Bouncing a little on the bed, I try to wake back up, but it starts to squeak and I stop right away. I have no idea where Roque is, but I saw him and a lot of other big guys, and I don’t really want to call them all back in here.
The driver by the door manages to glance at me without actually looking at me, and it makes me shiver. I still can’t get over how young he is, and I realize with a start that he may be my best bet for getting out of here.
“Hey,” I call out. My voice catches, probably because I’m terrified, so I try again. “Hey, what’s your name?”
I swear, I know that he’s not deaf, because I’ve talked to him before, but he does a damn good job of not looking at me. Instead, he keeps his eyes locked on the window behind me. Rather than leaning against the doorframe, he’s standing straight and still, his hand resting gently on his hip.
Nope. Not on his hip. On his gun. I don’t know how in the hell I missed that before, but he’s got a gun holstered on his hip and his fingers are resting lightly on the handle.
Handle? Is that what you call it? I can’t remember. I feel dangerously tired, and even though I have a sudden urge to rush him and try to knock him out of the way, I know for a fact that I wouldn’t make it across the room before I fell over in a dead sleep.
My eyes are painfully heavy and I have to focus on blinking. When I reach up to rub them, I hear him shift his feet, and I look up at him through slits.
“Why don’t you just rest? There’s another blanket on the bed to help you stay warm,” he says, finally looking at me.
He’s right. I should rest. “You think that that’s okay? I don’t want anyone to get mad.”
I swear, I see him relax a little and I have to hold back a smile. Poor kid thinks that I’m honestly going to willingly lay down and just close my eyes when I’m in this strange house. Hell, I feel like a kidnap victim, and I have no intention of becoming a homicide victim.
“I think that you’d make Roque very happy if you were rested. He’ll be in to check on you in a bit.” It’s a lie, and I can tell. He’d checked his phone earlier and I didn’t miss how he’d raised his eyebrows in surprise. I can’t help but think that maybe Roque has left the house.
If he has, and if he left me here alone with this kid…then I’m golden.
“Thanks…uh, what’s your name? I forgot.” Nope, I’ve never heard his name, but part of my plan involves getting him to relax. It’s really my best option for getting out of here.
He smiles at me. “I’m Johnny. Now, Eva, why don’t you sit back and relax? Here, I’ll even get the blanket for you.”
I grin at him and start to lie down, but I have no intention of relaxing. “Thanks, Johnny,” I tell him, keeping an eye on him as he walks over to me. When he lets go of his pistol to pick up the blanket at the end of the bed, I act, grabbing the pillow from behind me and shoving it into his face, pushing with all of my might as I stand up and make a run for it.
I’m wrapped up like a fucking burrito, but that’s not going to stop me. Pulling my blanket up, I run for the door, lunging for it and grabbing the handle. All I have to do is get out of the room. I know I can find my way out of the house as soon as I’m free from here.
The handle turns easily and I feel a thrill rush through me. I honestly hadn’t been sure if the door would be unlocked or not, but it swings open easily to me on silent hinges. Johnny is behind me, and I hear that he’s off of the floor from where I knocked him down and coming for me, but I don’t turn around to look at him.
I have to get out of here.
Holding the blanket tightly around my body, I start out into the hall. This room is just one door on a long hall of doors, and I frantically try to remember which direction when came from when Roque brought me here.
Right.
No, left.
I turn my body, but it’s that one moment of indecision that does it to me. Johnny hits my body from behind, taking me down in a full tackle. I scream and reach out for something to grab onto to keep from falling, but there’s nothing there and my hands close around empty air.
We land with a thud and Johnny grabs my wrists, quickly pinning them behind my back. “Don’t move.” His voice is low and threatening, and even though I want to try to buck him off and run for it, I can’t help but think about the fact that he has a gun on his hip.
“I’m sorry,” I squeak out. My ankle is throbbing from how I landed, and I have a sick feeling that it may be rolled, but I can’t even reach down there to touch it. He has a knee in my back and he sighs. “I thought…” I begin, but I don’t finish the thought.
I thought what? That you look like a little kid and I could easily sneak past you without you being able to stop me? Yeah, I probably shouldn’t tell him that.
“Get up.” He shifts off of me and I stand slowly, using my hands to help me push off of the floor since my ankle hurts so badly. I groan a little as I try to put pressure on it. Yep, definitely rolled.
“I don’t think I can
