Page 82 of Her Hidden Smile

“Now call her.”

I tried to think of what I could say to her to let her know I was in trouble. To let her know that if she came over to my house, it would be a trap. I pressed her number.

“Hi, this is Lisa. I’m sorry I wasn’t able to take your call. If you leave a message, I’ll be sure to get right back to you.”

He yanked the phone out of my hands and threw it against the armchair he had been sitting in. I watched how it bounced off the back, then fell to the floor. Hopefully it didn’t break. I was going to need that phone if I wanted to get out of this.

The man began to pace back and forth. He muttered Lisa’s name over and over again. I heard him mention a tattoo many times, and then the name Lonny. The only good thing about his pacing is that he forgot to tie up my hands again. I didn’t want to make any movements that might have him notice me. Instead, I slowly lay back down on the sofa and carefully pulled my knees up into the fetal position.

The twine that was binding my ankles was cutting off my circulation. I needed to get it off. Not just to stop the pain, I also knew I needed to get loose so I could get to my phone. When was this idiot going to get tired?

I worked on the knots at my ankles for hours. All I seemed to accomplish was making my fingers and ankles bleed, but I wasn’t giving up. At dusk he stopped pacing. He looked out the big window that looked over the orchard then spun to look at me.

“I’m hungry.”

I didn’t respond.

“You need to feed me.”

I didn’t have to do jack shit.

I didn’t respond to him.

“Are you listening to me, bitch? You need to feed me.” He came over and crouched in front of me. He sniffed. Then grabbed my arm and sniffed my fingers. “Copper. Why are your fingers bleeding?”

He pulled me up straight so I wasn’t in the fetal position any longer. He saw my ankles were bleeding and laughed.

“You trying to escape, bitch? Didn’t do you any good, did it? I used to sail. I know how to tie knots.”

“My feet hurt,” I whined.

“I’ll cut your bindings so you can cook us something to eat. How does that sound? Then you can call Lisa again. You do anything funny, and you’ll regret it.”

I could accomplish a lot with a gas stove and free arms and legs.

“What would you like to eat?” I asked sweetly.

Chapter Twenty-One

I’d tried to lure him into the kitchen and pour the pot of boiling water on him, but he never came into it no matter what I did. I’d even pretended to slip and fall, but he just told me to get up, and still hadn’t come to help me. So here I was looking at my plate of food, listening to him slurp up his spaghetti.

“This is really good. You’re a great cook,” the man with no name enthused. “Why aren’t you eating?”

I needed to keep up a cooperative appearance. If I could just get my phone and hit the SOS code, then the cops would come. If he realized I’d done it, he knew I didn’t know his name. Maybe he wouldn’t kill me. But if nothing else, he wouldn’t be able to hurt Lisa when she came on Monday, or God forbid Bella if she came with her.

“Aren’t you going to eat?”

“I’m not hungry.”

“You should eat,” he said.

I picked up my fork and stabbed at a meatball, then cut off a small bite and slowly chewed.

“Who was that guy who was hanging around? I followed him to the airport, so I saw him leave. Did he get sick of you? Did you bore him?”

I twirled some pasta around my fork and put it into my mouth.

BAM!