Page 18 of Death's Favor

“Fuck, stop moving—” Tommy grouses.

“Don’t touch me,” I hiss back at him.

“I’m not going to hurt you.” A sound of metal ratcheting together clinks through the blackness, and we both still. “Oh, fuckingChrist. Do you realize what you’ve done?” he demands.

My hand is yanked against the iron headboard frame by the metal cuff circling it. “WhatI’vedone? No, I have no idea what’s going on. I was asleep before you attacked me, remember?”

“I never attacked you,” he bites back. “I wouldn’t be able to sleep with you loose in my house, so I came to fix that problem.”

I tug at my arm, my eyes adjusting to see the slightest silver glow around my wrist. “By cuffing me to the bed?”

“You’re not cuffed to the fucking bed. You’re cuffed tome.” He waves his hand, showing me how he’s attached to the other end of my cuff, which is wrapped behind the iron bar on the bed. “Weare cuffed to the bed.”

“You cuffed us together so that you could sleep better?” Okay, so maybe I’m not as awake as I thought. This isn’t making any sense.

“No, Danika,” he grumbles, his exasperation evident. “I was cuffingyouto the bed, but you lost your shit, and now we’re both handcuffed to the fucking bed.”

I sit up, my thoughts finally clearing. “Well, unlock it, then.”

“Genius. Why didn’t I think of that?”

“Don’t you have a key to your own cuffs?” I gape at him.

“I do, on my dresser, where I left it.” Tommy’s irritation is escalating as he explains the situation, and I probably shouldn’t push him, but I can’t help myself. It sounds too absurd to be true.

“You accidentally cuffed us together … with no key?”

“Not me,you. It was your flailing that did it.”

A heavy silence blankets the room before laughter bubbles up from deep in my belly. Uncontrollable, tear-producing, cackling laughter.

“You think this is fucking funny?” he barks at me.

It only makes me laugh harder. “Oh … my God. So funny,” I wheeze between breaths.

“I fail to see the humor.”

He’s truly upset, so I try to collect myself. “I know it sucks, but it’s okay. It’s not like we’re going to die here, right? Someone will come by eventually and help us.”

“Eventually? You’re okay witheventually?”

A second silence thickens the air as reality sets in.

“Do you have a cleaning service or anything?” I ask in a much more reticent voice.

“Yes, but they come once a week and were just here two days ago.”

Five more days.

Oh, good God.

“Someone will come looking for you before then, right? Will your friends be back? What if I have to pee? Would someone below hear us if we screamed loud enough?”

Tommy must hear the rising panic in my rapid-fire questions because his tone is softer when he answers. “Slow down. Don’t blow this out of proportion.”

I think he’s trying to calm me, but the damage has been done.

“You’re the one who said we may be stuck for days,” I say in a high-pitched squeal.