Authors: Christine Edwards
I puff out an annoyed, testy breath and finally ask, “May I have my water now?”
He immediately reaches down into the bag and hands it to me. He made me wait. He made me ask for it.
Rude
!
I hold it in my free hand and realize that I’ll never be able to open it with one arm tied to the door. He glances over, grabs the bottle, cracks open the top and then gently hands it back to me.
“I would thank you, but seeing as you’re the one who’s the cause of my immobile hand, well, you don’t deserve it.”
“Keep it up. I like a challenge, American.” He doesn’t even glance at me as he says it. His smooth, unaffected demeanor is starting to wear on me.
Unafraid and pissed off, I wiggle in my seat and get as close as I can with my arm tethered. “In case you have short term memory loss or a severe hearing issue from the pipes on your Harley, we’ve already been introduced, big guy. You’re well aware of what my name is, and it’s not even close to ‘American
,’
so stop calling me that. It’s beyond rude,” I seethe.
In a dead serious voice, he replies, “I’ll consider using your name when you start to behave for me.”
Seriously? He must be unhinged.
I refuse to give him the satisfaction of a response.
The truck roars down the road and my mind wanders as I steal glances at his toned body sitting so close to mine. His hands are large but quite elegant with long, almost pretty fingers. My eyes roam upward to his black leather jacket and I’m positive that underneath it all he’s pure, raw male. It’s too bad he turned out to be such a psychopath. His rich male scent is affecting me in ways that I can’t seem to control, but I know that it’s warped to even entertain thoughts of being attracted to your kidnapper. Right?
I could try to seduce him, couldn’t I?
On second thought, he’s so perceptive that he’d pick up on any false intent immediately. Besides, with the level of attraction that I have for him, I could easily become entranced while luring him in … he’s so uniquely gorgeous.
Don’t go there, you need to keep your eyes on the prize and escape from this barbarian.
N
o cars have passed us in the last thirty minutes and buildings are sparse by the time Alreck pulls into a lonely little filling station. Its ten o’clock at night and the digital readout on the rearview mirror pegs the temperature at minus six degrees Centigrade, which is a frosty 20 degrees Fahrenheit.
He doesn’t offer to untie me and I’m too proud to ask. Where could I go in the pitch-black freezing night anyhow? It’s so cold out that as soon as the truck is turned off the temperature in the cab begins to drop like a stone. I burrow down into my coat closer to the door, hands clenched within my cozy pockets. I had planned on skiing while I was in Norway so I’m thankful now that I splurged on my Helly Hansen Verglas down parka. Who better than the Norwegians could design the ultimate in outdoor gear? Something tells me that where we’re headed I’ll definitely need it.
I watch as he finishes up with the fuel and walks in long, sure strides into the tiny station.
How in the world is he not cold without a hat on?
I’m freezing and wish he’d left the truck running. Of course, he wouldn’t trust me enough to do that
.
Moments later I see him walking across the snow with a bag in his big hand. He steps up and gets into the cab while setting the bag between us. Whatever is inside smells amazing and fills the truck with a delicious aroma
.
Placing his long arm across the seat behind me, he gets close and asks against my flushed cheek, “If I untie you, will you behave for me now, woman?”
I’m far too cold and hungry to fight right now so I calmly reply, “I will.”
He gives a short grunt of approval as he pulls a horn-handled switchblade out of the back pocket of his jeans and makes quick work of the bandana. I can’t stifle a wince as I stare down at the treacherous looking blade.
“Oh!” I cry out. My freed forearm is numb from the odd angle and the sudden rush of blood is incredibly uncomfortable. I begin rubbing it back and forth as he watches me with what appears to be concern, but makes no attempt to touch me. After a minute of tending to my arm, I fold my hands in my lap and stare down at them.
“Here.”
I look over to see what he’s offering me.
A roller dog
? Well, it looks far yummier than the typical ones we have at gas stations back in the States. Actually, just about anything would be delicious at this point. I can’t remember the last time I ate.
I shake my head and mumble, “No,” and stubbornly look away.
Still holding the food close, he says softly, “You don’t like
pølsers
, or how do you call them? Hot dogs?”
I want to cry because I’m so hungry, but I have to let him know that he can’t have total power over me. I shake my head no.
“Look at me,” he commands in a low male voice.
I look up and it’s almost too much. He’s so very observant that it’s unnerving.
“When did you last eat?”
I remain silent.
I don’t want his pity. I don’t want him to care at all.
His eyes narrow. “Tell me now or we’ll just sit here all night, American.”
“Fine, last night, before we came out to the nightmare biker party. Worst mistake of my life.”
In a surprised whisper he murmurs, “
Faen
! What, you’re telling me that you haven’t eaten in over a day?”
I’m mad now. He can kidnap me but he sure as hell
won’t
control this Cali girl!
“Yeah, that’s what I’m saying, big guy. And if you have an issue with it, don’t,
because I was planning on going out to a nice
damned lunch with my roommate before you
and your band of bikers
fucked up my day beyond all reason. I gave you all of the information you wanted yet still it wasn’t good enough. So keep your gas station food or shove it. I really could care less.”
His eyes flare but that’s his only reaction. He’s mulling over something and I wish I knew what his next move was going to be. It’s frustrating how damn unreadable he is.
In a flash, he jerks the door open and jogs back into the gas station. He quickly comes out with another bag. The passenger door is opened and without a word it’s gently set onto my lap.
We’re five miles up the winding highway before I glance down and peer inside the brown bag perched between my knees. It contains milk, a pouch of dried fruit, an oversized
Melkesjokolade
bar and another roller dog. There’s even a napkin.
How very interesting.
***
It doesn’t take long before my stomach wins out and I begin sampling everything in my bag with glee. The rich chocolate bar is divine and the roller dog really rocks.
“Good?”
I look shyly at him between small bites. “Yeah, thanks.”
“You shouldn’t curse, I don’t like it.”
I stop mid-chew and swallow. “And why would you care what I do?”
“Because I’m responsible for you, for one thing. Second, you’re too much of a lady to say such words.”
“Yeah right, as responsible as a kidnapper should be? How very considerate of you.”
I watch in fascination as those large hands tighten onto the wheel in a punishing grip. The tension is thick as he says, “You enjoy being defiant, don’t you, American?”
I decide to add fuel to the fire by taunting him. “Having second thoughts already, biker? You can stop the truck right here and I’ll gladly rid myself of your presence. Right now.”
Calmly, in an icily controlled voice, he replies, “You’re not going anywhere, and I know exactly how to handle women like you.”
“Oh really? I can only imagine what medieval methods you could be referring to. What, do you think you’re going to spank me again or something? Because you’ve got to be mental if you think that would ever happen in my lifetime.”
Silence ensues and then in the dark I hear his deep rumble, “Mmm, we shall see.”
Damn, damn!
I really don’t know what to say to that so I pointedly change the touchy subject. “I didn’t know that you could drive this far and still be in Norway. Where in the world are we going, the Arctic Circle or something?”
“Close, I’m taking you to my
rorbu
in Lofoten.”
I nearly choke on my fruit. “Your, your what?”
“My fishing and hunting cabin. It’s known as a
rorbu
and it’s in the Lofoten Islands. Have you not heard of them?”
I shake my head in disbelief and can’t stop the flood of tears from running down my face. Lofoten? There is no way I’ll be able to get away from there. From the geography I recall, I know that it’s over twenty hours by both car and ferry from the capital. “Please, you
must
take me back. I won’t tell anyone what I saw, not the police or anyone, I swear it. You don’t have to do this.”
I reach toward him, my bravado failing as I lightly brush my fingertips across the back of his big, warm hand. “Alreck, please.”
It is the first time I’ve called him by name and it seems to startle him. He takes his eyes off the road to stare deeply into mine across the shadowy enclosure. What I see in them is raw male interest that almost gives me hope—hope that quickly dies.
“I can’t. You’ll stay with me and we aren’t going to continue this discussion. Get some rest. We have many more hours to drive yet.” His voice is stern and unyielding. I’m crushed because I thought that he might soften toward me.
Completely drained and both physically and mentally strained to my breaking point, I curl up on my side against the seat. I distance myself the best I can from Alreck and his implacable personality. Feeling abjectly helpless, I cry myself into a fitful sleep.
***
Waking from a dreamless sleep, I jerk upright as his vehicle rolls to a stop. There’s a tiny marina directly in front of us with a group of fisherman preparing their boats at the shoreline. The sun is just starting to show over the horizon. I blink several times, coming fully awake, and look over toward my captor, who is staring at me with an indecipherable expression on his face.
How long has he been staring at me?
I open my mouth to ask but think better of it. I don’t want to rile him right off the bat because something tells me that this man is like a jungle tiger that you don’t ever want to poke with a stick.
“We take the ferry from here.”
His head inclines slightly toward a modern white and navy blue ferry with the name “Isen Maiden” written in bold letters across its sprawling back. The boat is three levels high and cars are beginning to load onto the lower deck. A fresh wave of familiar dread washes over me.
As if sensing it he says, “You will not cause me any problems here. Are we clear on this?”
The seriousness of his tone nearly makes me shudder. Without many other options, I nod and watch helplessly as his truck is waved ahead to cross the threshold onto the sleek vessel.
“We will get out once the ship has left land. I don’t trust you until then. From here we should arrive in The Lofoten Islands in just over three hours.”
I clench my fists against my jeans in frustration and ask him in a low, measured tone, “Why won’t you tell me what’s going on? What you’re doing is barbaric and unjust. You do realize that it’s just a matter of time before I get the hell away from you, right?”
There has to be one person around here who knows the English term for
Help me, I’ve been abducted.
I level him with a glare and for the first time see a flash of empathy in his luminous eyes.
“I won’t harm you,” he says quietly. “It would be best for you to understand that and accept that what’s happening is inevitable. We had no choice in this matter.”
“What are you talking about, Alreck?” I’m getting sick of all of the cloak-and-dagger responses. “Why won’t you tell me what’s going on?”
Alreck doesn’t reply and I start to wonder if his cryptic statements are a sign he just might be playing with less than a full deck.
The boat suddenly lurches forward as we depart land.
Great, even farther from freedom now.
“
Come with me, American. There’s a small snack bar inside. They serve tea and simple food. We should have breakfast now.” Alreck slips out of the truck and I follow behind, not too keen on hanging out in the freezing cold. There are only a few other vehicles on the deck alongside us and we weave our way through them. Most of the cars are already vacant.
“Why did you try to freeze me into an ice cube when I was unconscious?” I ask, suddenly curious.
Annoyed, Alreck pauses beside an empty car and replies, “I was trying to wake you up, not freeze you. You were never supposed to be out that long.”
Drugged, kidnapped? Ugh! What I wouldn’t give for a hot shower right now
.
I tuck my shivering hands deep into my warm down pockets and ignore him as the side deck of the vessel comes into full view. My steps involuntarily slow and finally come to a halt as I stare in awe at the majestic fjord before me. I was so focused on not boarding the massive ferry at the marina that I didn’t pay attention. Now the view demands it.
The wide, winding body of fast moving water gracefully snakes its way endlessly toward what I assume is the open sea. I reach a hand out to steady myself on the rail as I tilt my head way back to look up at the imposing snowcapped mountains rising straight up from the crystal blue water. They surround us, essentially creating a valley.
“It’s breathtaking,” I whisper and continue to gaze at the stunning wonder that effortlessly humbles the humans who witness it.
Alreck perches his hip nonchalantly on the rail as he stares down at me. His voice is smooth as he asks, “You like the fjord?”
Despite myself I gush, “Oh yes, I’ve never seen anything so wondrous.”
His eyes break away from mine and slowly roam my face. I feel the heat of a tell-tale blush creep up my neck, so I’m relieved when he turns his head to take in the view with a thoughtful, introspective gaze.
“They were formed thousands of years ago by icebergs that broke away from glaciers. There are several famous ones throughout Norway. Come, before you freeze. You’ll have several hours yet to gaze out at the fjord.”
We enter through a thick glass sliding door and the warmth from within feels wonderful. It’s so nice to be out of the confines of his truck that I sigh in relief. The room we enter appears to be in the central gathering area of the ferry and there are both passengers and crewmen milling about the light-filled, open space. The crewmen are all wearing uniforms consisting of a light blue dress shirt with a dark tie and silver tie clip coupled with dark dress pants and black shoes. The passengers are dressed smartly in Northern European style—fine sweaters paired with pressed slacks and well-made leather shoes or high boots. I’m suddenly longing for a change of clothing and a much needed bath.
Inviting cushioned club chairs and low wooden tables are scattered about. Three of the four walls are made up of wide glass windows that offer a spectacular view of the fjord winding before us. Although the motion of the ferry is smooth, the constant undulation is noticeable and it takes me a moment to get my bearings.