Seth had kept his word. When she stepped out of the bathroom wearing the clothes she’d borrowed, he sat right where she’d left him. She tugged at the sweatpants. They were large and bunched around her ankles, but the drawstring helped. The T-shirt was broken in nicely, and quite comfortable, but she hadn’t dared go out there with just the T-shirt on. She’d known that the moment she saw him sitting on that overstuffed leather couch of his that her nipples would harden with attraction. And of course he’d notice. Like all her clothes, her bra also stank, but after soaking it in the sink for a while, she’d hang it up to dry. She’d thrown the short-sleeved button-down shirt over the T-shirt, leaving it hanging open though covering her breasts.

“Feel better?”

She glanced at the vague smile on his face. He hadn’t moved and still sat with legs crossed, arms over his chest. She tried not to notice his bulging biceps, the fabric of his T-shirt tugging at the muscles. She gave him a nod. She supposed she should be grateful to him, but it stuck in her craw that she still wasn’t free to leave. Outside, darkness pressed against the cinderblock cabin, black and endlessly empty beyond. He tilted his head.

“Might as well get some sleep. Nothing’s going to happen tonight. You can sleep on my bed. I’ll sleep out here.”

She hadn’t realized until that moment how exhausted she truly was. She hadn’t slept for . . . well, she had been unconscious for a while, but that really didn’t constitute restful sleep. A couple of days had passed already since she’d been kidnapped. Hadn’t they? Or had she missed even more time? Without a word, she nodded and glanced toward the bedroom. “Do I have to leave that door open, too?” She couldn’t keep the wariness out of her tone that time.

He nudged his head slightly and offered a tiny shrug. “No, you can shut the door if you want, but it’s going to get hot in there.”

“So why don’t you open the windows? It’s stuffy in here.”

“They don’t open anymore . . . rusted shut. What can I say, they’re old.”

She said nothing, knowing that regardless, if she tried to get out of the cabin tonight, she’d have to creep right past the couch. She wouldn’t be surprised if he slept with one eye open. Nevertheless, the thought of allowing herself to fall asleep . . . she didn’t like the vulnerability. Nikki didn’t trust him any further than she could throw him. Then again, the feeling was probably mutual. He suddenly glowered at her, impatience once again probably prompting him to frown as he spoke.

“Look, Nikki, I’m tired. I’m not going to rape you, if that’s what you’re worried about. Frankly, it’s been a long day, and I’d like to get some shut-eye. We’ll figure out what to do with you in the morning.”

She didn’t like the sound of that, talking about her like she was a stray dog. His face calmed, and some sort of regret flitted across his expression, like he’d tried to project more fierceness into his tone and words than he’d actually intended. But still, she couldn’t forget how intimidating he could be, the way he’d hovered over her at the kitchen table just a short while ago. She’d better not push him. But if he’d wanted to rape her, he could’ve done it already. If he’d wanted to kill her, she’d be lying out in the dirt in the darkness somewhere, her bones to be picked over by coyotes and vultures. Her thoughts racing, another one forced itself to the forefront of her mind. One she couldn’t ignore, try as she might. An attraction, a pull toward him that she was loath to admit, even to herself. How could she be attracted to him? So what if he was good looking? She’d known lots of handsome guys in her life, but never had she felt this pull, the sense of . . . she didn’t even have a word for it.

With a tired sigh, she finally turned and stepped into the bedroom, closing the door softly behind her. It was pitch black in the room, but she remembered where the bed was. She sat down on it, her hands squeezing into the mattress on either side of her, pushing back the fear and dread that threatened to overcome her once more. Every time she grew still, every time she couldn’t move, couldn’t do something, her thoughts immediately strayed to Stacey. She looked out the dark window into the blackness.

Where are you, Stacey? I’m looking for you! Be strong . . . I’ll find you . . .

She lay down on the bed, once again surprised that it smelled clean and . . . homey. Fabric softener and freshly washed sheets. A motorcycle club member who kept clean sheets. Never would she have believed it. She inhaled Seth’s scent on the pillow, and pushed thoughts of the biker from her mind. It was difficult, but she concentrated on doing what her father had once told her. Starting with her toes, she forced them to relax, then her ankles, her calves, her knees, working her way up inch by inch until every muscle in her body felt loose and liquid. Despite her worries and fears, in seconds, the world drifted away to sleep.