Big Sky (4 page)

“I thought you were stupid for isolating yourself, not asking for help, and refusing help that was offered.”

Veronica tried to relax, not believing she was in this situation to begin with. The fear had taken a brief backseat to the embarrassment.

When she stepped out of the stall, he said “That was all? Squirt squirt? And you’re done?”

“I have a tiny bladder.”

She looked at him in the mirror behind her while she washed her hands. He seemed momentarily distracted so she broke off in a run, glad she’d worn tennis shoes and jeans so she could move. Her heart beat erratically as she ran over a couple of hills and into the woods, more scared of the man at her back than the uncertain forest in front of her.

He yelled behind her, but she kept running. Trees came to life, their snarled branches grabbing at her, scratching at her arms, pulling at her shirt in an attempt to rip it. The trees might assault her before Luke ever got the chance. After a minute or so, the patch of trees thinned into a meadow littered with wildflowers—an unexpectedly beautiful sight in the middle of so much ugliness. She couldn’t help looking up for just a moment. The sky opened out before her, vast and fathomless. The night was cold and clear, and the stars and full moon illuminated everything. For a surreal split second she felt more free than she’d ever felt.

Then she was on the ground, and he was on top of her, and she came back to herself.

“Get off me!” She struggled and wedged her knee between his legs, driving hard into his groin.

He cursed and eased off her for a second. It was enough for her to roll onto her stomach and scramble out from under him. Her hands dug into the grass for purchase as she crawled from between his legs. But she wasn’t fast enough.

She let out a shriek when he pulled her hair and threw her back down to the ground, this time straddling her hard enough that she couldn’t get away.

Her shoulder felt bruised from where she’d hit the ground, and his knees dug hard into her hips, pinning her with little effort.

“Please...” The word came out of her in a broken sob. It was the first time she’d begged him, and she hated herself for thinking it might not be the last. “Don’t hurt me.” The words were so soft she wasn’t sure if he’d heard her.

He breathed hard. “Why did you stop running?”

She hadn’t expected that question. At least he understood that she had to attempt escape.

“The sky.”

He looked up, and if he hadn’t had her arms held down, she might have tried to punch him, but the odds weren’t in her favor this time.
Don’t escalate the situation anymore. Get away if you can, but don’t escalate. Wait for the next opportunity.

But she feared she’d only get the one opportunity. And now it was gone, lost because she couldn’t help being swept away by the awe-inspiring beauty of nature. No city lights. No city noise. No dark buildings threatening to crush her. Just the sky and the stars and a million brilliant tiny white flowers glowing in the moonlight.

“You’ll love the ranch. This is our sky.”

She didn’t say anything to that because anyone who would do something like this had to be so mad she couldn’t trust anything he said. He helped her to her feet and led her back to the truck. She didn’t try to pull away; his grip was far too tight for that.

“Am I in trouble?” She didn’t know how else to phrase it—how else to ask him if there would be retaliation for running.

“It was my fault for being distracted. You were going to follow your nature. But you won’t have another opportunity like that.”

When he got her secured in the truck, he noticed the bloody trails down her arms.

“Trees got you pretty bad. I’ve got something for that.” He rummaged through the truck bed and came back with a first aid kit. “Hold your arms out.”

There was nothing left to do but try to appease him and pretend she’d learned her lesson. He took a small bottle of hydrogen peroxide from the case and poured it over the cuts.

“Ow.”

“Some of these are a little deep. It only stings for a minute.” Then he did the craziest thing. He leaned in and blew on her arms, like a mother trying to soothe the sting on a child’s scraped knee—not that she’d ever had that kind of mother. But she’d seen them in commercials.

Only one of her arms was scraped badly enough to wrap in gauze, but she still felt like a mummy when he’d finished. Then he got back in the driver’s side and started the truck up.

“We’re two hours from the ranch,” he said, as if putting a fine point on the fact that her last chance to escape had just slipped past.

In the thirty minutes they’d been at the rest stop, not one other vehicle had come by.

***

It was two o’clock in the morning when they reached the ranch. The white house stood two stories with a wraparound porch on the bottom floor as well as on the top, creating an extended second-story balcony. There were two doors on the second floor that opened out onto the shared balcony.

“The room on your left is mine. You’ll sleep in the other room,” Luke said.

“I get my own room?” She wanted to smack herself for asking that question.

“I told you I’d take care of you.” He hadn’t actually said those words, but he seemed to feel the implication had been heavy. “You’ll get to see more tomorrow in daylight. It’s late. We usually go to bed a lot earlier than this.”

He came over to her side and opened her door. Before he untied her, he took her shoes. “Wouldn’t want you to run off now, would we?”

After he’d untied her, he turned his back and went up to the front porch. “Coming, princess?”

Veronica stepped gingerly out of the truck and slammed the door. It was hard to see in the dark, even as big as the sky and as bright as the moon. She stood in the dirt by the truck, looking off into the night, wondering how far she’d have to go to reach rescue. She took a few tentative steps toward the unknown blackness and stopped, afraid to go farther in bare feet.

“Better than an electric fence,” he said, as if she were an unruly poodle.

She took a few more steps away from him. The fear of what she’d encounter, what might slither over her foot or bite her, or what broken glass or rusty nail she might step on, was enough that she wouldn’t go far, but his words had made it impossible for her to stop yet. Was she really more afraid of walking on the ground without shoes than of this man? So far, yes. That answer might be different later when it was too late.

“What are you going back to?” he taunted. “A motel room until the money runs out? Then where? On the streets? In a ditch? Under a bridge? Giving blow jobs in back alleys to buy groceries?”

She turned back toward him but didn’t move from her spot. “Will I be doing that here?”

Luke looked thoughtful. “I haven’t decided what you’ll do, but I can promise you’ll love every second of it.”

Something low in her stomach twinged against her will at that statement. She turned back toward the blackness and took another couple of steps.

“There’s nothing for you out there. There
is
something here. If you give it some time, you’ll see that.”

Aside from the tying-her-up part, he wasn’t acting like a crazed kidnapper. He wasn’t roughing her up or pushing her around or yelling or cursing at her. He seemed content to wait for her to step into the house of her own accord, but she wasn’t sure she could do that.

Tears started to stream down her cheeks. “Give it some time? Just accept this? I didn’t come here freely. You could do anything with me, and I’m supposed to be happy about that?”

There had to be a phone in his house. And if there was a phone, there would have to be an unguarded moment where she could call the police. But he was right. What was she going home to? Were the police going to give her a nice roof over her head and food? They wouldn’t give her anything. But Luke might kill her or rape her. But did she really think those things were unlikely back in the city with nowhere to go? What about when the money ran out?

“What about the guys who work for you?” she asked.

“What about them?”

“They’ll tell someone.”

He laughed. “No, princess, they won’t. We speak the same language. They’ll take my side. So save yourself the trouble of resurrecting any high school acting technique. It won’t do any good.”

It took another twenty minutes before she could make herself turn toward Luke and the house. He leaned against the post on the porch, his arms crossed over his chest as if he had all the time in the world. When she started moving toward him, he turned and headed inside.

He flipped on the lights as they went through the lower level of the house.

“What am I going to wear?”

“I’ve got some clothes upstairs that will probably fit you.”

“Whose?”

He was silent for a few minutes as if he were fumbling for a way to tell her. “The last woman who lived here.”

“Did you kill her?”

“No. Get off this killing kick. I’m not a killer.”

“Are you a rapist?”

His eyes raked over her. “Probably by your definitions, but not by the definition of any woman who’s ever been in my bed.”

“What happened to her? Did you let her go?”

“I don’t want to talk about Trish.” His voice came out clipped, and she dropped the subject.

Luke stopped at a bathroom tucked at the back of the house. He pushed it open without turning the knob, and Veronica realized the latch didn’t catch.

“This is the only bathroom with a tub.” He sat on the edge of the claw-foot tub and fiddled with the knobs, holding his hand under to check the temperature. “Come here.”

Veronica froze in the doorway. “Why?”

Hard eyes locked on hers. “Come. Here. Don’t make me ask again.”

She took a couple of tentative steps into the small room. When she was close enough, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her over to the tub. “Tell me if the temperature is okay. Too hot? Too cool?”

The toughness leeched out of her as the realization of how much danger she was in finally registered. “I-it’s fine. But, I-I can’t take a bath here. The door doesn’t latch, you could come in, and...”

He stood, towering over her. He must’ve been six feet five and solid muscle. “When you’re finished, you’ll put on the bathrobe hanging on the back of the door.”

She looked down at the tile floor. “Please, I-I can’t.”

“Honey, we’re in the middle of bumfuck in case you haven’t noticed. I’m about ten times stronger than you. I could have you at any moment I chose, no matter what you started out wearing or what you were doing, so get in the goddamn tub. I know you’re tired and exhausted and stressed, just soak for awhile, and I’ll make us some food.”

He mercifully left her then.

She sat on the toilet lid while the water ran, and finally shut it off when she couldn’t stall any longer. She heard clanging about in the kitchen. She’d have to bathe eventually. If the door didn’t latch, it didn’t latch. Did she believe she was going to be able to go long here with all of her clothes on? She’d seen the way he’d looked at her in the diner that first day. He’d no doubt been planning to take her even then. Losing her job was just an excuse for him to take advantage of a bad situation.

Finally she pushed the door shut and peeled her clothes off. She took a washcloth from a basket on the floor and wet it to wash the dirt off her feet, then she sank into the hot water, careful to keep her wrapped arm out of the tub. Whatever plans he had for her, he hadn’t lashed out in anger when she’d run. Even after she’d kneed him in the groin, he’d only subdued her struggling. He’d tended to her wounds. How bad could he be? And he wasn’t repulsive, at least, which was much better than she would have gotten on the streets.

Something deep inside her rose up, growling over the fact that she’d rationalize and stop at anything short of killing him. He couldn’t do this to her. Whatever century he was living in, she wasn’t his chattel.

A soap dish with homemade peppermint soap had been attached to the edge of the tub. She lathered up and closed her eyes, breathing in the scent, trying to calm her heart rate and form a plan. She jumped when the door was pushed open and rushed to cover herself.

Luke stood in the doorway in jeans and bare feet, his cowboy hat, boots, and shirt long gone. “That’s a syndet bar so you can use it for your hair, too. It’s got goat’s milk and coconut oil in it. It makes your hair soft.”

If he’d been using the soap for that purpose himself, he was an excellent advertisement for it. She flushed and looked away. “Don’t look at me.”

“I’ll see you soon enough.”

The tears started again, but he ignored them.

“I’m making burgers, so be quick about it.” He shut the door softly behind him.

Her legs shook as she stood and pulled the drain on the tub. Whatever he planned to do to her, she wished he’d just do it. The anticipation was scaring her more than whatever he intended. She dried off with a towel from the basket and then put the bathrobe on. She wanted to put her normal clothes back on, but she was afraid he’d stop being nice. His kindness might be a mask, but the longer he wore it, the longer she lived.