Chapter Nine

Run, Rabbit, Run.

Ella

Had she ever felt worse than this? Clutching her belly, she moaned at the dull ache lingering there. She might have regurgitated what little food she'd eaten, leaving her stomach vacant and desperate, but the ghost of the poor rabbit still haunted her.

"Oh God." She wanted to cry at the mere thought of the bunny's fate.

She'd eaten rabbit and even considered going back for more. Rabbit—the word ricocheted in her head—like the cute bunnies she'd kept as a small girl. How could she ever look herself in the mirror again?

"How are you, little girl?" Tucker towered over her, although she dared not look up to acknowledge him. Dramatic movement might inspire another round of illness.

"Awful." She cowered by the trunk of a tree, refusing to open her eyes. Her head pounded, the hours of dehydration coupled with her recent infirmity making it difficult to think.

Things were getting worse.

However terrible she'd felt in the barn—and there was little doubt that she had—it was nothing compared to the insidious sense of doom surrounding her now. This was her so-called life—trapped with Tucker in a tiny cabin in the forest, bound and forced to eat small, fluffy animals.

I can't live like this.

I won't survive.

Her stomach lurched at the appalling idea.

Why is this happening to me?

"Are you going to be ill again?"

"I think so." She lurched forward again, her head regretting the swift action as soon as she'd made it. "I can't believe I ate a bunny." Her sorrow amplified the pain in both her head and her belly.

"Not a bunny." He sighed as though she was being absurd. "A wild animal, little girl. That's how life is out here in the wilderness. It's a dog eat dog."

‘Or a woman eats rabbit.'

He didn't say the final sentence, but she sensed he toyed with the idea.

That's why I loathe the wilderness.

She swallowed, trying to soothe her dry throat but spectacularly failing. Christ, she felt like death, but at least he wasn't on her back about calling him ‘sir' again.

A ball of energy tightened in her chest at the humiliation. What an arrogant jerk! She couldn't believe he'd demanded the address, but even worse, in the end, she'd caved in and given him what he wanted.

What else could I do?

The question did nothing to quell the banging in her head.

If she'd countered him, then he'd have restrained her again and served her the same bunny pie cold. The reminder of her mistaken meal only whipped up her repulsion. She was damned whatever she did, but it was better to be free than bound to his bed.

Her gaze flitted fleetingly to his.

Bound to his bed?

She inhaled. The idea wasn't as revolting as it should have been. The truth was that Tucker was a good-looking guy. Older than the men she generally dated by at least a decade, he was quick-witted and clearly had a range of diverse experiences that piqued her interest. Then there was the fact that beneath his tight-fitting shirt, she had the feeling there was a strong and muscular body. Hell, he'd carried her enough times without seemingly breaking a sweat. He was obviously in great shape.

Stop.Her gaze burned into the mud between her fingers. Stop thinking that way. This is the man who captured me, bound me, and manhandled me.

I can't find him attractive. I don't…

But despite the brass band playing in her head, her scratchy throat, and the horrendous taste in her mouth, she acknowledged that she did.

There was something about Tucker.

He might be the bane of her life, but he was a dark and brooding bane who offered more temptation than he should.

"If you need to be sick, then do it." His tone was clipped, demonstrating that whatever passed for Tucker's empathy had run out. "Get it out of your system."

"Thanks." Why was she thanking him? Did she now need his permission to be ill? Dread filled up the vacuum in her chest. Maybe she did.

"I feel like crap." The pressure on her triceps at having to bear her upper body weight with bound wrists was becoming intolerable. Sprawled out in the dirt, only feet away from a pile of her own vomit, she'd never felt so low.

"Take a minute." He sighed, shifting to lean on the other side of the trunk. "Take deep, slow breaths. The fresh air will help."

Doing as suggested, she turned away from where she'd been ill and pulled in a lungful of air. He was right. Given long enough, the forest air might have done the trick, but Ella didn't want to sit in the mud and wait only to be dragged back into his horrible cabin.

"I'm losing the feeling in my fingers." Wriggling the digits, she frowned as she stared at them. "Can you help me please, sir?"

She wasn't losing the feeling in them at all, but the lie seemed the only way to convince her captor that removing the ropes was the required course of action. She figured that addressing him in the ridiculous way he'd insisted was sure to stroke his ego and ease his compliance. It was the best trick she had to get out of the ropes, and getting out of those ropes was her fast-track ticket to freedom.

"Let me look." He was right there with her in a moment, crouching down at her side as he tugged her hands into the air. Her shattered body concurred with the jerk, allowing him to check the ropes without complaint. "The ropes aren't too tight."

"But I can't feel my fingers." It was easy to feign the fear in her voice because she wasn't faking it at all.

She had to get away. There was no choice.

Staying with Tucker was going to kill her.

Ella might not be the sharpest tool in the shed. She confessed to leading an indulged and luxurious life, but she was bright enough to know where this would end if she supplicated.

"Is this a ploy for me to untie you again?" His tone was knowing, sending anxiety rampaging around her body. "Because I need to be able to trust you, little girl, and after last night, I don't."

Had she not been so despairing, she might have snorted at his comment. The idea that Tucker—the man who'd agreed to take her as his hostage—was suspicious of her was preposterous. If anyone should have mistrust in the dynamic, it was her, not him.

"So, I lose the feeling in them altogether?" So much for contrived deference. Her voice dripped with disdain as she lifted her face to meet his stare. "Is that the plan, sir?" She added the final word as an insurance policy. He was more likely to overlook her tone if she played along with his absurd game. "Because what good will I be to you then?" Her breaths sped up as she considered how she'd cope if he didn't release her. "How good is your warranty if I'm injured or disabled?"

"You're being over dramatic." His reply sounded unimpressed. "Probably because you're exhausted. Let's get you back inside and rested."

"No!" She shook her head, burying her nails in the dirt. "I'm going to be sick again."

"So, be sick." He threw his hands out to his sides as though he was close to giving up. "I said that already."

"Can I have a drink of water, please, sir?" It was her last-ditch attempt at distraction, and that's what she needed to escape. With Tucker's attention on her solely, she'd never get away. "My throat feels like sandpaper."

The reality was that she would have loved a cold drink to soothe her throat—despite her most recent associations with Tucker and cups of water—but she'd go without if it meant sending Tucker in the other direction and enabling her to flee when his back was turned.

"Really?" He eyed her skeptically, presumably torn between her totally reasonable request and his patent distrust. Ella had already run once, and she was manifestly unhappy. No doubt, he realized that the chances of her fleeing again were high.

"Pl-please." Her voice was hoarse as she spluttered the word into the ground. Her only hope was convincing him that she was so ill that she wouldn't contemplate making a break for it. "It would help me a lot."

"I'm not leaving you here untended." His attention slid from her to the cabin. The tap was less than a minute from where she'd collapsed, but they both knew he'd have to go inside to find a cup for her to drink from. "If you want water, you'll have to play by my rules."

She rolled her eyes at the verdict, ignoring the stabbing pain in her stomach as her gaze drilled into the dirt. What a surprise. So far, it had been Tucker's rules or no way at all.

"Okay." What choice was there but to play along again? She didn't know what his latest requirements would be, but saying yes was the only opportunity for escape.

"You'll have to stand." He thrust out a palm toward her. "Can you manage that?"

"I'll try." Lifting her hand, she placed it on his large palm and allowed him to take her weight as she struggled to her feet. The world spun faster around her as she pulled in deep breaths.

"That's good." His voice was almost soothing as he steered her back toward the tree trunk. "I'll need your arms in the air."

Arms in the air?Her brow furrowed as he guided her hands up and over her head. What the hell was he doing—robbing her?

"How are you feeling?" He stretched her arms until her biceps skimmed her ears. Unsure what was happening, she risked a glance at her hands to find the ropes still binding them slid over the top of one of the tree's low branches. Tucker had effectively used the branch to immobilize her.

Fuck.Dread curled in her chest as she realized she was once again restrained. He'd found a way to hold her while he went to retrieve the water.

"Little girl?" His curt tone drew her focus back to his face. His blue eyes bored into her, searching for any sign that she might vomit again. "How do you feel?"

"Dazed."

It was the most honest thing she'd said since she'd crawled her way to the fresh air. The weight of everything that had transpired seemed piled on her shoulders. It might have compelled her to her knees had the branch not supported her weight.

"Yeah." His lips twitched. "You look it."

Great.She suppressed the urge to counter his retort with one of her own. It would do her no good.

Instead, she forced her gaze back to the offending bough and took a moment to assess it properly. The branch wasn't as big or sturdy as she initially thought. Perhaps Tucker had been fooled into thinking she was weaker than she really was, or maybe she was the fool? Maybe if she tried to drag the ropes to the end of the twig, she'd simply fall on her face?

No.She clenched her teeth. That won't happen. I can do it! I'll haul the ropes free from the end of the branch and get away. If I'm lucky, the branch might even weaken the fibers of the rope.

"That should hold you." His chuckle reverberated along her spine as though it was set on mocking her. He didn't seem to know what she was thinking. Either she was a better actress than she'd realized, or he was getting complacent. "I'll go and get you water." His hand rose to her chin and steadied her gaze as he went on. "After that, we'll head back to the cabin."

There was no malice in his voice, and in some distant part of herself, Ella acknowledged the pang of guilt that echoed inside. She was duping him—again—but what else could she do? The man had taken her prisoner, bound her, and made her call him ‘sir.' Ella had no choice. She would do whatever it took to get away.

"Okay, sir." Her head fell forward, dismissing the sight of him until only the tips of his boots were visible.

"I'll be back soon." He turned and walked away, once again leaving her dangling, but this time was different.

This time, he'd made a miscalculation.

Tucker had underestimated her.

This time, Ella would win.