the other walked in and deposited her food. Since she wasn’t a particularly troublesome captive, they became more lax, and that was exactly what she was counting on. The first time the guard came in by himself, she noticed that it had been quieter that morning and realized the Mr. Mean was missing. Sure enough, it happened again the next day, as well as today.
This had given her an idea that she started to mull over, and now this Armani-wearing thug might have just ruined her plans. Alex prayed that Mr. Mean disregarded the warning and kept on making his daily excursions. She might have resigned herself to the fact she was going to die, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t going to try to do everything she could to make sure that didn’t happen. If he changed his schedule, she would have to lay her scheme aside and think of something else. Somehow she felt that if she died trying to escape, then that was better than just letting them kill her.
After a few moments of silence, Alex realized Mr. Armani had left the warehouse without his jacket. She’d waited, thinking perhaps he’d come back again in a few minutes, but he hadn’t. Not that it bothered her. She was more than happy to stay warm for a while longer.
Later that day when the bolt on the door was rattled, then opened, she figured it was one of her captors coming in with something for her to eat. She was surprised to see Mr. Armani step into the room, holding a large, plain paper gift bag. He glanced at Alex before carefully setting the bag down on the seat of the chair.
“What’s that?” she asked cautiously.
“Clothes,” he replied, giving her a level, green gaze.
“Clothes?” For some reason the word didn’t make much sense to her. He went out and bought her clothes?
“Yes, clothes. Unless you want to stay in what you’re wearing and freeze to death?”
Alex gritted her teeth against a rude reply. “No.”
She should be grateful he had done something so…thoughtful. Standing up, she removed the suit jacket and held it out to him. She wasn’t prepared for the feel of his warm fingers brushing against hers and jerked her hand back in reflex. The jacket would have fallen to the floor if he hadn’t made a grab at it.
As he turned to go, she had the sense to thank him for the clothes before he walked out of the door. When he left, Alex shivered, but attributed it to losing the warmth of his suit jacket and not to the intense look he gave her when they had that small exchange. While she hadn’t necessarily wanted him to stay, she did feel a little disappointed when he was gone. Any company at all was better than being alone, worrying about when her usefulness would end.
Would he be the one to pull the trigger?
She discarded that thought as soon as it entered her head. She wasn’t ready to face the fact that this man, who seemed to care about her well-being, would have the ruthlessness to kill her. But that was what mobsters did, didn’t they? Killed people? If ordered, he would have to do it or else face the same demise.
To take her mind off her morbid musings, she went to see what he had brought in the bag. She stood there shocked for a moment and then pressed her hands to her mouth to stifle the mad laughter that was bubbling to the surface for the second time in less than twenty-four hours. Alex was sure the two guards would come running in here to see why she was cackling like a lunatic if she let the laughter escape her. And perhaps they would be right to think her crazy. She doubted any sane woman would laugh at the mere sight of a pair of panties.
Sure enough, right there, sitting on top of the navy blue, fleece-lined pants and hoodie, sat a three-pack of cotton underwear. Alex was still snorting and giggling to herself as the wave of hysteria began to pass. She fingered the fabric of the clothing, and while it wasn’t top designer quality, it certainly wasn’t Walmart brand either.
She tried to picture the man who had just left
This had given her an idea that she started to mull over, and now this Armani-wearing thug might have just ruined her plans. Alex prayed that Mr. Mean disregarded the warning and kept on making his daily excursions. She might have resigned herself to the fact she was going to die, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t going to try to do everything she could to make sure that didn’t happen. If he changed his schedule, she would have to lay her scheme aside and think of something else. Somehow she felt that if she died trying to escape, then that was better than just letting them kill her.
After a few moments of silence, Alex realized Mr. Armani had left the warehouse without his jacket. She’d waited, thinking perhaps he’d come back again in a few minutes, but he hadn’t. Not that it bothered her. She was more than happy to stay warm for a while longer.
Later that day when the bolt on the door was rattled, then opened, she figured it was one of her captors coming in with something for her to eat. She was surprised to see Mr. Armani step into the room, holding a large, plain paper gift bag. He glanced at Alex before carefully setting the bag down on the seat of the chair.
“What’s that?” she asked cautiously.
“Clothes,” he replied, giving her a level, green gaze.
“Clothes?” For some reason the word didn’t make much sense to her. He went out and bought her clothes?
“Yes, clothes. Unless you want to stay in what you’re wearing and freeze to death?”
Alex gritted her teeth against a rude reply. “No.”
She should be grateful he had done something so…thoughtful. Standing up, she removed the suit jacket and held it out to him. She wasn’t prepared for the feel of his warm fingers brushing against hers and jerked her hand back in reflex. The jacket would have fallen to the floor if he hadn’t made a grab at it.
As he turned to go, she had the sense to thank him for the clothes before he walked out of the door. When he left, Alex shivered, but attributed it to losing the warmth of his suit jacket and not to the intense look he gave her when they had that small exchange. While she hadn’t necessarily wanted him to stay, she did feel a little disappointed when he was gone. Any company at all was better than being alone, worrying about when her usefulness would end.
Would he be the one to pull the trigger?
She discarded that thought as soon as it entered her head. She wasn’t ready to face the fact that this man, who seemed to care about her well-being, would have the ruthlessness to kill her. But that was what mobsters did, didn’t they? Killed people? If ordered, he would have to do it or else face the same demise.
To take her mind off her morbid musings, she went to see what he had brought in the bag. She stood there shocked for a moment and then pressed her hands to her mouth to stifle the mad laughter that was bubbling to the surface for the second time in less than twenty-four hours. Alex was sure the two guards would come running in here to see why she was cackling like a lunatic if she let the laughter escape her. And perhaps they would be right to think her crazy. She doubted any sane woman would laugh at the mere sight of a pair of panties.
Sure enough, right there, sitting on top of the navy blue, fleece-lined pants and hoodie, sat a three-pack of cotton underwear. Alex was still snorting and giggling to herself as the wave of hysteria began to pass. She fingered the fabric of the clothing, and while it wasn’t top designer quality, it certainly wasn’t Walmart brand either.
She tried to picture the man who had just left
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