Right. Real freaking comforting.
But the sad truth is, I’m running low on options. There’s no way out of this basement and even if there was, I’m facing a legion of surveillance and security guards. Not to mention a high freaking fence with Garfield-exposing nails everywhere. I’m at Uri’s mercy. For as long as he says I am.
This right here—this is why I avoid intimacy. Nothing good ever comes out of it.
His eyes drop to my wrist and only then do I realize that I’m rubbing my charm link between my thumb and my index finger. I drop it and push my hands behind my back.
What would you do, Ziva?
The moment I ask the question, the answer pops into my head. Ziva would play him. She would let him think that she was going to be the perfect little hostage. She would lull him into a false sense of security and then she would take the opportunity when it presented itself. As soon as he slipped up, she’d run like hell.
So that’s what I’m gonna do, too.
“Okay, I’ll stay put. But I would like to be comfortable here.”
He frowns and looks around pointedly. “You have everything you’ll ever need.”
I scowl. “Except windows.”
“If they can’t see you, they can’t kill you,” he replies flatly.
I shudder. Is it possible to see death and violence so much that you become flippant about it? He’s throwing around the idea of murder like it doesn’t mean a damn thing.
“I need to breathe!” I protest. “I need natural sunlight! Vitamin D. Do you know how important Vitamin D is for your skin? Very.”
“I’ll get you supplements.”
Is he smiling? No. No he can’t be smiling at this. “You’re infuriating.”
He has the audacity to sigh. As though I’m the unreasonable one. “I’m sure, if you prove that you can be trusted, I can schedule some sunlight for you once a day.”
My eyes pop open. I’m not sure where to start with that statement so I just go for the practical thing to be outraged about. “‘Once a day’？ That’s it? Like I’m some kind of shady criminal who can only be let out for my daily hour of prison yard time?”
“It won’t be like this forever.”
“So you say. But the fact that you have this basement set up in the first place suggests otherwise.” I stretch my neck from side to side because every muscle in my body is spasming miserably at the thought of endless solitary confinement. “Who is it that stayed here before me?”
Immediately, I know I’ve asked the wrong question. His eyes get tight and his jaw does that clenching thing that makes his cheekbones look so much sharper. “That’s none of your concern.”
Play the good little hostage. Don’t engage. Don’t snap at him. Don’t—
“Actually, considering I’m clearly your latest prisoner in a long line of them, it is my concern. I’ve spent the last few hours in here combing through all the stuff I can find and I can’t decide if you’re kidnapping model plane enthusiasts or little boys. Either way, it doesn’t look—”
“As I said, it’s none of your concern. Asking questions is not in your best interests, Alyssa. Being nosy is not in your best interests, either.”
I gulp. On second thought, I think I prefer his subtler threats.
Uri strides past me towards the door. Despite how little I like him right now, the thought of watching him walk out the door terrifies me. It’s got nothing to do with him; it just feels like the room is ten times smaller when I’m in here alone.
Almost like the walls are closing in on me.
Elle likes to say that the only reason I became a travel writer is because I’m claustrophobic. This country got to be too small for me. Well, if a country wasn’t big enough, this room sure as hell isn’t.
“Wait!” I cry out. To my surprise, Uri pauses at the threshold. “Can I at least go back home long enough to pack a bag? Get some of my things?”
It feels like a pretty reasonable request in my opinion but his lips purse up tight. “There’s a bunch of papers and pens in that desk over by the fireplace. You can write a list of all the stuff you want and I’ll retrieve it for you.”
I’m wondering just how much I can get away with when he nips that thought in the bud. “And just so you know, I’m not getting you your cellphone or laptop.”
“So I really am your prisoner?”
He glowers at me. “For now… yes.”
I square my shoulders but I refuse to let my face fall. I may be at his mercy but he doesn’t get the satisfaction of seeing my fear. “I have friends and family, you know. They’re gonna get suspicious if they don’t hear from me.”