not someone of my size. My plans for escaping are looking less and less promising by the second. My only hope may be the truck keys.

I turn to wash my hands, almost shrieking when I see my reflection in the mirror. My hair’s a mess. There’s what may or may not be horse poop smudged across my cheek. And I’m covered in hay. I may not be trying to impress my captor, but I don’t want to look atrocious in front of the man. I turn on the shower, then poke my head out the door.

“Hey! Do you have a change of clothes?”

Dag looks at me. His face fixed in that permanent scowl.

“Making yourself right at home, huh?”

“You’re the one who said I needed to be hosed off.” I smile sweetly. “Just following orders.”

He rolls his eyes.

Yep. We’re going to get along swimmingly.

He disappears into the bedroom, returning with a stack of clothes.

“Gracias.” I give him a pointed smirk, retreating inside the bathroom. The clothes I’m wearing may actually need to be burned. They’re putrid. I step into the shower and the warm water seeps into my bones, defrosting my nerves one by one. Once I’m clean and get some food in my stomach, I can come up with an escape plan. Or maybe I’ll wait until after I’ve gotten some sleep. I’m exhausted. Getting kidnapped will do that to a girl. Plus, I need daylight to navigate my way out of here.

I close my eyes, breathing out slowly, hating my father for putting me in this mess.

There was a point in my life when I almost changed my last name and cut ties permanently with the man. It happened when I found out he had cheated on my mother with numerous women. That’s why she left. That’s why she never came back. I lost all respect for him. But… I couldn’t do it. He’s the only family I have left.

And now look at me.