drink himself into oblivion. Instead he'd ended up in the middle of nowhere outside Tehachapi, a shitty little town some thirty-plus miles southeast of Bakersfield.
He pulled at the chain, not for the first time, and cursed. No luck. Trapped.
If Minna was a stubborn little imp, her brother was a sadist. A sadist with good intentions, but a sadist nonetheless.
When Minna had gone to bed last night, Remy had waited a couple hours before he'd tried to sneak out of the house. But the minute he'd stepped out into the hallway, the light had been switched on, revealing Andy leaning casually against a wall. He was fairly slim and lanky, but the death glare he'd shot Remy proved he was more than capable of kicking some serious ass.
Andy sort of reminded Remy of a vampire. Unlike Minna's brown waves, kind eyes in that violet color, and the way she scrunched her nose endearingly, Andreas took after their father with alabaster skin, black hair, and steel-gray eyes. Add ink, piercings, and the fact that Andy was fiercely protective of his little sister, and you had one lethal bastard. Sure, he was Remy's friend too—a very close one, or had been—but he was first and foremost Minna's brother.
"That’s strike two, Rem," was all Andreas had said last night. Next he'd proceeded to punch Remy in the face, then hauled him out to Minna's truck, leaving his own Cadillac behind. There'd been several grocery bags in the back seat, and when Remy had cocked a brow in question, Andy had only shrugged and backed out of the driveway.
An hour's drive into the black night later, Remy's heart had sunk when Andy stopped the truck. The fucking cabin . A small cabin Andy's father owned but hadn't used in years. That’s what you got for befriending people from an outdoorsy family.
What had once been a killer place for high-school parties was now Remy's prison.
The grocery bags told Remy that Andreas had been expecting this. He'd known Remy was going to make a run for it.
Everything smelled like wood, the material Remy was surrounded by. Wooden beams, boards—hell, even the furniture. It was rustic and quaint. Only the fireplace was made out of stone.
As soon as Andreas had secured Remy to the one and only bed, he'd switched on the power, the few electrical items buzzing to life with noises that screamed of disuse and age. The small fridge in the corner was made in the '70s, for fuck's sake.
The whole cabin consisted of one room and a sleeping nook. There wasn’t even a bathroom inside. There was, however, an outhouse in the back. If you wanted to shower, you had to go to the camping site farther down the hillside. Or you could step outside and shower under the garden hose, which, of-fucking-course, meant ice-cold water.
Lovely .
The fridge that was now packed with food let out another ringing trrrrr-kadunk sound, causing Remy to scowl at it. He'd been quiet about this kidnapping so far because he didn’t want to meet the end of another fist, but when Andy returned…oh, Remy was going to pitch a goddamn fit.
Who knew where the sadist was now? Probably calling Minna. There was no reception up here, Remy remembered. But there had to be more to it, because Andy had been gone a few hours.
The old clock on the wall showed it was just past noon.
It was hot, high 90s, and Remy had the mother of all headaches. The trees in the mountain park cast a shadow over the cabin, but this was still California. In the summer. That meant heat, the night being the only exception. With the elevation…? The temperature dropped significantly at night, a big contrast to the dry boil of the day.
Leaving the bed, Remy took one step toward the window near the door. He grunted, the wall a few inches out of reach. The chain received a glare, as if that would help. Then he repositioned himself, stretched as far as he could, and finally managed to open the window with a push. Lastly, he got halfway to the round kitchen table in the middle of the room before the cuffs
He pulled at the chain, not for the first time, and cursed. No luck. Trapped.
If Minna was a stubborn little imp, her brother was a sadist. A sadist with good intentions, but a sadist nonetheless.
When Minna had gone to bed last night, Remy had waited a couple hours before he'd tried to sneak out of the house. But the minute he'd stepped out into the hallway, the light had been switched on, revealing Andy leaning casually against a wall. He was fairly slim and lanky, but the death glare he'd shot Remy proved he was more than capable of kicking some serious ass.
Andy sort of reminded Remy of a vampire. Unlike Minna's brown waves, kind eyes in that violet color, and the way she scrunched her nose endearingly, Andreas took after their father with alabaster skin, black hair, and steel-gray eyes. Add ink, piercings, and the fact that Andy was fiercely protective of his little sister, and you had one lethal bastard. Sure, he was Remy's friend too—a very close one, or had been—but he was first and foremost Minna's brother.
"That’s strike two, Rem," was all Andreas had said last night. Next he'd proceeded to punch Remy in the face, then hauled him out to Minna's truck, leaving his own Cadillac behind. There'd been several grocery bags in the back seat, and when Remy had cocked a brow in question, Andy had only shrugged and backed out of the driveway.
An hour's drive into the black night later, Remy's heart had sunk when Andy stopped the truck. The fucking cabin . A small cabin Andy's father owned but hadn't used in years. That’s what you got for befriending people from an outdoorsy family.
What had once been a killer place for high-school parties was now Remy's prison.
The grocery bags told Remy that Andreas had been expecting this. He'd known Remy was going to make a run for it.
Everything smelled like wood, the material Remy was surrounded by. Wooden beams, boards—hell, even the furniture. It was rustic and quaint. Only the fireplace was made out of stone.
As soon as Andreas had secured Remy to the one and only bed, he'd switched on the power, the few electrical items buzzing to life with noises that screamed of disuse and age. The small fridge in the corner was made in the '70s, for fuck's sake.
The whole cabin consisted of one room and a sleeping nook. There wasn’t even a bathroom inside. There was, however, an outhouse in the back. If you wanted to shower, you had to go to the camping site farther down the hillside. Or you could step outside and shower under the garden hose, which, of-fucking-course, meant ice-cold water.
Lovely .
The fridge that was now packed with food let out another ringing trrrrr-kadunk sound, causing Remy to scowl at it. He'd been quiet about this kidnapping so far because he didn’t want to meet the end of another fist, but when Andy returned…oh, Remy was going to pitch a goddamn fit.
Who knew where the sadist was now? Probably calling Minna. There was no reception up here, Remy remembered. But there had to be more to it, because Andy had been gone a few hours.
The old clock on the wall showed it was just past noon.
It was hot, high 90s, and Remy had the mother of all headaches. The trees in the mountain park cast a shadow over the cabin, but this was still California. In the summer. That meant heat, the night being the only exception. With the elevation…? The temperature dropped significantly at night, a big contrast to the dry boil of the day.
Leaving the bed, Remy took one step toward the window near the door. He grunted, the wall a few inches out of reach. The chain received a glare, as if that would help. Then he repositioned himself, stretched as far as he could, and finally managed to open the window with a push. Lastly, he got halfway to the round kitchen table in the middle of the room before the cuffs
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