Playing the Odds (A Zombie Apocalypse Love Story Book 3) by Kate L. Mary

Author:Kate L. Mary [Mary, Kate L.]
Language: eng
Format: epub, pdf
Publisher: Twisted Press, LLC
Published: 2017-01-26T06:00:00+00:00

The next time I wake I can barely move. I’m tied to a chair, my hands behind my back and my ankles secured to the legs, and when I lift my head it throbs like it has a pulse.

The room I’m in is sparsely furnished with an old dusty couch and a coffee table. Through the door to my right I can see a kitchen that looks like it was last updated in the thirties, as well as a hallway at my back that must lead to bedrooms. The only other door is closed tight. The house is eerily silent and I have no idea where Daren is.

I shift, trying to wiggle my hands free of the rope but not making any progress. Footsteps start up in the distance, sounding far away but loud at the same time. They get closer, but it takes a moment to realize that they’re coming from behind the closed door.

It opens a second later and Daren steps out. “You’re awake.”

He leaves the door open as he crosses the room to me, but I all I can see are stairs that descend into darkness. A cellar. For some reason, the sight of it makes me shiver.

“I didn’t expect you to put up such a fight or I would have taken Carrie.” He frowns as he looks me over. “She isn’t as pretty, but it might have been less of a hassle.”

“I’m sorry to be so much work,” I spit out.

“Don’t worry—” He kneels in front of my chair. “—you’ll make it up to me.”

I shiver when he runs his hands up my legs and try to jerk away, but there’s nowhere to go.

He stands and heads for the kitchen. “I have to get you cleaned up and take care of those cuts. You didn’t just do a number on me.” He waves to his side before disappearing.

The second he’s gone I start squirming, not even trying to hide my struggle for freedom. I get nowhere, though, and when Daren comes back holding a bag, he gives me a condescending smile.

“You’re not going to get anywhere, but feel free to wear yourself out.” His eyes hold mine as he once again kneels. “I know how to restrain a woman.”

My heart stutters and even though I don’t want to know, I can’t keep the question from spilling out. “You’ve done this before?”

“Of course.” He pulls a bottle of rubbing alcohol out of his bag and a couple bandages. “I had Tiffany for nine months, and even though I was starting to tire of her, I was still disappointed when the virus killed her.”

He shakes his head as he splashes alcohol on the gauze. He rubs it over the cut on my foot, cleaning it well enough to make me hiss from the pain. When he’s done with that he moves behind me and works on the cuts on my hands—several of them from the feel of it.

“It will be easier now that I don’t have to work to hide you.

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