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“Don’t do anything stupid, Rip.” My voice is quiet now, careful. “Just let me out, and you can go anywhere. Keep driving. Go to Mexico and hide out. They’ll never find you there, and you can live like a king.”

“ You don’t do anything stupid,” he snarls. “You’d better start getting your story straight, or it’ll be the last thing you do.”

We’re quiet, and I shrink down in my seat. Up to now, it was just a kidnapping. Up to now, I didn’t know what to expect. Now I’m afraid.

Now somebody might die.

“I’ve heard there’s some really nice places in Mexico.” We’ve arrived at our old shotgun house near the river.

At night the trains go by, laying on the horn as they pass street after street. During the day, the barges float by overhead, taller than the streets below, the waters of the Mississippi River held up by the levees.

Rip replaced the zip ties with nylon rope. I guess he decided it wouldn’t look like I came to him out of the goodness of my heart if I have ugly purple bruises around both my wrists. That might indicate force.

“You could live on the beach,” I continue, doing my best to redirect his thinking away from a gun fight. “You could start doing hair again. You were really good at it.”

It’s how I met him. He was punk rock, cool and edgy. Skinny in a ripped white tee with tattoos and a gold-toothed smile, and I thought he was the most fascinating man I’d ever met.

“You liked having my hands in your hair, didn’t you baby?” He looks up from where he’s packing a bag to give me a smug grin.

“I couldn’t believe you weren’t gay,” I quip.

“That’s a stereotype.” He throws a pair of socks into the duffel.

“Stereotypes exist for a reason.” I’m in a chair at our table, and I shift away from him to look at the dark window. “I so naive, thought I was in love. Now I know what real love looks like. It’s kind and generous…”

“If some man’s being generous to you, he wants in your pants.”

“If a man’s being kind and generous, you’d be surprised how far that goes toward a woman wanting to sleep with him.”

He walks over to where I’m perched, his boots thumping on the hardwood floors. “You never had a problem in that department, did you, Allie-girl?”

“What are you doing with that bag?” I nod in the direction of the bed.

“We’re going to Jackson to meet up with Donnie. He’s got a lawyer who’s going to get me a meeting with the judge.”

“Donnie’s a two-bit hood.” I lift my chin. “How much is he charging you for that favor?”

Rip’s eyes narrow, and he pinches my chin between his thumb and forefinger. “You used to be sweet. I don’t like this new attitude.”

“Hell, I wonder why my attitude changed.” I hold his gaze. “It couldn’t be because I was chased through a maze, knocked out, kidnapped, and now I’m tied to a chair. That would be a silly response.”

“If I thought you’d help me on your own, I wouldn’t have to do any of this.”

“You realize how crazy that sounds? You’re not that far gone, are you?”

He blows a breath through his lips and clomps across the room to the bed. “We’ve got to find something for you to wear. You can’t go looking like… Miss Priss or whoever.”

“Jane Austen.”

“Who’s that?” He frowns at me, and I shake my head. “Maybe Donnie can find something.”

“So we’re going to Jackson tonight?” My chest tightens .

I’ve been holding onto the hope that Garrett knows where I am, since Rip had to register his address with his parole officer. They’ll never look for me in Jackson, Louisiana. It’s 100 miles north of here, and I have no connection to the place.

“We’ll sleep here tonight and get on the road in the morning. Donnie’s not expecting us until around noon.”

I exhale a quiet breath while holding my expression steady. I don’t want to appear too relieved and make him suspicious.

“Am I sleeping in this chair all night?” Annoyance helps.

“No way, baby.” He grins, walking over to me. “You’re sleeping in the bed tonight with me.”

I jerk back. “No.”

He chuckles, sliding his hand down my cheek, but I turn away. It gets me a scoff, and he roughly pulls me out of the chair.

“Don’t shit your pants, I’m not going to do that.

” He walks me to the bathroom, hesitating as he looks into my eyes.

“I’m going to untie you so you can take care of your business and get ready for bed.

If you pull any shit like trying to run or whatever, I will tie you up, and you’ll never get this chance again. Understand?”

My jaw tightens, and I nod, watching as he loosens the rope. My mind is racing as I try to think. I’m familiar with this little house. The bathroom window is a tiny square, too small for me to fit through, and even if I could, the house is on stilts. It’s a long drop to the ground.

The rope falls away, and I exhale a sigh as I rub my aching wrists. As much as he tried to act like it wouldn’t leave a mark, my wrists have ugly red lines from the zip ties followed by the ropes.

“On second thought, I’m standing here while you do whatever. It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”

“I have no intention of disrobing in front of you.”

“Okay, fancy.”

“Do you have a toothbrush?”

“Use mine. ”

My lip curls, and I decide I’d rather use my finger. I don’t want any of his fluids near any part of me.

He stands in the doorway watching as I do my best to use the bathroom without showing my body.

I splash water on my face, not worrying about my smeared mascara. I make a show of putting a dollop of toothpaste on my finger and using it to clean my mouth.

When I’m finally done, I turn to face him. “That’ll do for now.”

His lips purse with a frown, and he huffs a laugh. “Fine. Let’s go to bed.” I follow him to the double bed, and he takes out the rope again. “Lie down on your side.”

Inhaling a breath, I fight against the feeling of despair trying to crash down on me. I don’t trust this man. I haven’t known who he is for so long. For so long in our marriage, I lived in terror, never knowing what might show up on our doorstep or whether they would be armed.

Now I have no choice but to do as he says.

Holding my skirt around my knees, I lie on my side. He makes a noose with the rope, dropping it over my wrist and tying it behind the metal bed frame. It’s too far for me to reach, and my arm is already growing numb.

Squeezing my eyes, I hold back the tears. I swallow the fear and focus on Austin. I think about my son, and I think about Jack. I think about surviving. I think about the first thing I’m going to do when I get out of here.

I’m going to put my arms around him and hold him so tight… then I’m going to change my damn name.