Two

TWO

Aweek and a half later found her in a deserted park looking like a bag lady. She’d had to be forcibly removed from her apartment. She’d been to all the employment agencies, but the only things available—she was overqualified for. What did that even mean? If you could do more, couldn’t you just as easily do less and take the pay cut?

She’d ended up taking only a couple of bags of personal belongings; paying for storage would only get her in a soup kitchen line sooner. She’d thought about selling her stuff on eBay, but the logistics of running an online store from a cheap hotel room while she was running out of money stopped her. She’d be robbed blind if she brought most of that stuff to where she was currently staying, anyway.

It was only a matter of time before the money ran out, and she didn’t want to think about what would happen then.

“Ronnie?”

Veronica looked up to see Luke standing in front of her, as physically appealing as ever, while she was doing a great impersonation of a homeless person. She knew she looked like a deer in headlights. There was no other way to look. This wasn’t a public place. Technically it was, but the public was out doing other things. She and the cowboy were alone.

He sighed. “It’s only been a few days. What could have gone this far south in that period of time? Surely you have savings, friends, family... ?”

She didn’t want to give him any information but she was sure the expression on her face answered all of his questions. He sat beside her on the bench, and she inched away, trying not to be obvious about it.

“Has somebody hurt you? Is that why you’re scared of me?”

“No. You’re a stranger. And we’re alone. Isn’t that enough?” She left off the part about him watching her, and probably following her, and all the creepy pieces that added up to freaking her out. It was more than a little weird that he was pursuing her like this, offering her a job when she had zero experience of anything that wasn’t in a city.

“Maybe,” he said, unconvinced. “Anyway, I want to show you something.”

She jumped again when he reached in his pocket, but all he came out with was a phone. “I want to show you the ranch. We just set up the website last week. Would you like to see it? Maybe you could help keep it updated.”

Veronica nodded slowly, not liking the way she was being pulled into his trap one answer and small capitulation at a time. He pulled the site up and handed her the phone. The sun began to set, and she was uncomfortably aware of that fact. It would be dark soon. She needed to get away from him and back to her room and the small bit of safety life still afforded her.

She flipped through the pages of the site, getting hungrier with each page. They sold grass-fed beef, as well as milk, cheese, and butter. There were pictures of food that made her want to beg him to take her with him despite the danger he posed. She’d been rationing money for food, afraid for when it ran out. Wasn’t staying in New York the tiger? What if both doors had tigers of different breeds—grisly death either way?

“There are lots of things you could do out there. We’d keep you busy and well fed.”

“Why are you doing this? I was a jerk to you, and I have no ranch-related skills.”

He looked away, but she’d seen his eyes before he’d managed it. He wanted her. She didn’t know why, and she didn’t really care. It was pure animal lust, and going with him meant one way or another she’d end up in his bed.

“I just want to help you.”

She handed the phone back to him, a chill going down her spine as the sun sank beneath the trees. She felt torn. A part of her wanted to ask him to walk her back to her room, but she didn’t feel safe with him, either: then he’d know where she slept at night.

“I’m sorry, I really can’t. I’ll be fine.”

He sighed deeply and stood. “All right. You still have my card?”

Veronica nodded. She’d held that card in her hands, staring at it for days now, wanting it to be a real safety net but too afraid it was a trap. She’d never been the woman who trusted pretty strangers. Women around her would get drunk at bars and trustingly go home with strange men because they were attractive, and therefore somehow safe. Veronica had never looked at things that way. Strangers were strangers. Men you didn’t know were men you couldn’t trust. And what did she know about men you could trust? Nothing. For all she knew, such men were a fairy tale.

“If you change your mind, call me. I’ll come get you.”

He started to walk away, and for a hysterical moment she wanted to beg him to take her with him. Judging by the way her house of cards had fallen around her, it was fuck him for room and board or fuck strangers. Stripping would be an option right before it got that dire, but she wasn’t sure she could stand on a stage and shed her clothing while men ogled her. It seemed almost as bad as sex with strangers for money.

He’d gotten several yards away when he cursed, turned around, and came right for her. There was purpose and determination on his face that froze her to the bench, immobilizing her even down to her vocal cords. By the time she worked up a scream, his hand was over her mouth.

“Sorry, Ronnie, you’re coming with me.”

Instinctively she bit his hand, and just as instinctively he smacked her, but he didn’t look sorry. That scared her more than anything else. He hadn’t hit her hard, and didn’t look like he would do it again, but the look in his eyes—the look that dared her to challenge him right now—was enough.

“Fine. Scream. My truck’s not far.”

She kicked desperately out at him, but he swept an arm under her legs and scooped her up. Even with her wriggling and struggling, he made it back to the truck.

He’d left the doors unlocked, probably something he’d grown used to in Vermont. Unluckily for her, some thug hadn’t stolen it. She screamed one last time before he shoved her into the passenger side. Moments later, rope from the trunk was being tied around her wrists and ankles. He pulled out a knife, and she shrank back.

“I’m cutting the rope, not you. Relax.”

Relax!?

“Ask again why I’m afraid of you.” She couldn’t stop the tears streaming down her cheeks.

“This is just so you don’t hurt me or wreck us. That’s it. Judging from the state you were in just a week after you were fired, if I left you, you’d die in a ditch or be raped in an alley.”

“How do I know that fate doesn’t await me with you?”

“Guess you’ll have to start being nicer to me.”

He took the second length of rope and pulled her wrists down and tied them to her ankles. The rope was long enough that she could sit up properly in the car, but not long enough for her to hold her arms up to get the attention of other motorists.

Five minutes later he started the engine. It was fully dark now.

“Just let me go.” She tried her best to stay calm, but the act was failing miserably.

“No.”

“Are you going to kill me?”

“Don’t be silly. Why would I kill you?”

She snorted. “Why would you kidnap me?”

“Because you clearly can’t take care of yourself. Now I’ve got a place for you where you’ll be fed and safe instead of out on the streets like a crack addict.”

“Are you going to keep me tied up?”

“No. I told you, I have work for you. You’ll be doing work.”

“Like hell, you cretin. I’m not your slave.”

He glanced in the rear view and pulled onto the interstate. “Let me ask you something. Do you have any friends you can stay with?” He had to know the answer to that, given how he’d found her—assuming he hadn’t followed her the whole week. He was just tormenting her.

“No. I have, or had, coworkers.”

“Why don’t you have friends? Could it be your charming personality?”

Veronica stared out the window into the night as it blurred by. So much for her lady or the tiger choice. She tried not to cry when she answered. “I worked long hours, so I didn’t have time for much of a social life. What time I did have was spent with coworkers, and I never let them get too close.”

“Why not?”

“I got into financial trouble and lost my penthouse. Status is a big deal in my circle. I couldn’t let them know I was living in such a bad apartment. They aren’t the kind of friends that would let you crash at their place, anyway.” The walls around her personal bubble had dissolved in light of being kidnapped. Now, talking—making him see her as human—felt like her only shot at survival. He hadn’t taken her to help her. He’d taken her because he wanted her. He’d come in like some barbarian and scooped her up as if she were the spoils of war.

“Are you still living in the apartment?”

She shot him a look. “No, I’ve been abducted.”

A small grin inched up his face. At least it didn’t look like a serial killer grin. She hoped.

“You know what I mean.”

“No, I was evicted about a month ago. The day I got fired I had three days left there.”

“So where were you living when I saw you tonight?”

“A hotel. Not a really nice one, but not seedy enough that I felt unsafe sleeping.”

“I see.”

They were quiet for several miles. Veronica decided not to waste her energy fighting him right now. Taking her across state lines was bad, but he’d have to stop for gas or a bathroom break at some point. If she just waited, she’d have her opportunity, assuming she could move like this or find something to cut through the ropes.

“Do you have family?” he asked.

“No.”

“Dead?”

“That’s rude.”

“I learned it from you.”

She sighed. “My mom is overseas. I don’t even have her phone number. My dad left.”

“When?”

“A long time ago.”

Veronica sat perfectly still, reviewing the past few minutes of conversation. In her attempt to seem human, she’d made it clear what easy prey she was. No family. No friends. No one to miss her. She’d just given him everything he needed. Now he could do whatever he wanted with her and no one would make a call. No one would file a missing person report. No one would be looking for her.

“You should have had savings,” he said. “With what you were probably making, there’s no excuse for—”

“Hey! I don’t have to listen to this shit. You’re breaking the law, and you’re probably going to kill me, so on top of that I don’t have to listen to your stupid bullshit. My business is my business. You got it?” The shot of bravery was stupid.

He pulled the car over on the shoulder, and leaned in so close that when he spoke, his warm breath feathered out against her face. “Princess, you have to listen to whatever I say you have to listen to. I took you because I wanted you. All right? Sheer want. I rode up and rescued your ass, and when I’m finished with you, you’ll politely thank me for it.”

Veronica reeled back like she’d been slapped again. “Fine. I fucking hate men. Sandy called it. You bully. You shove your weight around. I never feel safe anywhere I go alone because I might come across a man like you. And even if I’m not around a man like you, I have to worry that maybe that’s what I’ve stumbled upon. I can never feel safe walking through a park at night, or on an elevator with a man alone, or in a parking garage...”

“Who hurt you?”

“Besides you?”

“Oh, I haven’t hurt you, yet.”

The yet hung on the air, the darkest threat of the night so far.

Tears slid down her cheeks.

“Answer my question.”

“No one.”

He eased back and she could finally breathe again, then he turned the key in the ignition and pulled back onto the road.

* * *

Veronica wokewith a jolt when the car door slammed. The clock on the dashboard indicated it was close to midnight.

“You fell asleep, princess.”

“Stop calling me that.”

The gas station he’d stopped at was deserted, with only one flickering light over the gas pump. The night clerk looked like he’d done his fair share of felony, so no help there.

“Are you hungry?”

She’d been hungry since Luke had found her in the park hours ago. She watched him, afraid to look any weaker than she already looked.

“I got you chips and a drink. You’ll eat better when we get home.” He opened both the chips and soda and passed them to her.

“Could you untie me?”

“Not until we get home.”

“I have to pee.”

“Not here.”

“I really have to go.”

“Just eat your snack. I’ll find a place.”

She bent awkwardly forward to eat, her tied hands making it difficult. She wished she was lying about having to use the bathroom. If he stopped on the side of the road somewhere and watched her, she’d die from the humiliation.

“I hope you like BBQ,” he said. “I didn’t know what kind to get. You were asleep.”

She did like BBQ, but if he was starting to feel guilty for the situation, she wasn’t about to assuage his guilt with a show of gratitude. Somehow in her mind, everything that had happened was her fault. If she’d managed her money better, she wouldn’t have been so stressed and lost her job. She would have been living in the penthouse still, and she would have made a nice breakfast in her big kitchen with the island oven before work that day. Her path and psycho-cowboy’s path never would have crossed. He would have gone back to Vermont without her ever meeting him, and she’d have a raise, and the coveted corner office with the giant windows and spectacular view.

As they drove and she ate, her mind went down other weird paths to Sandy. She wondered how Sandy would have taken this situation if she’d been in Veronica’s place. Sandy would have stupidly taken the job, eager for the cowboy to take her off to his cattle ranch and ride her. Veronica shuddered.

“Are you cold? I can turn on some heat.”

“No, I’m fine.” Though she could admit in a sort of detached way that he was attractive, it was hard to see him that way when he’d taken her like he had. All she wanted was to escape and then punish him for demeaning her like this. Tying her up, treating her like part of his herd of cattle. It made her seethe with rage.

To her surprise, fifteen minutes later he pulled into a rest stop—not the side of the road. She was almost willing to be more agreeable given that he wasn’t going to make her squat in a ditch to pee while he watched.

“This stretch of road is usually pretty dead this time of night. We are going in, and you will not waste time. As you’ve mentioned, I’m in the process of committing a felony. I have no illusions you’d protect me if someone stopped us. I’m taking a risk so you don’t have to suffer. Remember that.”

He untied her and rubbed the soreness out of her ankles and wrists. It felt like a prelude to how he planned to touch her later. He helped her out of the truck and followed her into the restroom, then leaned against the wall outside one of the stalls.

“Don’t think about running. You have even less chance of surviving out here than you do in the city.”

She wanted to kill him.

“Are you just going to stand out here and... listen?”

“That’s the plan. Hop to it, princess.”

“Just go ahead and kill me here. It’ll save us both time and embarrassment.”

“Did you just make a joke?” he asked.

“Maybe.”

“So you trust I’m not going to hurt you?”

“What? No, I don’t trust that. Do you think I’m that stupid?” She shut herself into one of the stalls and locked the door, hoping he wouldn’t crawl under after her.

“I thought you were stupid for isolating yourself, not asking for help, and refusing help that was offered.”

Veronica tried to relax, not believing she was in this situation to begin with. The fear had taken a brief backseat to the embarrassment.

When she stepped out of the stall, he said “That was all? Squirt squirt? And you’re done?”

“I have a tiny bladder.”

She looked at him in the mirror behind her while she washed her hands. He seemed momentarily distracted so she broke off in a run, glad she’d worn tennis shoes and jeans so she could move. Her heart beat erratically as she ran over a couple of hills and into the woods, more scared of the man at her back than the uncertain forest in front of her.

He yelled behind her, but she kept running. Trees came to life, their snarled branches grabbing at her, scratching at her arms, pulling at her shirt in an attempt to rip it. The trees might assault her before Luke ever got the chance. After a minute or so, the patch of trees thinned into a meadow littered with wildflowers—an unexpectedly beautiful sight in the middle of so much ugliness. She couldn’t help looking up for just a moment. The sky opened out before her, vast and fathomless. The night was cold and clear, and the stars and full moon illuminated everything. For a surreal split second she felt more free than she’d ever felt.

Then she was on the ground, and he was on top of her, and she came back to herself.

“Get off me!” She struggled and wedged her knee between his legs, driving hard into his groin.

He cursed and eased off her for a second. It was enough for her to roll onto her stomach and scramble out from under him. Her hands dug into the grass for purchase as she crawled from between his legs. But she wasn’t fast enough.

She let out a shriek when he pulled her hair and threw her back down to the ground, this time straddling her hard enough that she couldn’t get away.

Her shoulder felt bruised from where she’d hit the ground, and his knees dug hard into her hips, pinning her with little effort.

“Please...” The word came out of her in a broken sob. It was the first time she’d begged him, and she hated herself for thinking it might not be the last. “Don’t hurt me.” The words were so soft she wasn’t sure if he’d heard her.

He breathed hard. “Why did you stop running?”

She hadn’t expected that question. At least he understood that she had to attempt escape.

“The sky.”

He looked up, and if he hadn’t had her arms held down, she might have tried to punch him, but the odds weren’t in her favor this time. Don’t escalate the situation anymore. Get away if you can, but don’t escalate. Wait for the next opportunity.

But she feared she’d only get the one opportunity. And now it was gone, lost because she couldn’t help being swept away by the awe-inspiring beauty of nature. No city lights. No city noise. No dark buildings threatening to crush her. Just the sky and the stars and a million brilliant tiny white flowers glowing in the moonlight.

“You’ll love the ranch. This is our sky.”

She didn’t say anything to that because anyone who would do something like this had to be so mad she couldn’t trust anything he said. He helped her to her feet and led her back to the truck. She didn’t try to pull away; his grip was far too tight for that.

“Am I in trouble?” She didn’t know how else to phrase it—how else to ask him if there would be retaliation for running.

“It was my fault for being distracted. You were going to follow your nature. But you won’t have another opportunity like that.”

When he got her secured in the truck, he noticed the bloody trails down her arms.

“Trees got you pretty bad. I’ve got something for that.” He rummaged through the truck bed and came back with a first aid kit. “Hold your arms out.”

There was nothing left to do but try to appease him and pretend she’d learned her lesson. He took a small bottle of hydrogen peroxide from the case and poured it over the cuts.

“Ow.”

“Some of these are a little deep. It only stings for a minute.” Then he did the craziest thing. He leaned in and blew on her arms, like a mother trying to soothe the sting on a child’s scraped knee—not that she’d ever had that kind of mother. But she’d seen them in commercials.

Only one of her arms was scraped badly enough to wrap in gauze, but she still felt like a mummy when he’d finished. Then he got back in the driver’s side and started the truck up.

“We’re two hours from the ranch,” he said, as if putting a fine point on the fact that her last chance to escape had just slipped past.

In the thirty minutes they’d been at the rest stop, not one other vehicle had come by.

* * *

It wastwo o’clock in the morning when they reached the ranch. The white house stood two stories with a wraparound porch on the bottom floor as well as on the top, creating an extended second-story balcony. There were two doors on the second floor that opened out onto the shared balcony.

“The room on your left is mine. You’ll sleep in the other room,” Luke said.

“I get my own room?” She wanted to smack herself for asking that question.

“I told you I’d take care of you.” He hadn’t actually said those words, but he seemed to feel the implication had been heavy. “You’ll get to see more tomorrow in daylight. It’s late. We usually go to bed a lot earlier than this.”

He came over to her side and opened her door. Before he untied her, he took her shoes. “Wouldn’t want you to run off now, would we?”

After he’d untied her, he turned his back and went up to the front porch. “Coming, princess?”

Veronica stepped gingerly out of the truck and slammed the door. It was hard to see in the dark, even as big as the sky and as bright as the moon. She stood in the dirt by the truck, looking off into the night, wondering how far she’d have to go to reach rescue. She took a few tentative steps toward the unknown blackness and stopped, afraid to go farther in bare feet.

“Better than an electric fence,” he said, as if she were an unruly poodle.

She took a few more steps away from him. The fear of what she’d encounter, what might slither over her foot or bite her, or what broken glass or rusty nail she might step on, was enough that she wouldn’t go far, but his words had made it impossible for her to stop yet. Was she really more afraid of walking on the ground without shoes than of this man? So far, yes. That answer might be different later when it was too late.

“What are you going back to?” he taunted. “A motel room until the money runs out? Then where? On the streets? In a ditch? Under a bridge? Giving blow jobs in back alleys to buy groceries?”

She turned back toward him but didn’t move from her spot. “Will I be doing that here?”

Luke looked thoughtful. “I haven’t decided what you’ll do, but I can promise you’ll love every second of it.”

Something low in her stomach twinged against her will at that statement. She turned back toward the blackness and took another couple of steps.

“There’s nothing for you out there. There is something here. If you give it some time, you’ll see that.”

Aside from the tying-her-up part, he wasn’t acting like a crazed kidnapper. He wasn’t roughing her up or pushing her around or yelling or cursing at her. He seemed content to wait for her to step into the house of her own accord, but she wasn’t sure she could do that.

Tears started to stream down her cheeks. “Give it some time? Just accept this? I didn’t come here freely. You could do anything with me, and I’m supposed to be happy about that?”

There had to be a phone in his house. And if there was a phone, there would have to be an unguarded moment where she could call the police. But he was right. What was she going home to? Were the police going to give her a nice roof over her head and food? They wouldn’t give her anything. But Luke might kill her or rape her. But did she really think those things were unlikely back in the city with nowhere to go? What about when the money ran out?

“What about the guys who work for you?” she asked.

“What about them?”

“They’ll tell someone.”

He laughed. “No, princess, they won’t. We speak the same language. They’ll take my side. So save yourself the trouble of resurrecting any high school acting technique. It won’t do any good.”

It took another twenty minutes before she could make herself turn toward Luke and the house. He leaned against the post on the porch, his arms crossed over his chest as if he had all the time in the world. When she started moving toward him, he turned and headed inside.

He flipped on the lights as they went through the lower level of the house.

“What am I going to wear?”

“I’ve got some clothes upstairs that will probably fit you.”

“Whose?”

He was silent for a few minutes as if he were fumbling for a way to tell her. “The last woman who lived here.”

“Did you kill her?”

“No. Get off this killing kick. I’m not a killer.”

“Are you a rapist?”

His eyes raked over her. “Probably by your definitions, but not by the definition of any woman who’s ever been in my bed.”

“What happened to her? Did you let her go?”

“I don’t want to talk about Trish.” His voice came out clipped, and she dropped the subject.

Luke stopped at a bathroom tucked at the back of the house. He pushed it open without turning the knob, and Veronica realized the latch didn’t catch.

“This is the only bathroom with a tub.” He sat on the edge of the claw-foot tub and fiddled with the knobs, holding his hand under to check the temperature. “Come here.”

Veronica froze in the doorway. “Why?”

Hard eyes locked on hers. “Come. Here. Don’t make me ask again.”

She took a couple of tentative steps into the small room. When she was close enough, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her over to the tub. “Tell me if the temperature is okay. Too hot? Too cool?”

The toughness leeched out of her as the realization of how much danger she was in finally registered. “I-it’s fine. But, I-I can’t take a bath here. The door doesn’t latch, you could come in, and...”

He stood, towering over her. He must’ve been six feet five and solid muscle. “When you’re finished, you’ll put on the bathrobe hanging on the back of the door.”

She looked down at the tile floor. “Please, I-I can’t.”

“Honey, we’re in the middle of bumfuck in case you haven’t noticed. I’m about ten times stronger than you. I could have you at any moment I chose, no matter what you started out wearing or what you were doing, so get in the goddamn tub. I know you’re tired and exhausted and stressed, just soak for awhile, and I’ll make us some food.”

He mercifully left her then.

She sat on the toilet lid while the water ran, and finally shut it off when she couldn’t stall any longer. She heard clanging about in the kitchen. She’d have to bathe eventually. If the door didn’t latch, it didn’t latch. Did she believe she was going to be able to go long here with all of her clothes on? She’d seen the way he’d looked at her in the diner that first day. He’d no doubt been planning to take her even then. Losing her job was just an excuse for him to take advantage of a bad situation.

Finally she pushed the door shut and peeled her clothes off. She took a washcloth from a basket on the floor and wet it to wash the dirt off her feet, then she sank into the hot water, careful to keep her wrapped arm out of the tub. Whatever plans he had for her, he hadn’t lashed out in anger when she’d run. Even after she’d kneed him in the groin, he’d only subdued her struggling. He’d tended to her wounds. How bad could he be? And he wasn’t repulsive, at least, which was much better than she would have gotten on the streets.

Something deep inside her rose up, growling over the fact that she’d rationalize and stop at anything short of killing him. He couldn’t do this to her. Whatever century he was living in, she wasn’t his chattel.

A soap dish with homemade peppermint soap had been attached to the edge of the tub. She lathered up and closed her eyes, breathing in the scent, trying to calm her heart rate and form a plan. She jumped when the door was pushed open and rushed to cover herself.

Luke stood in the doorway in jeans and bare feet, his cowboy hat, boots, and shirt long gone. “That’s a syndet bar so you can use it for your hair, too. It’s got goat’s milk and coconut oil in it. It makes your hair soft.”

If he’d been using the soap for that purpose himself, he was an excellent advertisement for it. She flushed and looked away. “Don’t look at me.”

“I’ll see you soon enough.”

The tears started again, but he ignored them.

“I’m making burgers, so be quick about it.” He shut the door softly behind him.

Her legs shook as she stood and pulled the drain on the tub. Whatever he planned to do to her, she wished he’d just do it. The anticipation was scaring her more than whatever he intended. She dried off with a towel from the basket and then put the bathrobe on. She wanted to put her normal clothes back on, but she was afraid he’d stop being nice. His kindness might be a mask, but the longer he wore it, the longer she lived.

Except for tying her up in the truck, he hadn’t been cruel to her. He’d let her use the bathroom, given her a snack, patched up her scratches...

She tied the belt as tightly as she could, even though she knew it wouldn’t stop him. The old hardwood floors creaked as she made her way into the kitchen. It was a throwback to the past, with appliances that looked like they were from the fifties and a green-and-white tile floor. The walls were a bright, sunflower yellow, and there were green gingham curtains on the windows. It was what she imagined a farmhouse kitchen would look like.

“Sit.”

He brought over the burgers and some chips and sodas.

“Eat.”

“Stop barking orders at me.”

He arched a brow. “I saved you from starving in a ditch, I’ll bark all the orders I want. Now eat.”

Veronica stared at the burger. Every tiny demand she gave into was one step closer to... something. She didn’t know what, exactly, but it felt that each time she did what she was told, they moved further along some plan known only to Luke. A plan to rebuild her? To unmake her? Part of her thought he might not kill her. What would be the point? If he were a serial killer, wouldn’t she already be locked in the basement?

“I’m losing patience, Veronica.” His voice had dropped a register, and it was the first time he’d spoken her given first name.

“What if I say no?”

“Then I’ll spank you.” There was no hint of teasing or amusement in his voice. The statement had been matter-of-fact as if it were an obvious conclusion that any thinking person would reach. What did you do with a woman who didn’t eat her burger on command? Of course you spanked her.

She gawked at him, her mouth dropped open. “Excuse me? You’ll WHAT?” Like hell he was going to spank her. She’d fight him until he killed her.

“You heard me. Eat your burger. There’s no need for things to be unpleasant.”

“Let me just say, you’re about the creepiest little fucker I’ve ever met.”

“Big fucker,” he said around a mouthful of burger.

“What?”

“I’m the creepiest big fucker you’ve ever met. I’m six and a half feet tall. No one uses the word little when describing me. Eat.”

She sat for another minute trying to determine if he meant the threat. The look in his eyes said he did. Was refusing to eat when she was hungry really worth dying over? Veronica took a bite. It was the best burger she’d ever eaten, and not just because she’d been eating cheap food for a week and had only had chips and a coke for the last ten hours.

“Now, you will call me Sir.”

“Excuse me?”

He sighed. “Ronnie, you’re making me tired. I’ve had a long day. If you interrupt me every time I speak, we’ll be up until the roosters start. And they’ll be starting in about two hours.”

“That’s before dawn.”

“Welcome to the ranch.”

She went back to her burger, trying to ignore the company and the fact that the way he was treating her, though offensive, was having a fucked-up effect. She was sure if—no when—he hurt her, it would snap her back to reality, but for now, his low voice, good looks, and semi-barbaric ways were sending her spiraling back into fantasy world.

“You’ll have chores here. You’ll also be cooking for me and the guys. You’ll keep the house tidy, and you’ll tend to the garden in the backyard. We don’t sell the produce; it’s just for us. We don’t eat a lot from the grocery store, some snack foods here and there and soft drinks. Most of our meat, eggs, and dairy comes from here or our neighbors and our produce comes from the garden. The growing season is short so we also have a pretty big greenhouse. Any questions?”

“I’m not going to be your happy domestic slave. I don’t live to serve men.” In real life she had barely been able to stand Joe as her boss at the ad agency. And she’d never called Joe sir. Her first two years at the agency it had been a woman, but then she’d run off to Australia with her boyfriend. The fact that Veronica would be the only woman here, waiting on them all hand and foot, caused an indignant rebellion to rise up in her. She didn’t know how long she could play nice with this psycho.

“All right, get in the truck. I’ll take you back to the city and you can die in a ditch or turn to prostitution and drugs to dull the horror of it all.”

Would he really take her back to the city? If he meant it, she wanted to take the offer and get away, but his forecast of prostitution and drugs felt too true and close to the mark to take the bait. It might not be any better out there.

“Don’t you intend to use me like that?”

“When the time is right, and I feel you’re ready to be a good slut, absolutely.”

She cringed at the way he spoke to her, rough and calloused like his hands. “What you’ve done and what you obviously plan to do is wrong.”

“It’s wrong to feed you and give you shelter and productive work?”

“That’s not what you’re doing.”

“Isn’t it?” He took his plate to the sink. “See you in the morning, princess.”

Veronica was left alone in the kitchen with only the grandfather clock in the other room for company. She couldn’t believe he’d left her unattended. Of course she wasn’t going to run away without her shoes, but there had to be shoes somewhere in this house. Or a phone.

She scanned the kitchen, but all she found was a place where a phone used to hang on the wall. Searching the lower level didn’t produce a phone either. She winced every time she stepped on the wrong wooden board, causing a loud creak to sound throughout the house. Luke leaned over the upstairs railing.

“If you’re looking for a phone, I only have a cell, and it’s locked in my safe in the bedroom.”

So much for that, but she still had the other plan. She’d have to wait until he fell asleep. Even as she thought it, the prospect of actually making it back to New York sounded awful. So far he hadn’t harmed her. What would be her fate in the city with such limited resources? Though by this point she could stand the humiliation of going back to Joe and begging for her job back, if the job still existed. She could see a credit counselor and get her life back on track.

If the slow downward spiral from her penthouse to the apartment with the ugly brick view hadn’t changed her thinking, the past week of genuine fear for her ability to survive much longer the way she was going had. Jimmy Choos, Manolo Blahniks, and all the other frivolity seemed like just that.

She turned the knob of the door for the bedroom he’d assigned her. She was still confused that he hadn’t thrown her down and raped her.

A silver, antique full-length mirror stood in one corner of the room. The wallpaper was a light blue-and-white stripe. The furniture was painted white: a chest of drawers, a vanity, a night stand, and a full-sized bed. The carpet was light blue to match the wallpaper.

Veronica guessed there was hardwood underneath. For a crazy second she wondered if the carpet covered evidence of something gruesome. The closet, also white, was filled with sundresses for the summer, both long and short, as well as jeans and sweaters for the winter. But no shoes. Not a single pair of shoes was in the closet or under the bed. A chill went down her spine. If she’d had any doubts before, now she knew—Trish had been a prisoner as well.