Page 79 of Mason

“Not if you don’t make me.” He turned and leaned against the counter, facing her. “Are you going to make me hurt you?”

“I guess that depends,” she said nervously.

“On what?”

“On what you plan on trying to make me do.”

He was smiling. He might have been wearing a full-face mask, but he was grinning. Like a creeper.

And that was what this man was. A creeper who stalked women and then kidnapped them, starved them, left them alone for days on end with nothing but silence to wear them down.

He was crazy.

“You and I are going to get acquainted, JoJo. You’re going to learn everything that makes me happy, and you’re going to do what I tell you to. If you do that, then I won’t have to hurt you.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “But should you disobey me, I will be forced to punish you. And trust me when I tell you, I love punishments. You? I’ll guarantee, not so much.”

Every word out of his mouth clenched and twisted her stomach into more knots than she thought possible. Fear slithered up her spine and choked her lungs. It squeezed around her throat, cutting off her air.

“Breathe, baby.” He came over, and she flinched when he ran a hand down her cheek. “Just be a good girl, and you will have nothing to worry about.”

It sounded wrong for anyone but Mason to call her that.

“The first time I saw you, I knew you and I were fated. Then I discovered you had a YouTube channel, and it gave me the opportunity to get to know you.”

“So you weren’t a fan, then?”

He shook his head. “No. I came to visit my brother at the hospital and met you.”

“Your brother?”

“Sean McPhee.”

“Sean from security?”

He nodded. “I’m Peter.”

“Peter.” She’d said hello to him once when Sean was giving him a tour, but that was it. She could barely remember it, let alone him. But at least she now understood why he sounded familiar. He reminded her of Sean, who she did know quite well.

“Come on, JoJo, let’s get you cleaned up. You stink.”

He took her by the arm and started to lead her up the stairs.

She was on borrowed time, and she knew it, so how the hell was she going to get out of this?

Peter opened a small door and took out towels and a washcloth, which he handed her before leading her toward the only other door that was open upstairs.

The bathroom wasn’t filthy. It was clean and looked like it had been used recently, complete with a bar of soap.

“Don’t worry. I’m going to let you shower by yourself. You really do stink.”

She should be offended, but her mind was already trying to figure out a way to escape.

“I’ll be right outside the door.”

“Okay, thank you.” It killed her to say that, but she did, knowing she had to stay on his good side.

He nodded and closed the door behind him. She turned on the shower, and then she used the toilet, her entire body on alert in case he decided to come in. Should she take a shower?

If she didn’t, he’d probably come in here and bathe her himself.