“Fine, give me your gun and I’ll take care of it then.”
There was a brief moment of silence, and then Manhandler said, “Is there stupid written on my forehead?”
“I’m not sure. Let me take off my blindfold and check.”
“Touch it and you’re going to be the proud owner of a new hole. Regrettably, of course.”
“Of course. Thanks for the warning… I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”
Elise could hear the faint smile in his voice when he said, “I’m going to have to keep a closer eye on you.”
Yeah, he would. Apparently, Elise could give as good as she got. The more Manhandler pushed against her defenses, the more she pushed against his. There was a power struggle going on between them…and she liked it.
“So, are you going to sit here and guard me forever, or can I take a shower and get something to eat?” Elise waited patiently while Manhandler worked to get over his shock and come up with an answer. Secure in the knowledge that he wasn’t going to outright kill her, despite his claim to do so—how would he get to know her if she was dead?—Elise all but smiled. She had some wiggle room that helped alleviate the worst of her fears. For the moment, anyway.
“You have ten minutes. Try anything and I’ll—”
“Give me a new hole. I heard you the first time,” Elise droned.
Grabbing her by the arm, Manhandler manhandled her out of the room muttering, “Have to keep an extra close eye on you…”
Chapter Six
A good shower has the power to wake a person up and get them ready for the day ahead. A great shower makes a person feel transformed. Elise was enjoying the latter, because there was nothing quite like a hot and refreshing shower after far too many hours spent in the same clothes and cooped up in a dank cabin on an ages old mattress filled with God only knew what kind of vermin.
Elise only wished she had fresh clothing to dress in when she was finished. The idea of putting on the same underwear was appalling, but she didn’t have much choice in the matter, unless she wanted to go commando—which she didn’t. Especially considering her current situation.
Matters were only made worse when Manhandler, King of the Assholes, informed her that he would not be leaving her alone to perform her business. In fact, after a loud shouting match and many threats of bodily harm issued from both of them, she’d been all but shoved into the shower stall. He’d then told her she had five seconds to strip or he’d do it himself. Then he’d slammed the sliding glass door so hard, she’d thought it would shatter.
Needless to say, she’d gotten down to her birthday suit—against her better judgment—and gotten down to the business of showering.
And it was the most uncomfortable shower in the history of mankind.
A wide band cutting through the center of the glass door was frosted, creating a modicum of privacy, but there was a considerable area left clear at the top and bottom, allowing a clear visual of the person inside.
All Manhandler had to do was look up and they’d be staring at one another. A fact made even more uncomfortable now that he was openly using the facilities.
Elise had never occupied a bathroom at the same time as a man in her life, so showering while he relieved himself, in plain view of one another, was a crash course of sorts.
She was trying her best not to look, figuring if he was offering her a shred of respect she should return the gesture, but it was a huge test of her resolve. It probably said a lot about her moral compass, too, since she kept stealing peeks from the corner of her eye.
Unfortunately, she couldn’t see much. Not from that angle. And of course, there was the open threat that she’d better “keep her eyes forward or else.” So even though she was relieved of her blindfold for the moment, she had been expressly forbidden to look at him.
But she had looked—kind of—so she had a vague impression of what he looked like. He was tall, solidly built, both of which she had already perceived from their prior interactions. But the dark shadow around his head told her he had brown or black hair, cut short, but not buzzed—there was a bit of length to it. Likely enough to run a person’s fingers through and grip tight. He stood like a sentinel, stock still, and when coupled with his generally abrasive demeanor, she wondered if maybe he’d been military at one time. It would explain his commanding presence and domineering attitude. That said, she also had the impression that it wasn’t all there was to him. She’d glimpsed a softer side, multiple times. A cold-blooded murderer wouldn’t let a person take a shower or be concerned with them being fed or protect them in the midst of perceived danger.
In fact, Elise was growing even more confident by the second that the only real danger she was in came directly from the man located at the front of the cabin—the loose trigger. She even wondered if all the trouble they were caught up in—whatever it was—was directly the fault of Manhandler’s partner and he just somehow got caught up in the whirlwind. A case of wrong place, wrong time. Kind of like her.
She chanced another look from the corner of her eye, catching movement as he flushed the toilet and put the lid down.His mom must have taught him that, she mused, and she might have smiled if, just then, the water’s temperature hadn’t gone from warm and steamy to Holy Hades in a literal hot second.
“Oh my God!” Elise screamed, leaping backward to escape the scalding temperature. Her feet slipped on the slick basin, and she threw her arms out, grabbing for anything she made contact with.
Shampoo and conditioner bottles, a bar of soap, and a disposable razor clamored from their shallow shelf, landing on her toes, but for all the pain that caused, she was in for a bigger world of hurt as she went down hard…
That is, she would have, had a flannel-covered arm not shot in at the last possible second to save her from cracking her tailbone.
“Like I said before, looks like I gotta watch out for you.”
Elise looked up into Manhandler’s eyes before she could think better of it, and the instant she locked onto those denim blues, his warning was completely forgotten too.