Chapter Sixteen

The next day was more of the same. Bonnie remembered reading somewhere that if captives could talk and make their captors relate to them on some level, they might have a better chance at survival. She couldn’t remember where she’d read it, or if she’d actually heard it, or if it were even real or something her brain had conjured for her to cling to. But she was latching on to the idea with both hands.

Since she hadn’t slept at all the night before, she’d stared at the ceiling and plotted. She’d planned out what she was going to say to the guy when he brought her food today, if he came. If Jonas came instead, she had a plan for that, too.

So when the tattooed guy came in with her eggs and toast for breakfast, Bonnie ignored the feelings of anger and hatred rising within her and forced a smile on her face.

“Good morning! I’m afraid I didn’t sleep well. You?”

No answer, just like she’d thought. She tried again with a more familiar question. “Where’s Jonas?”

His eyes flickered to hers as he set the tray on the table and rolled it toward her. If she weren’t mistaken, there was a slight upturn of his lips, as if she amused him. It was better than the stone face he’d had yesterday.

Today, she took longer to eat, as she chatted away and peppered the man with questions, none of which he answered.

“How long did it take to have your body tattooed? I’m assuming it’s all over,” she’d question. “Did the tattoos hurt worse or the horn implants? Living in Austin, I’ve seen a lot of weird stuff, and the horns aren’t unheard of. I’ve always wondered how they’re done. I suppose I can Google that when I get out of here.”

He never answered her, allowing her to prattle on. She couldn’t tell if he was ignoring her or absorbing her questions and not responding. Either way, she continued.

“You know, Jonas and I have a history. Sort of. We knew each other in college. Well, he knew me. I honestly had no idea who he was, but he stalked me and threatened me and scared the shit out of me so badly I ran back home and have been hiding ever since. It was total coincidence I ended up in his club the other night.” Bonnie kept her voice conversational, filling the silence with her seemingly random musings. But her plan seemed to be working. He actually reacted to the next part. “Whatever he did the last time, it got my brothers there and scared them to death. They whisked me away and hid me so hard I hardly knew where I was for a while.” She chuckled, and the raised eyebrow from the silent, broody guy gave her hope, making her smile a bit more genuine, even if she did want to throw up her eggs and toast for entertaining this guy.

And that was all. Without a word, he eyed her empty plate and wheeled the table out of her reach, leaving with the tray.

A sigh escaped her. It was a little progress but not much. She had no idea when Jonas would show his face and make good on his promises.

The promises she’d been successful in not thinking about since she’d been here.

Sure, he’d made all sorts of threats when he’d been stalking her, before she had a clue who he was or how scary he could be.

At first, she’d tried to ignore the creeper who kept leaving things in her car—dead flowers, pictures of her with stuff spilled on them, all the notes calling her his pretty girl—but when she found a bag with rope, duct tape, and a hunting knife, the threat was clear she needed to get the campus police involved.

And they’d called Simon, her emergency contact at the time.

He’d come down with Quinten, guns blazing, and they’d done their own investigation, which had mortified Bonnie. They’d questioned and intimidated all her friends, especially the male ones, pestered her professors, et cetera. As if threatened by them, Jonas had escalated to breaking into her house.

And it had finally scared her away.

Her brothers had quietly ushered her out of Waco and back home. They did an extension of their previous investigation and finally joined her in her new barracks, very tight-lipped about what they’d found out.

As if Jonas had scared them.

Which was exactly why Bonnie had done everything they ordered her to do. If Simon and Quinten were scared of something, she should be, too. At first, it all seemed legitimate. But then it hadn’t, since Jonas never contacted her once since she’d been home. After a year and then more, she was over living like a recluse.

But with a life came challenges and dangers, as she was now seeing. Her ankle still shackled to the bed, she leaned back with a sigh.

She had to get out of here.

When Tattooed Guy came with her cheese sandwich for lunch, she continued her idle chatter, desperate for a response. She complimented his cooking with a forced chuckle, asked him questions about himself and Jonas, and then resorted to telling the man stories of growing up with two tough guys for brothers, inserting her new boyfriend into the story where she could. Bonnie wanted him to understand these guys would find her and come after her, and if he got in the way, he was dead.

At supper, she finally got some response she could use. Tattooed Guy was wheeling away the table, less gingerly than before, when he finally said, “Jonas will be here Saturday morning.”

His voice was low, almost a whisper, but it was so foreign to her ears, it was almost loud in the room that had heard nothing but her own voice for days.

Saturday. Bonnie was speechless until he closed the door and locked it.

That was something concrete. She had no idea what to do with the information, but it at least gave her a deadline. She had until Saturday to get the hell out of here. If only she could get a message to Simon and Quinten that they only had until Saturday to free her. How many days was that?

She didn’t even know what day today was.