Chapter 7

Almost two weeks passed, and I was allowed to roam the house as long as I didn't try anything stupid. And by stupid, he meant escaping.

There's no way for me to.

I've tried everything.

This house is a fortress, but from inside. Once you are in, you aren't getting out.

I spend more and more time in the library. Not for books or anything, only because no one comes here for anything.

I'd rather be lonely than mingle with any of them.

I finish dusting the entire room when I notice the television. I turn it on and sit on the couch.

I am channel surfing when something catches my eye. CNN is reporting breaking news, and my picture is on the screen! I immediately stand up and put the volume on high.

"She is about five foot seven and weighs one hundred and fifty pounds. If anyone sees her, don't hesitate to contact the police. We want her back! Safe and sound. I love you, Sam. Come back to us, baby!"

It's Max!

"...In other news," continues the anchor. "Senate-nominee Roger Olsen is still missing. His family had reported him missing a little over two months ago. Officials believe Olsen may have run away and is in hiding with his bodyguard and driver. They also haven't been found. With elections just a couple of months away, it looks like Lori Baskins may win the race..."

Max and my parents are looking for me!

I knew they would never give up hope.

I smile and turn the television off when it dawns on me. Look for a house phone; if not, someone here has a cell phone I can steal.

"We don't have a house phone." The voice comes from the doorway. I freeze. It's him.

He is leaning against the door frame with his hands in his pocket. "Because of what I do for a living, no one here, besides Freddie and I, has a phone. Before my workers enter this home, they leave their belongings with Freddie. These people are loyal to me. I help them and their families. So before you think you'll have anyone on your side, you're kidding yourself."

How does he know I am going to look for a phone? I slowly turn to face him. He terrifies me down to my core. However, being scared isn't going to help me at the moment. Standing up to him will be my play right now. I have to get out of here. Inhaling a shaky breath, I walk up to him.

"Why are you doing this? Just give me something, please! I need to know what's going on. Why am I here?"

Unamused, he scratches his nose and sits directly in front of me. "It's nothing personal. It would be best if you appreciated my hospitality. Who wouldn't love to live here?"

"Are you the king of England or something?" I scoff.

My kidnapper looks around the room. He's being sarcastic, of course, but I can sense he's even lying to himself.

I sit across from him as he crosses his arms and looks toward the painting behind the desk. There's a hint of sadness in his eyes, but his face quickly changes to unemotional as he looks back at me.

"Can I at least know the name of the person who plans on killing me? I think it's only fair." God knows how long I have been here, and I don't even know his name.

My ungracious host leans back, crossing his legs, and stares at me for a couple of seconds. Not one time does he blink. His eyes feel like they will burn holes through mine.

He looks deep in thought. I am so scared to move, breathe, or even think. I decide to look down at my hands, feeling uncomfortable.

"It's Ryder."

I look at him in shock, trying to swallow the enormous pill. After weeks, I finally have a name to his face. Ryder is the man who is going to kill me!

He starts to look around again and then back at me.

"Do you like to read books?" He points to one of the shelves.

"What? Oh! No. It's the only place in the house where people aren't coming and going." I put my head down embarrassingly. Like he will care about my comfort.

Ryder laughs and scratches his head. "Well, no one goes in and out of your room. Is there something wrong with it?"

He's right! But the room feels more like a prison than any other part of the house. "I don't like that room. As you may recall, I was locked in it for almost a week."

"Oh. I see." Ryder nods and clears his throat. He smiles and sits forward. "Would you like better accommodations, Miss Hallowell?"

I note the sarcasm in his voice again. I am going to play his game. Being harsh with him gets me nowhere. Maybe if I try a softer approach, a damsel in distress approach, a different outcome will develop.

"It depends." I lean forward, also. "Since this is my home until you kill me, why don't I get a house tour? Every room, though! And you can bring your gun, just in case you feel threatened," I say as I smirk.

I think back to when I made him bleed.

"You're cute when you act brave, Ms. Hallowell. Want me to get you another butter knife?" He squints at me, pursing his lips.

I try not to laugh.

Ryder squints again and flashes his perfect set of teeth.

"Act? And no, thank you, Ryder. I sharpened my nails already."

His left eyebrow goes up.

I stand, and he follows. "After you, my assassin."

He winks at me and walks out of the library. I follow.

Finally! The ball is in my court.

"And this is bedroom number seven. Not much to it. As you can see, all the rooms look exactly alike."

I cautiously step around Ryder and walk into the room. I look around and agree with him. All the bedrooms are identical down to the bedding.

I walk towards the window and look out. It's a beautiful, sunny day outside.

"And your room?" I ask as I put my hands in my back pocket. He doesn't say anything, so I turn and look at him.

"It's off-limits, and no, I will not show you. It is also my office. Again, no."

I walk towards the bed. "But you agreed to a tour of the entire house. What's wrong with peeking? And no one can get in. I've seen the handprint thingy."

He gives me a puzzled look. "Oh? You've tried getting into my room, haven't you? And it's a palm scanner. It keeps nosy mice out." He steps into the room and crosses his arms over his chest.

I swallow hard as I see his massive arm muscles. I have to change the subject. Thinking sexually of someone who wants to kill me is not a good idea.

"I am curious by nature, and I'm trying to escape. Remember?"

Ryder smiles while shaking his head no. It's then that I notice his attractiveness and that he isn't always in the same suit.

All black.

Every day I've been trapped here, I see him wearing the same black suit.

Today he had on a simple white t-shirt and blue jeans.

I look away before I drool and sit on the bed. "So why aren't you dressed today? Is it your day off?"

He nods. "It is."

"So,' I say looking at him up and down. "Is the suit your work outfit? Do you work today?"

"Well..." Ryder takes a seat in front of the bed. "You are my current assignment. And I do have other jobs. I run a company."

That tidbit shocks me. "You own a company? So all of this just doesn't come from killing?" I look around the room. It sounds demented coming out of my mouth. This guy kills for a living and runs his own business?

He shakes his head no.

"Can I ask how old you are? You seem so young to be running anything." I am being a hypocrite. Max is about to run a company soon. Or maybe he already is? I lost track of time.

He squints. "You're very nosy; you know that? And I'm thirty years old," Ryder says, leaning forward, rubbing his hands together.

I roll my eyes. "I'm curious, that's all," I say, sighing and looking towards the window at how I miss the outside world. "So, have you ever not followed through with an assignment?"

"Not that I can recall."

That makes me nervous. I try to smile at Ryder. Anything to not work me up and cry in front of him. I am still terrified. He has that creepy, calm look on his face again.

"Have you ever brought anyone back here? To your home?" I ask, looking around the room again.

Ryder doesn't immediately answer but instead looks like he's thinking about something. "No, you're the first," he says, standing up angrily.

"I'm sorry if I offended you!" I say jumping off the bed. He's about to walk out of the room when I stop him. "And I'll take this room! If you don't mind."

He nods and walks out.

I could go after him, but why should I do that? I don't care for that big, muscular psychopath. He can go and hide away for all I care!

Of course, I'm not making friends with the guy. I'm choosing this room on purpose. I want to be right next door to his bedroom/office. If there's a way out of this place, it will be through there. It has to be!

But then I start to think about his reaction to my question.

Why did he storm off like that?

Later on that night, I can't sleep. This bed isn't as soft as the one in my previous room. Even the pillows feel wrong. I will for sure have to move mattresses in the morning. For now, I will have to endure being uncomfortable.

I have been tossing and turning for almost two hours now. When I finally find my sleep, a noise in the distance jolts me! It's faint, but I hear it.

Is Ryder killing someone?! It sounds like the person is in so much pain. They are not saying anything, but the noise's shrillness makes me scared!

I look around the room when I hear the scream faintly again!

No! Wait! Is he the one screaming?

I climb off my bed and put my ear to the wall.

It's Ryder!

I grab my robe and quickly run out of my room, heading to his bedroom door. I hesitate as I stand before it. Maybe someone is killing him?

Oh my god, no! Wait, wouldn't that be a good thing?