Yeah, not forgetting that part, or ignoring the sneaky doubt that threaded through her. The wondering about her mother and what she’d do now that her father was dead. Sure, she and her mother had had their run-ins, it was true. Like her husband, Hilary Fitzgerald wasn’t exactly the world’s warmest person—she held everyone at a distance, her children included. But still … she’d want to make sure her daughter was okay, wouldn’t she?
A sudden thought struck Violet. Had her mother known what her father was? Had she known what he did? The secret life he’d had?
Oh God. What if she’d even been involved?
Violet shivered, staring around the apartment, a surge of desperation going through her. Jesus, she had to get out of here. Had to get away from Elijah and find out just what the hell was going on with her family. First her brother, then her father. Now her mother might be involved too. It was too much. Way, way too much.
Yeah, sure. Just get up and walk through the front door. That’ll work.
She cursed silently and viciously in her head. Okay, so she didn’t have a gun and didn’t have the physical strength that would enable her to overpower Elijah. But she wasn’t stupid. Clearly he wasn’t going to hurt her or else he’d have done so already, plus he needed her alive. That gave her a few parameters to work with.
Pity she had no idea what was happening outside the apartment, but since there was no TV and he kept her away from the laptop, that couldn’t be helped.
She got up from the couch and paced over to the bookshelf, looking at the books and pretending she was finding one to read.
“Stop.” His hard tone came from behind her.
Violet didn’t look at him, studying the spines on the books and trying not to shiver again at the rough sound of his voice. “What?”
“Get away from the bookshelf.”
She threw a glance at him over her shoulder. He was still sitting at the table, but the black ice of his gaze was settled firmly on her over the top of the laptop screen. And there was no mistaking the anger and hostility radiating from him.
“Why?” It was probably stupid to be so demanding, especially given what he’d threatened her with the day before. But shit, she couldn’t even read a book now?
“The books are not yours. Don’t touch them.”
“What the hell else am I supposed to do then? Just sit around with a pair of handcuffs on?”
The menacing expression on his face didn’t soften one iota. “I don’t care what you do as long as you sit down on the couch and shut the hell up.”
It was annoying in the extreme to have to give in, but she wasn’t stupid enough to push him. Not after yesterday.
Stepping back from the bookshelf, she nevertheless made herself hold his gaze. “Can I walk around at least. Is that okay with you?”
One massive shoulder lifted. “Just don’t touch anything.”
“Why not? You think I’m going to break something? I’m not a child, Elijah.”
His scarred mouth twisted. “Of course you’re a child, princess. You’re a fucking babe in the woods. Now stop whining and don’t disturb me again.”
“But I didn’t—”
“One more word and I’ll put you downstairs, I swear.”
Violet bit her lip. Hard. Asshole.
He looked away, back down at his screen, and she had the impression she’d almost ceased to exist for him.
Oh yeah, she hated him all right. God, she had to find a way out of here.
She paced around the coffee table for a bit, then went over to the little island of gym equipment, then back again, turning over ideas in her head one by one before discarding them.
After a while, Elijah pushed the laptop shut with an abrupt movement and rose from the table. He picked up the computer and disappeared down the hallway with it, then five minutes later, he was back again, tucking something into the pocket of his worn jeans.
“I’m going out,” he said shortly, putting on the leather biker jacket he held in one hand. “Don’t do anything stupid.”
Violet stopped in the middle of the room, the heavy slide of the handcuffs on her wrists reminding her for the fifty millionth time she was a prisoner. They were starting to hurt now, not helped by her bracelets, and there were red welts circling her skin.
“Like what?” she said sarcastically. “Accidentally try to escape? Sure, I’ll get right on that.”
He stared at her. “Remember what I said about the basement.”
“You’re a fucking psycho.”
He didn’t even blink. “No, what I am is fucking determined.”
“Why? What is it about this Jericho guy?”
“None of your goddamn business. Now…” The look he leveled at her froze her to the spot. “Don’t touch my books. And stay the fuck away from my bedroom. If I find you’ve been a bad girl, the next meal you’ll be having will be in the basement. In the dark.”
Her heart gave a wild burst of fear at that, but she fought it down. Refused to let it show on her face. “Thank you, but I’d rather starve.”
“That can be arranged.” Without another word, he strode to the door and went out, the sound of it closing behind him as final and heavy as that of a bank vault.
Violet turned and began pacing again.
She had to get out and there was only one way that was going to happen: with him. But how to get him to take her? Obviously asking him wasn’t going to work, and she had a feeling pleading and playing the female tears card wouldn’t either. He was as hard as obsidian and twice as sharp. He’d probably put her in the basement for even suggesting it.
No, the only way she was going to get him to take her out was an emergency of some kind. Like … if she was hurt and needed medical attention.
Violet stopped pacing near the entrance to the kitchen, staring sightlessly into space, trying to ignore the cold clutch of fear.
If she managed to hurt herself badly enough, he’d have to take her to the doctor, even a hospital. And she had no doubts he’d do it since he seemed pretty keen on keeping her alive. The only question was whether she had the guts to do something like that.
But then again, what other choice did she have? She had to make a move and soon, take advantage of the fact people would be looking for her, because no matter what he said, people had to be looking for her. They had to.
The only other option was to stay here and wait for the right moment, whenever that was. But then that would risk her being all laid out for Jericho when he decided to come. And who knew what would happen then?
No, she couldn’t wait. She needed to make a move and she needed to make it now. With her father dead it was even more important for her to find out what had happened to Theo.
She took a deep, steadying breath.
So. What to do? If she was going to hurt herself, she needed to do it badly enough that Elijah couldn’t fix it himself, yet not so badly that she’d die if she didn’t get treatment immediately. Tricky.
Turning she went into the kitchen and began looking through the cupboards. There were various different cleaning solutions but downing a bucket of bleach would only end up corroding her insides and she definitely didn’t want that, especially not if she wanted to get away from the hospital or medical center quickly.