Page 65 of Roped in Rawhide

I cock my head at a patronizing angle. “They were smart enough to flee. Are you?”

A challenge sparkles in her light eyes, but she wobbles her bottom lip like a trained actress. “Why are you doing this?”

“I’ve been watching you. Just waiting for the moment to strike. And here you are, falling into my trap.”

Gemma squeaks, violently shaking her head. “You’re scaring me.”

“Good.” I grin behind the mask. “But you’re still not running.”

“Please,” she cries. Her legs shift restlessly. “Just go away.”

“That’s not gonna happen, pretty girl.” I take two more steps toward her. “Hurry or I’ll catch you.”

Gemma pivots and darts for the stairs. A witch’s cackle chases her up the steep flight. My laughter joins in. She’s playing along and that pleases me. Deeply.

Whenever we used to watch horror movies together, we’d scream at the television whenever a victim raced upstairs rather than outside to evade the killer. It never ended well for them. Gemma either wants me to get her or she’s dragging it out. Either way, she’s committed to the scene.

I give her another five seconds to hide. My stride is a threat with each heavy stomp. The floorboards creak under my approach to signal her impending doom. Whimpers from the bedroom closet lure me in. When I wrench open the doors, Gemma shrieks and takes off again.

I stalk her from room to room, barely letting her escape my clutches at each turn. “Gonna getcha, pretty girl.”

“Stop,” she pleads while running out of options.

My towering height looms over the bathtub where she’s cowering. “Do you give up?”

Her entire body trembles and I think she just might. “Never!”

With the might of a much larger force, she shoves me backward and streaks away like lightning. Her blonde braid whips around when she dares to look over her shoulder. I stand with my feet planted wide, ready to resume our chase. Shadows conceal most of me, but the danger I represent expands until she’s blocked in. Gemma yelps and rushes back down the stairs.

I’m quick to follow, but she’s faster. My shrouded gaze searches the empty space. There’s no sign of her other than the hurried gait that bounces off the walls. We’re nearing the pivotal peak where I snatch her unexpectedly.

“Pretty girl,” I call. “Come out and let me find you.”

“Go away!” her voice booms from the kitchen.

Rather than hunt her, I move to the far end of the house. Gemma arrives within seconds. There’s a wildness about her that almost has me abandoning the plot. Her face is flushed beautifully. Stray hairs fan out in an erratic display. Labored breaths part her lips as she seeks safety.

When we reach another set of mirrors, I allow her to see my face for a split second before tugging the mask back into place. She shudders and ducks for cover under a table, crawling on her hands and knees to the opposite side. Just before she can reach the exit, I wrap my arms around her and yank her into the darkness. Gemma struggles against me, but it’s no use.

“No!” Her body wriggles fiercely. “Let me go.”

“Never,” I rasp. The voice modulator contorts the word into something depraved.

Her panting exhales get louder. “What’re you gonna do with me?”

“Keep you.”

Gemma whines when I nuzzle the scarecrow mask into her neck. “But I have plans tomorrow.”

That sounds familiar. “Too bad. Consider them cancelled.”

“It’s important.”

“What’s more important than this?” The desperation leeches from me, even through the device.

“I need to meet my former best friend who became my enemy, but now we’re lovers.”

I pause. “That’s complicated.”