Gideon.
I automatically found myself wondering if he looked like a Gideon. The polite thing to do would've been to introduce myself or at least thank him for what he’d done. But instead I asked, "What am I doing here?"
I knew my rudeness had hit its mark when Gideon’s next words came out clipped. "I brought you here so I could keep an eye on you. The cabin wasn't exactly a good place to recover from your close call."
The reminder of something I already knew only served to irritate me further. "I'm ready to return to the cabin," I said as I eased the dog, Brewer, off my lap and swung my legs over the edge of the bed. My head spun as soon as I did it, but I pushed through the feeling of being off balance and tried to stand.
That was when I realized I didn't have any pants on.
What the—
"Not just an asshole but a stubborn one too," Gideon muttered.
For some reason, his comment stung, even though it was exactly the perception of me I wanted him to have. It would help me to keep him at arm’s length. "Where are they?" I asked as I ran a hand across my chest. The material was way too soft and thick to be the dress shirt I'd been wearing.
I was greeted with nothing but silence. It was all I could do not to call out and ask him if he was still there. But I wouldn't show him that kind of weakness. He'd already seen way too much of that. If I'd learned anything from my brothers when we'd been kids growing up in the foster care system, it was to never show your enemies any weakness.
No, Gideon might not have been an enemy in the traditional sense, but I didn't know the man, just as I didn't know what his motive was for helping me. Until I figured that out, he was, in fact, my enemy.
"They're in the dryer."
I didn't miss the anger in his voice. I hated the sliver of longing that went through me when I remembered how gentle his voice had been when he'd been urging me to drink the orange juice. "Would you mind getting them for me?"
"Yeah, I would," Gideon responded. I heard what sounded like wood scraping against the floor and I wondered if he was sitting down. The room went absolutely silent, which I abhorred. There was no way I could tell where Gideon was or if he was still even in the room. That fact made me feel vulnerable and helpless. I tried looking around the room to see if I could make out his shape, but there were too many variations of light and dark to make out much of anything. Add in the blind spots I had in each eye and it was impossible to pick out any distinct shape. My breathing began to tick up the longer the room was quiet. The only sound I could make out was the light breathing of the dog lying next to me on the bed. I took a gamble that Gideon had left.
My legs felt shaky as I stood. They also felt cold. At least I still had my underwear on. The sweatshirt I was wearing brushed against my thighs. Since it wasn't my shirt, I had to assume it was Gideon's, which meant that the man was at least a few inches taller than me. He was also more heavily built if the roomy fabric was anything to go by. I wasn't keen on walking around in my underwear, but I was even less keen on being stuck in a place with a complete stranger. I put my hands up in front of me and began taking baby steps. My hope was to find a wall which I could then follow to the door. I had no clue what I would do after that, but if I was lucky, I could figure out a way to get my clothes back. That, at least, would maybe put me on a more even playing field with the mysterious man.
"Careful, there's a chair about four steps in front of you."
I stopped abruptly at the sound of Gideon's voice. So the jerk was still in the room. I felt tears prick the backs of my eyes as I realized how much amusement he must be getting from watching me wander around like a helpless infant. I tried to remember my brother Con's breathing techniques to bring my emotions under control, but all I could consider was that I was trapped in a place I had no hope of escaping without asking for help. And worse, I was now completely disoriented and had no clue in which direction the bed lay. So I was stuck standing before a complete stranger in my underwear and his shirt.
Point to Gideon. He’d played me perfectly. Not that it was too difficult since I couldn't exactly see any of the moves coming my way.
"Where are my clothes?" I snapped impatiently as my panic began to increase. I'd spent years and years working to overcome the anxiety attacks I'd had as a kid. In my professional life, my love of the business I'd been building had seen me through moments exactly like this. There had been a million things I'd been terrible at when I'd been a kid, but video games and strategy hadn't been among them. So it hadn’t mattered if it was some cocky developer or arrogant business associate I’d been dealing with; I'd instinctively known how to play the hand I’d been dealt. But in this kind of situation, I might as well have still been that little kid standing in front of whatever foster family had deigned to take me in and listening quietly while someone else made all the rules and I was given the ultimate ultimatum.
Fall in line or pay the price.
I hadn't had the physical strength or the courage that King and Con had shown every time they'd had to deal with the ins and outs of the foster care system, so I'd always fallen in line. And even when I'd followed every rule, I’d still paid the price. I'd learned then what an unfair place the world was and I'd sworn long before I’d turned eighteen that I would never let anyone put me in that kind of position again.
But here I was, letting someone do exactly that. I wanted to believe it was just because of my failing vision that I couldn't find the courage to tell Gideon to fuck off, but deep down I knew it wasn't true. I was at his mercy. He knew it and I knew it. Even if by some miracle I could get my clothes back, then what? I couldn't make out the individual fingers on my hand, so how the hell would I be able to find my way back to my cabin? Maybe I could get lucky and find a phone, but who would I call besides my brothers? It would take King or Con or Luca hours to get to me. And I didn't really believe Gideon wanted to hurt me. At most, I figured he wanted a little bit of payback for my rude treatment of him the day before.
So I made myself stand there and accept whatever he would throw my way. I went into my head and tried to bring up memories of some of the better times I’d spent with my brothers. The times where we hadn't had to fight to stay alive in a system that hadn't given two shits about us.
Despite the promise to myself that I would stand my ground, I flinched when wood scraped over wood and then the floorboards beneath my feet began to creak. I willed myself to focus on pulling in one easy breath after another, but when a dark shape began to form in front of me, something in my brain shifted and I automatically stepped back.
And kept stepping back.
"Hey, stop—" I heard Gideon say, but I was too busy scrambling backwards in search of the corner of the room. It would be the only place I could protect at least the front of my body. My back would be able to withstand the blows. I knew that because it had before…
I only managed to make it about three steps before hard fingers closed around my upper arm. "Don't," I shouted—no, begged. Even I could hear it in my voice.
The fingers on my arm gentled slightly but didn't loosen enough for me to pull free. I stood there frozen, head down.
Unable to escape.