The Heart Has Reasons by Martine Marchand Read Free Book Online Page B

into view at
any moment, but maybe he turned on by watching women urinate.  More
likely, what turned him on was slicing women into pieces.  He didn’t seem like a sadistic murderer, but then, apparently neither had Ted Bundy.
    And
what the hell had happened?  One moment he was unarmed, she’d glanced away
for just an instant, and when she’d looked back, he’d been pointing a big-ass
gun at her.  After his little speech about knowing how to administer pain,
she was surprised he hadn’t hurt her.
    Maybe
she should have forced him to shoot her, since a quick death from a bullet
might be preferable to whatever lay ahead.  He claimed someone had paid
him to deliver her.  If true, then that someone could only be Sparrow, in
which case she’d prefer a bullet.  However, she didn’t know for certain it
was Sparrow and, until she did, she’d do everything in her power to stay alive.
    As
she stood up and flushed, she checked the window.  Multiple layers of
paint sealed it shut, so she’d have to break out the glass. Opening the faucet,
she glanced toward the open doorway.  There was no sign of him so, while
water ran into the rust-stained sink, she squinted through the grimy glass at
the darkness beyond.  Silvery moonlight barely illuminated a brushy
field.  Trying to run barefoot through it in the dark would be arduous,
not to mention painful, while his booted feet would find it much easier. 
He’d catch her, kill her and, leaving her there for the scavengers, get in his
vehicle and drive off.
    In
any case, hearing the glass break, he’d be in there before she could scramble
out the small opening.  She stuck her hands under the running water, shut
the faucet off, and dried off on a threadbare towel before returning to the
room.
    Two
kitchen garbage bags now sat upon the bed.  When she cast a questioning
glance at her kidnapper, he explained, “Before we left your house, I took the
liberty of packing for you.”
    Crossing
to the bed, she opened one of the bags.  At the sight of her purse lying
atop assorted clothing, her heartbeat suddenly accelerated.  Might he have
overlooked her phone?  If so, she’d have to wait for a window of
opportunity to use it.  With deliberate casualness, she sat the purse
aside.
    Almost
as if he’d read her mind, he remarked, “I removed your cell.  You’ll find
it and your two handguns in the drawer next to your kitchen sink.”
    Goddamn
the asshole.  In the bag, four cotton sport bras lay on top of a stack of
cotton panties.  In addition to the underclothes, he’d packed multiple
pairs of yoga pants and tee shirts.  Her athletic shoes were on the
bottom.  “You went through all my drawers?”
    “Would
you have preferred to wear the clothes you have on for the next four days?”
    No,
she wouldn’t, but that was beside the freaking point.  Well, at least he’d
brought comfortable clothing.  And the absence of sexy lingerie was
marginally reassuring.  Of course, he might be saving those as a future
surprise.
    In
the second bag she found an assortment of toiletries, comb, brush, toothbrush,
and blow dryer.  A flood of relief made her go weak in the knees. 
That he’d gone to the trouble of bringing these things was yet another
indication that he wasn’t planning to kill her.
    “Grab
a change of clothes and go into the bathroom.”  When she simply stood
there, he locked a hard, unblinking gaze on her that accelerated her
heartbeat.  Even if he didn’t intend to kill her, that didn’t mean he
wouldn’t hurt her, so it would be prudent to pretend submissive compliance
until an opportunity for escape presented itself.
    Carrying
the bag of toiletries, handcuffs, and a length of cotton rope, he followed her
into the tiny bathroom.  “Turn around.”
    “Is
it really necessary to tie me up?”
    The
corner of his mouth quirked up.  “Unless you’d like to shower with me.”
    Asshole. 
In order to escape, she might have to attack and disablehim. 
Although